The hotel- a four story, respectable looking brick building with a well kept edifice- was absolutely swarming with police. In my early morning haze, I almost imagined the building to be blushing, deeply ashamed to be the site of such a scandal.
Blue coated figures combed through the hotel gardens, armed with flashlights and all other sorts of gadgets, searching for a perpetrator long gone, or perhaps some sort of clue.
Nadrire led the three of us to the front door, where an armed officer stood guard. She flashed a badge at them, and they let us through.
The lobby of the Brass Bell was a dignified room with thick, royal blue carpet, sturdy wooden furniture and the very latest in Gaerranian technology. It was also full of patrons in various emotional and physical states. An older man in a red checkered housecoat bellowed in outrage at the secretary, demanding to be let back in his room. A young woman wept in the corner, consoled by the mechanical ministrations of an automaton, who was pouring her a cup of tea. A middle aged businessman in a pinstriped suit had clearly just returned from a tavern of some sort, as he had nearly keeled over on a nearby loveseat.
All of this was interspersed with uniformed officers, questioning and consoling and politely preventing guests from returning to their lodgings. Why, this must be the biggest scandal since the May Day fiasco.
Nadrire got us past the officer blocking the hall with her badge, up to the fourth floor, and halfway down the hall to the nexus of the chaos.
The door of room 402 had indeed been bashed to pieces. It was hanging off its hinges and half of it lay across the hall. One of the senior officers examined it with gloved fingers.
A second officer, a certified mage, was drawing runes on the frame of a large window on the far end of the hall that faced the garden. Someone had crashed through it rather violently, and the fog was currently threatening to curl in through it.
Nadrire marched right up to the remains of the door. “Officer Kyane, I have brought the detective. Could you please alert the mayor, the police chief, and Minister Othorian’s PA?”
Officer Kyane, an individual with tea colored skin, a young looking face, and hair of a very light lavender color, had been goggling at me with ill-concealed fascination. By the marks on their uniform, they were still fairly new to the force. Only after Nadrire’s request did they blink and start slightly.
“Oh, of- of course, Madam Ambassador!” They leaned into the room and called, “The inspector is here!”
“It appears I’m still the local cryptid,” I murmured to Ella, who giggled quietly under her breath as we were guided into the room.
The room in question was a relatively spacious sitting room type area, with several plush looking couches arranged around a coffee table, a small dining area, and a large desk currently occupied by a leather briefcase and copious piles of paper. There was a door on each side of the room, presumably leading to the bedrooms - or, rather, there was a door on the right and an empty door frame on the left; as much like the door to the room itself, it had been completely destroyed, its oaken pieces scattered across the rug like an upended puzzle. Among the remains of the door were large spots of a dark substance that looked suspiciously like blood.
There were three men in the room. The first man, who was perched on the couch, I did not know. He was a stick thin individual whose pale skin and flaxen hair seemed to gleam golden, unnaturally so, like he’d dusted himself with glitter. He was wearing a pretentious looking pair of spectacles, a stuffy waistcoat with an elaborately tied cravat, and an sour expression that was much akin to the expression of someone who had smelled something very unpleasant.
The second man, the police chief, was standing near the dining table, which had a large briefcase on it, and jotting down notes in a small notebook. Commissioner Lër Ytoime, was shorter than the first man, but taller than the third man, and probably weighed more than both of them. He was fairly muscular, with skin the color of freshly turned earth and dreads pulled in a half bun. A pair of curved greyish horns extended from his head, and he had the almond shaped ears of some sort of deer. He, unlike the other two, was impossibly calm.
The third man, the mayor, was a short, effeminate looking man with tawny skin, nervous eyes that seem to bug out a big like a horse’s, and weird rounded ears. He didn’t have the brightly colored eyes or hair or animal features of a Phika, so I, like most, assumed him to be Whaigorre. He also had a very fluffy black mustache prone to quivering during fits of emotion. It was currently quavering rather vigorously, although whether it stemmed from anxiety, anticipation, or agitation, I couldn’t tell (with the mayor, these emotions were often simultaneous).
“Oh, Detective, you’re here!” Mayor Saynned Xalnone rushed forward to clasp my hand.
He momentarily regained his composure and straightened. “Detective, this is Secretary Cazthin Sithene, Minister Jiorre Othorian’s personal assistant. Honored Secretary, this is Detective Reveilia Baskesse of the Universal Peace Bureau. I have found her assistance and insight to be invaluable on numerous occasions.”
I bowed my head slightly. “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
The secretary in question was wearing far too much cologne. He didn’t say anything; he just looked down his pointed nose at me and sniffed.
I was going to be offended, until I noticed that he was shaking. Ah. So he’s trying to keep his composure by being a snot. I see how it is.
I glanced at the police chief and leaned back against the door frame. “How long have you been on the scene?”
“About an hour now,” the chief replied after glancing at his watch. He placed a soothing hand on the mayor’s shoulder and I saw him relax just a hair. No wonder the two of them make such a good couple.
“And you found it like this?”
He nodded, hand still on Mayor Xalnone’s shoulder.
I turned to the secretary. “Now, I have heard some of the details of the case from the ambassador, but I would like to hear it from the horse’s mouth: what happened, and what do you remember?”
Secretary Sithene took a deep breath. “We were out at a restaurant until around midnight. After we came back, the minister was in his rooms and I walked around the garden for a while, then worked on some briefs in the lobby until around two. I came upstairs to see an enormous… something bolt down the hallway, and crash through the window.”
“Why weren’t you in the room?”
He shifted uncomfortably for a moment, then cleared his throat. “I’ve been in a lot of hotel rooms as of late. The garden is lovely, and I wanted a change of scenery.”
“I see.” He was going to be no help, and so was that damn cologne: I couldn’t scent a lie on him.
“I may have more questions for you in a little while, Honored Secretary,” I said, standing up straight. “But now, I really should see the minister’s body.”
“He’s in the room over there,” Chief Ytoime told me quietly, indicating the room with the shattered door.
I started towards the door, but I felt a hand on my arm and paused.
“Detective,” the mayor said, his voice wobbling. “I must warn you, there is a lot of blood.”
I opened my mouth to make a sarcastic remark about how I saw crime scenes all the time, but then thought better of it, shut my mouth, and nodded sagely. “I’ll keep that in mind, Lord Mayor.”
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