Murder at the Kinnen Hotel by Brian McClellan Read Free Book Online Page B

needed it for evidence later. “I’m curious,” he said, “You’re a businessman yourself. Why are you for unionization? You’ll have to pay your own workers more.”
    “I already pay my workers more,” Ricard said proudly, “and I have hard evidence that better pay and reduced hours actually increase productivity. I’m convinced that unionization will someday turn Adro into the industrial powerhouse of the Nine.”
    “And what’s in it for you?”
    Ricard managed a sly smile despite his disheveled state. “Someone has to head up the union, don’t they?”
    “Ah. I see.” Adamat shook his head, knowing even as he did that he’d had little faith in Ricard’s ventures before, and a surprising number of them had worked. He sobered his tone. “I can’t promise anything. I don’t want to get your hopes up.”
    “The very fact that you’re here to help gets my hopes up.”
    Adamat grinned. “I was afraid you’d say something like that. Nothing like a little pressure to make working easier.”
    Ricard grasped Adamat’s hand. “Really. Thank you so much. This means a lot to me. I’ll be in your debt forever.”
    Adamat called for the jailer, wishing he had more time to spend with his friend, and that they could be meeting over better circumstances. As annoying as Ricard’s optimism could be, he was a good man. Why had Adamat avoided him?
    “And Adamat,” Ricard said as the jailer unlocked the door.
    “Yes?”
    “I’m sorry about Cora. I really am.”
    Adamat felt his jaw tighten. Oh yes. That was why. He gave a brisk nod, not trusting himself to speak, and stepped out into the hallway. He reached in his pocket to feel the paper with the names of Ricard’s enemies, and slowly went over them in his mind. These were powerful businessmen and nobles. People with fortunes and connections and some even with private armies.
    And the only thing keeping them from sending Ricard’s head tumbling from a guillotine was him.
    “One last thing,” Adamat said, returning to Ricard’s side and handing him the paper. “Who among these people would have the money and guts to hire a powder mage so close to the Adran Royal Cabal?”
    Ricard seemed to think about this for a minute then circled four names. Adamat eyed them for a moment. “Good,” he said quietly. “I’ll do what I can.”
    He was on the main floor, reaching for his pocketbook to give the jailer something to ease Ricard’s stay in Sablethorn, when his hand came up empty. His pocketbook was gone. He sent the jailer up to Ricard’s cell to look for it but the man came back five minutes later shaking his head.
    Adamat left the jail and stepped out into the public square, where he leaned on his cane and replayed the last several hours in his head. He had paid off Teef. And the driver that brought him to the city center. After that he had not touched his pocketbook. He thought through the brushes he had with a dozen different people as he moved through afternoon foot traffic. One of them must have snatched his wallet, but none stood out in his memory.
    He swore under his breath and lifted his eyes to look for his cab.
    It was just were he’d left it, the driver huddled at the reins. And standing beside it, her eyes lacking that disturbing smile, was Constable White. Adamat swallowed hard and approached the cab.
    “Employment records?” White said. “In the Public Archives?”
    “They’re legally required to have them,” Adamat said.
    “And you and I both know that employment records are as reliable as the rain. You wanted to get rid of me so you could visit the accused from that murder case.”
    Adamat looked around. This conversation seemed to beg privacy, but he didn’t think he wanted to be alone with White. Then again, she could probably smell his hesitance. He climbed inside the cab.
    She followed him in and closed the door, folding her hands serenely in her lap. Adamat remembered the quiet, almost sensual voice she had used on Teef,