Free Murder at the Kinnen Hotel by Brian McClellan

in front of at least three neutral witnesses, and give him five seconds to say no, you can then punch him in the face without being arrested for striking an officer of the law.”
    Dorry squinted at him.
    Adamat balled up his fist and planted it between Dorry’s eyes. The lieutenant went down in a spray of blood and curses, crimson streaming from between his fingers as he clutched at his face.
    “Bloody pit!” he yelled in a nasally tone, “He just broke my nose!”
    Adamat rubbed his fist. The brief moment of satisfaction he felt left him almost immediately. There would be reprisal for this, regardless of any archaic law. He was just as big a fool as Dorry. Best to leave the scene immediately and go somewhere he could figure out how to put his life back together.
    He pushed open the door, vaguely conscious of the constables rushing to help Dorry. The lieutenant called out after him. “You’re not just a failure, Adamat! You’re a disgrace! Everyone’s always going to know it, from me down to that stupid cook Genetrie that you tried to convince me didn’t kill her master! You’re a bloody disgrace, and that’s something I’ll never be.”
    Adamat kept walking, trudging through the snow. He still had his spare pocketbook on him, but he had the feeling he should save his krana for when he needed to pay the fines that would no doubt be levied when they convicted him for bribery. He’d walk home instead of taking a cab tonight.
    He was three blocks from the precinct building when something clicked in his mind.
    The cook. Dorry had said her name. Genetrie. Adamat had read that name recently, and not just in the newspapers. He ran through his memories until he found it.
    By Kresimir, Dorry was right about the cook . She did murder her master. But not for the reason Dorry thought.
    Adamat set off at a run.
    Adamat caught up to White as she left by the front door of the precinct building about forty minutes later. He was out of breath and panting as he reached her, a large book from the Public Archives stuffed under his arm. She did not stop, forcing him to walk at a quick pace beside her.
    “I’ve nothing to say to you,” White said.
    “I wasn’t bribed,” Adamat said. “I swear this to you. And even if I was, would it matter to our investigation? I can still help you!”
    “I don’t need your help.”
    “Yes,” Adamat said, “you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have come to me in the first place.”
    White’s brisk pace increased. “It’s not about being bribed. It’s that you have vested interest in steering my attention back to the murder at the Kinnen Hotel, something I’ve expressed to you in no uncertain terms I will not become involved with.”
    “But I don’t have vested interest, I wasn’t … “ Adamat stifled a shout. As White said, she didn’t care whether or not he had been bribed. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that they were growing near to White’s cab. He had the feeling that if he tried to get inside with her he would get himself gutted.
    “Look,” he said, “whether or not you believe Aleksandre’s accusations—which, I might add, are all too damn convenient coming after I visited his cousin—our search does have to do with the murder at the Kinnen Hotel. It began there, it will end there. There is something far bigger at work that includes Ricard Tumblar’s attempts at unionization. If we only catch the powder mage and do nothing about the root of the problem, Walis Kemptin and his family will continue to make a mockery of our laws, of the king, of the cabal!”
    White stopped walking and slowly turned toward Adamat. “You still have no first-hand evidence that connects the Kemptin family to any of this. Perhaps it aligns with their interests, but that does not prove anything.”
    Adamat said, “Listen to me for just another minute. Let me show you something intriguing and if it doesn’t catch your interest I will walk away immediately.” He hefted the book in