Chapter 27
“Murdered...? By who on earth?”
Josée lowered her gun after confirming the area was clear.
“But I didn’t hear any gunshots...”
“Me neither. Maybe because of the rain... or I was asleep.”
The muddy, wet footprints wandered across Maurice’s room, heavy with moisture. Glass from the shattered window beside the bed had fallen across the blankets. The key to the room sat neatly atop the desk.
“Was the door left unlocked... or did someone come in through the window?” Josée murmured.
She looked up at the ceiling. A clothesline stretched across it, with a soaked frock coat draped over it. In the fireplace, a small fire still smoldered.
“Huh. It’s sweltering in here... Are you telling me Maurice-sama lit a fire in this heat?”
Meanwhile, Serge was crouched beside the body, examining it closely. A former soldier, he was no stranger to corpses.
“Hmm? Something’s not right...” he muttered, pointing just below Maurice’s neck. “Look here. His throat’s been slashed.”
Josée knelt to take a closer look.
“You’re right. So he was slashed... and shot?”
“He was killed with an unusual level of thoroughness.”
But Josée frowned, tilting her head.
“...Something’s off about this.”
Serge glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
“Look. Normally, if someone’s throat gets cut, there’d be a lot more blood, right? But here... it’s barely there. Even on the carpet—see? Only a few drops.”
“You’re right,” Serge said, rubbing his chin. “So maybe he was killed somewhere else and brought here?”
“That’s one possibility... or maybe someone tampered with the body after he’d already been dead for a while.”
Serge nodded slowly.
“Yeah. A corpse won’t bleed like that once the heart stops.”
“Two possibilities, then. Either way, it’s a tasteless crime. It feels... overprepared.”
The two stood.
“We’ve seen enough. Let’s wake the other representatives. Have someone get the horses and call the police.”
Suddenly, chaos erupted throughout the Radical Party headquarters.
Enzo stood frozen, mouth agape at the news of his father-in-law’s death. Pascal, on the other hand, exploded with rage.
“What the hell is going on with security!? Are you telling me some thief just strolled in and unlocked the front door!? All of you—every last one of you...!”
Yelling won’t help now, Josée thought, exasperated.
Clovis stood nearby, wearing a grim expression, but remained silent. As one of the party’s top brass, he probably felt he couldn’t afford to show panic.
The police arrived soon after. Growing groggy, Josée slumped into a chair, dozing off as she waited.
Then, sensing a stare, she blinked awake. Standing there, drenched from the rain, was Bernard.
“...You again.”
“Oh my. A man soaked in mystery and charm,” he replied with a smirk.
“Hmph. You don’t mean that,” she said, unimpressed.
With a scoff, Bernard brushed past her and began circling the room with the investigators.
“So the first to discover the body were Josée... and Serge, huh?”
He paused, fixing her with a sharp look. Josée pouted.
“What?”
“Tell me exactly what happened when you found the body.”
She recounted the events in detail. After listening carefully, Bernard muttered to himself,
“No one heard a shot, and no weapon’s been found, huh...”
Josée’s eyes wandered around the room.
“Something caught my attention,” she said.
“What is it?”
“Those shards of glass.”
Bernard stepped closer, examining them. He gasped softly.
“...You might be onto something. They could be part of the weapon.”
“But the gun is still the bigger issue. I think the gunshot was probably the fatal wound.”
“We’ll search for it. Maybe the culprit tossed it outside. Or maybe...”
Bernard glanced toward the other Radical Party members. Serge and the others were being frisked by officers.
A policeman approached.
“Inspector, none of them were carrying a firearm.”
“Hm. What about Josée?”
“......”
Without a word, Josée drew the pistol from her thigh holster and handed it over.
“So you’re the culprit after all,” Bernard said dryly.
“I am not!”
She snapped at him, then collected herself.
“Anyway... what’s your take on the case? How do you think Maurice-sama died?”
Bernard surveyed the room from a higher vantage point, then shared his thoughts.
“Well... I just got the report. Apparently, someone took money from Maurice-sama’s wallet. And there’s evidence of bullets lodged in the broken window.”
“In the window, huh...”
“Maybe the shot came from outside, passed through the glass, and hit him.”
“The shooter must’ve had incredible aim. If Maurice-sama had moved even a little, they would’ve missed.”
“That’s something that’s been bothering me too. But I think... maybe the opportunity came at a very specific moment.”
“When?”
“The clothesline on the ceiling. It rained all day, right? Maurice-sama probably lit the fireplace and hung his coat to dry. If someone timed it just right, they could’ve taken the shot then.”
The line was strung high up. Even Josée needed a chair to reach it, so Maurice, despite being a man, likely had to stretch as well.
“But lighting a fire in this heat? That’s odd.”
“Probably just to dry the coat. Older folks aren’t always sensitive to temperature. He might not have thought twice.”
There were still some nagging questions, but Josée had to admit—Bernard’s theory held together.
“True. So you think the killer shot him through the window during that moment?”
“Yeah. And if the glass shattered in the process, they could’ve climbed in through the tree outside. That would explain why the door was unlocked and how the intruder got inside.”
“Still... something doesn’t sit right. If the shot came from that angle, wouldn’t there be more blood on the floor?”
“Good point...”
“And why slash his throat too? That part doesn’t make sense.”
“Yeah...”
They fell silent, staring at the floor in thought. Then Serge approached them.
“Looks like the rain isn’t letting up. We’ll have to stay here for the night.”
“Well, no helping it now. At least we’ve got a good number of officers on hand. Might as well hunker down and stay safe,” Josée said.
Then Serge turned to her, gripped her shoulders, and with a desperate look, said,
“Josée... you must not die.”
She smiled calmly.
“I’m not worried. After all... you’ll protect me, won’t you?”
Bernard stood a few steps away, watching them, a puzzled look on his face.