Chapter 8
Shoved into the carriage, Josée and the others were carted off to the Royal Capital Police. The building was one she knew well—Josée had been here many times before to register new courtesans. Once a lavish villa for the king’s mistress, the opulent structure now bustled with stocky officers and sharp-eyed detectives.
After stepping down from the carriage, Josée and the three courtesans were led inside by Bernard.
"Interrogations will be conducted one at a time. Josée, that room's yours."
"...Understood."
Josée stepped into the interrogation room. The detective waiting for her wasn’t Bernard.
She explained that she had spent both the day before and the day of Frédéric’s estimated time of death at the brothel. A customer had already testified to seeing her on the floor during a prior questioning, which cleared her of any suspicion.
The other courtesans were brought in one after another. Since they’d entertained numerous clients, it was likely they’d all have solid alibis.
When the four regrouped afterward, they let out a collective sigh of relief and exchanged glances.
"So... are we in the clear now?" one asked hopefully.
Bernard, who had been observing from the corner, answered flatly.
"You're still under surveillance. If you're summoned, you must report immediately."
"Ehh?! That means we can’t take clients during the day!"
"Tough luck. No outings until we catch the killer."
"No way! I wanted to visit Château Fournier!"
"If you insist, we can assign an officer to tail you."
"...Seriously?"
"Keep quiet if you want off the watchlist faster."
Grumbling, the four courtesans turned their backs on Bernard and left the police headquarters—only to run into a familiar face at the carriage stop.
"Ah, Serge...!"
"Josée. It’s been a while."
It was the first time she’d seen him since the ring incident. A flicker of relief passed through her unease.
"Are you a suspect too?" she asked.
"...To put it bluntly, yeah."
"Well, you *were* snooping around Frédéric-sama."
"Haha, fair. But it wasn’t just that—his wife, Lady Suzanne, personally named me as a suspect."
Josée furrowed her brows in confusion, but Serge kept talking.
"Don’t worry, I’ve got an alibi. That’s why I’m out. After I last saw Frédéric-sama at parliament, I went on a provincial tour with some Radical Party newcomers. I wasn’t even in the capital until yesterday. No way I could’ve killed him, chopped up the body, and dumped it all on my own. I’ve got multiple witnesses backing me up. That’s why they let me go."
Josée fell silent, thinking it over.
"But why would Lady Suzanne single you out? Is she trying to frame you?"
"Maybe she got wind of my movements."
"...Then did Frédéric-sama tell her about you?"
"...Possibly."
Just then, a coachman from the Baradur family approached, prompting Serge to speak quickly.
"Listen—"
"What is it?"
"Frédéric-sama’s funeral is next week. It’ll be held at the church in his hometown, Serpet City."
"I see..."
"Want to come? He *was* a major client of the brothel."
The way their eyes met made it clear—this wasn’t just a memorial visit. It was reconnaissance.
"Serpet still does funeral processions, right?"
"Which means we can blend in easily."
"...Fine. I owe him some memories. But Lady Suzanne might turn us away."
"We’ll deal with that when the time comes. But..."
Serge lowered his voice.
"If Frédéric-sama was passing information to his wife, we need to keep a close eye on her."
Josée nodded. Without another word, Serge turned and boarded the Baradur carriage.
Josée’s carriage rolled off toward Brothel Lirondelle, still under the watchful eye of the Royal Capital Police.
That night, the brothel reopened for business.
Before long, Mathieu from Lacroix Trading arrived and requested Lisette and Josée. Lisette went first to warm up the room. Josée, still nursing a foggy mind, shifted gears into work mode and took her place.
"Lord Mathieu, thank you for waiting."
"Word is you got treated like a suspect—what a pain in the ass!"
Blowing out a puff of pipe smoke, Mathieu vented his frustrations.
"And that gold ring the Fédor rep made such a fuss about? Turns out it was *plated*! Can you believe that?"
Josée shot a sharp glance at Lisette, who quickly averted her eyes.
"That information is part of an active investigation. Please keep it confidential."
But then, Mathieu said something that caught her off guard.
"Maybe it got swapped in a scam? Replaced with a fake somewhere along the way."
A spark lit in Josée’s mind.
"A fake... swapped...?"
"Exactly! Look at this, Josée!"
He yanked a bundle of rings from his pocket—gaudy, gold-linked pieces that glittered suspiciously.
"These are all counterfeits of our original designs! They’ve been sold as *real gold* in antique markets. They’re so convincing, customers came storming in yesterday demanding refunds. Total trash!"
Josée examined the pile of rings strewn across the table. The craftsmanship was certainly convincing. Her instincts told her this was a lead.
"Do you know where these were made?"
"Hah! That's what I was hoping *you* could tell *me*. You’ve got deeper ties to the underworld, right?"
"..."
Josée scrutinized the rings more closely.
"I’ll look into it... but it might get dangerous. I’ll need payment upfront."
"Straight to business, eh? Fine, take this gold bracelet."
Mathieu slid his own bangle onto the table.
(*If I check that place... maybe...*)
A hunch began to take shape in Josée’s mind.