Murder investigations shouldn’t go like this. Pascal Hunter is possessing the lovely body of Simza Gray. She hopes to solve the case before the woman’s thoughts and feelings completely overwhelm her. Some of those feelings are towards her new fiance. The rest of the family, and their staff, resent her presence. She is hoping her partner, the eternal ten-year-old Brynn, has better luck than she has had.

A feather bed was one of the things Pascal liked about this mission. It almost made up for having to possess Simza and become a woman. If she were honest with herself, there were many things she liked. A life of luxury carries with it, well, luxury. People with the money to do so made life comfortable. It shouldn’t surprise her that she found it surprisingly comfortable.

At this moment, the feather bed was what she liked.

She sank into it, feeling her body relax in the soft and gentle mattress as it supported her curves. Her head rested lightly on the pillows, every movement or twitch only putting her more at ease.

She knew she was dreaming when she stepped into the Green Goose. Her first clue was that she was in her old body. She was him. Next, the crown molding around the common room was a bit more intricate than it had ever been in reality, where he wasn’t entirely sure whether or not they had any. Finally, while Holly generally dressed nicely and a touch sexily, for work, he was pretty sure he’d never seen her behind the bar in a full length ball gown.

“Evening Holly,” he greeted her. “Nice dress tonight. Hit me up with a shot of bourbon.”

“Sure thing boss,” she answered chirpily. “I like your dress too.”

He was wearing a black dress with matching black shoes and scarf. Clearly he was still in mourning. At first he wondered why no one other than Holly had commented on his dress until he remembered there was no one else here at the Goose other than the two of them.

A wagon rolled into the inn, pulled by a team of oxen. Two other wagons appeared while he tied the oxen to a tree that he didn’t remember planting in the common room. A troupe of people in brightly colored clothing piled out and began setting up a stage near the fire pit.

He wanted to tell them that fire wouldn’t burn in the Goose but realized it was too late to tell them since they already had it burning. Instead, he decided to help by setting up the rope walk while Holly flirted outrageously with some of the men and served them drinks. Paz found himself hoping the men wouldn’t be too drunk to pick some pockets when the show started. They could use the extra cash.

A crowd gathered while they set up and the brightly garbed women smiled and flirted and twirled their hips to ensure the crowd would be as large as possible when night fell. Paz was working with the women and wearing a dress, but his dress was black and he was a man, so he decided not to join the women in that particular task.

An old woman with bright purple nails and a checked green and blue shawl tapped him on the shoulder.

“Yes,” he answered as he spun around. The old woman had Simza’s face but was much older.

“The man will be here again tonight.”

“Many men will be here tonight,” he answered.

The old woman hissed at him. “Do not play the girl with me, Simza Hunter. The man has followed you through three shows. He wants you and you must get the best price you can when he buys you.”

The door to the back room opened. Instead of the restaurant, one of the lavish halls of Nuvye Park was attached to the Green Goose. The iron lamps along the wall were glowing brightly, reflecting off the paneling and molding beneath them. The dark cherry door of Old Lord Pankov’s office, locked during mourning, cracked open. Andrei peaked out, looked around, and exited. Straightening up, he walked into the Green Goose to join them by the fire.

Andrei Pankov looked taller without his brother standing next to him. He was more attractive for being a bit messy, with a tear on his right sleeve and his light brown hair mussed in front. Holly served him drinks and he kissed her hand. Paz felt a surge of jealousy. No, not jealousy. It was possessiveness. Either way, it was inappropriate. He watched Andrei take a seat on a log bench that was wildly out of place in the Goose’s common room.

A lovely young girl in shockingly high heels and a bright red and blue peasant dress with a long cut on the side started dancing for him. Her hips swayed in time to the drumbeats. It looked like she was dancing for the crowd, but her eyes always went to Andrei, and she always showed a bit more leg in front of him.

Paz didn’t feel jealous or possessive this time. The woman dancing was him. It was Simza, who was him, or her. He was watching and she was dancing. He decided it was something that could only make sense in a dream, but he was dreaming, so it must make sense. That satisfied him and her.

The show was over. The Sun had set, and the dim light streaming through the Green Goose’s windows went dark. Purses had been cut and pockets had been picked, but for now the marks were none the wiser. A few guests, none of them marks, remained while they packed and danced the dances they didn’t do for strangers.

“I cannot believe my good fortune in meeting you, Pascal Gray,” Andrei whispered to the girl sitting so close by his side she was nearly in his lap. Pascal stood behind them, listening in, but the boy was so besotted he didn’t notice the strange man in a dress standing behind him.

“The fortune is mine, Andrei,” the girl whispered back. “My family approves of you, and they are very picky. I worried they would not, and I would have to abandon them to run away with you.” She laughed gaily and enchantingly.

“I would never have you leave them,” the young man answered with grave seriousness. He turned around and faced Pascal. “Since that day your brother taught me to recognize when I’m being cheated at cards,” he said with a bitter laugh, “you have turned my whole life around. I would not be the man I am now without you, one who can face my family with pride. Simza Gray, I would make you my wife.”

The old woman with Simza’s face pulled him away from Andrei and Simza. “Now you see why you must leave, meddling spirit.”

“Then you know what I am?”

“Of course not, don’t be silly. I’m just a figment of your imagination, but these are the real Simza’s memories you see. Her family’s fortune depends on this marriage. She’ll not let you ruin it, even if she must destroy you in the process.”

“I only need her for a short time, to solve a mystery for Sofiya. Surely the good will that earns is worth the inconvenience.”

“Only if the good will were to go to her, but Sofiya knows who she hired. Try again, spook.”

“The rest of the family does not know, nor do the servants. Saving a beloved valet will surely earn her their affections.”

“Only if you do not drive away Andrei.”

“I will work on that, and try to solve the case quickly.”

“Then we give you time. But not much. Try to free the valet. But see to it that you do not destroy my Simza’s life in the process,” the old woman said.

“I don’t understand,” Pascal responded.

“Don’t pull that with me,” the old woman responded with irritation. “I told you that you’re dreaming. If you didn’t understand, I wouldn’t have said anything. You don’t want to believe it, but you do understand.”

Pascal awoke with a start, sitting upright in her bed. The light from the lamps was just barely visible under the masking cloth. She recited the dream to herself so she’d remember it, and then drifted back to sleep.

- ♇ -

Only two more days of mourning, Pascal thought as she let the maid fasten her black dress of the day. The lack of color bothered her more than the dress itself. It was a side effect of possession. Her dream had made it worse. Even inside, she was confusing herself with Simza. It was, after all, Simza’s body and brain, there was no way to avoid it influencing her. She had to make an effort to hold on to her real self.

I am Pascal Hunter. I’m borrowing this body while investigating a murder.

And that was her latest problem. She and her body had different priorities. As a detective, she knew that Andrei was a suspect. In her dream she had seen Andrei sneak out of Lord Pankov’s private office. She wasn’t entirely sure whether that was real or not, but had to treat it as a real memory for the moment. Combined with the butler’s offhand comment that Andrei had been out late the night before the murder, she had to investigate him and learn more. Her body, heart and brain, told her to ignore that. She wanted to apologize for upsetting him and win him back.

At the breakfast table, she said good morning and greeted Andrei by touching her hand to his cheek. She was not quite ready to kiss him, though with his mother at the table that would probably be out of line anyway.

“You’re in a much better mood this morning,” he said with a smile.

“Start the day off with a smile, you can stay that way the rest of the day,” she answered back cheerfully.

Sofiya lifted an eyebrow suspiciously. “I’ll start the day off with a smile when I can do something with my hair again,” she replied, watching Pascal like a hawk while waiting for her response.

“Oh, not me,” Paz responded with exaggerated innocence, “We are still mourning your father and must approach that duty with solemnity. I’m not at all looking forward to getting back into bright reds, cheery greens, and stunning yellows.”

That brought welcome chuckles from Boris and Andrei, a fair trade for the disapproving glare from Lady Pankov. “That will be quite enough of that, girls,” she glowered. Sofiya and Pascal both managed to look ashamed.

They were spared more lectures as the footmen brought up breakfast. There was a bright green chili sauce to go on their soft boiled eggs, accompanied by fried tomatoes and sausage with a fresh brown mustard. They had more of that extremely strong coffee. Much though she loved black coffee, she had to cut theirs with cream. She wondered briefly if that was due to her body’s tastes or the coffee’s strength. It didn’t matter. She remembered to control herself and eat more slowly and daintily, sipping at her coffee throughout the meal.

She had to stop herself from scratching her arms. It was probably while riding to meet Sofiya, but she’d gotten some insect bites that weren’t going away. She was worried that her body had allergies, but she didn’t have a good way to find out other than dipping even further into her host’s memories.

I am Pascal Hunter. I will stay Pascal Hunter.

They briefly discussed some of the outlying farms, but the main topic of conversation was Boris’s upcoming Assumption. Lady Pankov was handling the arrangements.

“It would have been so much simpler to let Mr. Chernov handle all the paperwork. With that young Jew taking over the office I have to check everything myself. I wouldn’t put it past him to make a mistake on purpose, and you know how picky they can be at the Arrondissment.”

“Mother,” Sofiya interrupted, “do we still have the Bishop lined up to perform the ceremony?”

Lady Pankov grimaced in confusion. “You know we do. He promised during the funeral. When we return we’ll get an archbishop for the full–”

“Yes, of course. I was just looking forward to seeing him again,” she said quickly.

Pascal carefully kept her face neutral even though she understood exactly what was going on. Sofiya was the only person at the table who knew she was an outsider. Wherever they went when they were not connected to Fall of Night, that’s where their real government existed. Brodjach was huge, but it sounded like this other shard was even larger.

They discussed their plans for the day. Andrei was going to be overseeing some irrigation repairs while Boris would be at one of the outer farms looking into reports of wolves. She and Sofiya were free from any duties.

“I must say,” said Andrei, “that canceling all entertainment during mourning may be unpleasant, but we do get an awful lot more done.” He managed a mournful smile while saying that.

Boris gave him a steady gaze in return. Paz was sure they both knew what they were talking about, but they avoided mentioning it in their mother’s presence. She hoped it was something innocent, but feared otherwise. Just like in her dream, she found Andrei more attractive when he was a little impish.

Boris grabbed his valet, a handsome blond man named Gennady, as soon as he finished breakfast. The young man removed Boris’s jacket and took some supplies out of his kit to clean whatever stain had gotten on it. Pascal was glad for the distraction, as it let her get Andrei’s attention.

“Have you got a few moments, Andrei?” she asked as sweetly as she could.

“For you, kitten, always.” It was amazing what a little charm could do. Andrei was in a much better mood than he’d been the last two days. They went to the library together.

This was going to be difficult for her. The job and her body’s instincts were in conflict. She had to question Andrei without angering him. She gripped his hand tightly, looked up into his eyes, and said sadly, “I do not mean to upset you, my dear Andrei, but please let me ask you more about your father.”

He tried to pull away from her, but she kept her hands on his. “You are going to make Mother angry and– No, that’s not fair. You’ve been spending time with Sonya, haven’t you?”

She didn’t answer, just kept staring at him.

“Well, that’s good, I guess. My sister is– Well, I’m glad of it. Go ahead and ask me what you will.”

“What does your father keep in his office?”

This time he did pull away, jerking his hands back and tightening his mouth. “What? I don’t see how– What does that have to do with anything?”

“Perhaps nothing,” she answered, “but it’s been locked while we’ve been mourning. The inspector didn’t go in there and I’m sure you’ve been there with your father…”

“Oh, yes. Certainly. He has–” She could see the guilt in his eyes. Her memory was real. “Books and records of the various farms, all the tenancy agreements. A writing desk and accounts. It’s all business for him in there. Part of his India collection, for decoration, but nothing of value.”

“Oh,” she said with evident sadness. “I guess it’s not important then.” She reached up and put her hand on his neck, drew him in for a hug. “Thanks for telling me.” He’d told her more than he realized.

He smiled again and kissed her before leaving for the day’s work. She let him and managed not to flinch.

As Andrei exited the room, the butler entered. He held up a finger, asking her quietly to wait. When Andrei was out of sight, he stepped in close to her and said, “You would be well advised to drop this, Miss Gray. Lady Pankov will not extend the same leeway to you that she does to her daughter.”

He towered above her, staring down at the top of her head. Though he was smaller than the Carrabach back in Fall of Night, Paz was smaller now too, and the effect was similar.

She knew the butler overheard her and decided not to try bluffing her way through. “Some one did it,” she answered back with spirit. ”If it wasn’t Yakim then it was someone else. And if that’s the case, he’ll get away with it unless we stop him.”

She’d never seen someone harrumph before. It was just an expression. But Feodor Illyitch had it down pat. There was no other description that would fit. Starting from the curled lip and nose, and extending to the shaking head and forward shoulders, it was the perfect, literal harrumph.

“Romany justice is not practiced here,” he pronounced with finality.

“Tell me what happened that morning anyway,” she insisted.

“Yakim Sergeyin brought me to the room. I woke Lord Boris and brought him to see his father. I sent Yakim to get Lady Pankov, but she would not wake up. While I contacted the gendarmes, Yakim woke Lord Andrei and Lord Boris stayed with his father. Does that tell you anything new?” he asked archly.

“You told me once that Andrei was out late the night before?”

The butler scowled. He looked down that long nose and said, “Lord Boris’s valet, Gennady Pavelov, informed me of that some days later. The mirror alerted him to Lord Andrei’s return in the small of the morning. His bed was unused and the master was still dressed but he did not call for help and Gennady returned to sleep.” He silently indicated his displeasure at not sending help regardless of the hour, but did not elaborate further.

This time she knew what to say.

“I do not think Yakim Seregyin did it. We both know it was not Andrei. I will find out what he was doing, Feodor Illyitch, and show you it could not have been him. Then Sonya and I will find out who did it and get vengeance for Lord Pankov. He deserves it.”

With a shake of his head, the butler just muttered, “Most unladylike.”

But he smiled slightly as he left.

- ♇ -

The morning was already hot and muggy with clouds piling up for a big show in the afternoon. Brynn ran lightly through the grass to the stables. He was running from work in the kitchen to work with the horses, but at least he was working outside. That had to be worth something.

Roman had convinced Mrs. Nesterov that hard work made little boys more docile, so she consented to letting Brynn work in the stables each morning instead of cleaning up for lunch. Brynn wasn’t sure whether he’d gotten the best of that deal or not.

The stable master was happy to see him, at least. It always feels good to see a welcome smile even if it’s just in advance of hard work. A groom was checking a black stallion’s hooves while a pair of broad draft horses watched with great interest from nearby stalls. Roman tossed him an apple before setting him to his tasks.

“Let’s get you started,” Roman ordered with a smile. “Bring in the hay from outside. A bale for each stall.”

Those things weigh almost as much as me. Is he kidding? I wonder how hard I should try before asking for help. Is that the idea? See how hard the kid’ll work before giving up.

He struggled to pick up one of the bales. He could just get it off the ground, but it was too big for him to walk with it.

The groom saw his trouble and yelled over to him, “Swing it on your back.”

He did, and it worked. It was still heavy, and he’d have to struggle to do them all, but it worked. Roman smiled at his groom.

That son of a bitch. He’s not testing me, he’s testing his older guys. They need to help out and train the younger kids and do it nicely. I might have to watch myself. He’s smart.

Brynn was starting to like Roman. Like Mrs. Nesterov, he was the undisputed master of his domain. But he ran things with a lighter touch and a bit of humor.

When Brynn heard a voice he recognized, he peaked out of the stalls.

“Roman Ivanov?” a lilting voice called out.

It’s Pascal. Wonder why he’s looking for Roman. If he doesn’t know I’m here, I can have a little fun with him. I should tell him he looks cute in a dress, or maybe go the other way and say he needs beauty tips from Holly. Darn it all but that’s a nice body he’s got, wonder if he’d be willing to have a little fun before giving it up.

“Yes, miss– Oh, it’s you,” he snarled. Brynn hadn’t seen that expression on Roman’s face before. It wasn’t just distaste, it was active hatred.

“I’d like to ask you some questions about the night Poppa Pankov was killed,” Paz replied. Brynn could tell he’d seen Roman’s reaction, but chose to ignore it.

Roman turned away and went back to prying a stone from a hoof.

“I asked if–”

“Heard you the first time,” Roman interrupted. “You can ask regardless of what I say, so didn’t seem any point in answering.”

Brynn thought he had Roman figured out. He might hate Pascal but he would step through broken glass before he set a bad example for a child. It was time to give his partner a helping hand. Brynn jumped around the corner. “Good morning, Miss Gray. Do you need a horse saddled? Mr. Zefirov, can I saddle a horse?”

Brynn watched the two men react to his appearance. Pascal was surprised but hid it quickly and well. That fast uptake was one of the things Brynn appreciated in his partner. Roman showed less surprise but didn’t hide it at all. He’d forgotten Brynn was there.

“No, Brynn, Miss Gray doesn’t need a horse right now, she just has some questions. You get back to changing the feed, and maybe you can walk her back to the house when you’re done.” Roman controlled his voice, trying to be nice, just as Brynn intended.

“Good to see you again Brynn,” Paz lilted with a smile. “I didn’t know you were working out here, but I’d love to have an escort back to the house.”

Good for him, he can see it. Roman likes me, so if he’s nice to me, Roman likes him a little more. Give him another century or two and he might be nearly as smart as me.

“What was it you wanted, Miss Gray?” Roman asked while continuing to work with the horse.

“The night before Poppa died,” she began while scratching her arm. “Did Andrei come out this way? Did he take a horse?”

Don’t be so blunt next time, you bloody fool. Roman expects you to act all ladylike and helpless. Wait? The younger son too? And Larisa, and Yakim? Was anyone in the house to kill off the old guy?

Roman looked up from the horse with a jerk of his head. “Now I know he hasn’t told anyone and I haven’t either. How did you come to know that, ma’am?”

Unfortunately, Brynn had to fetch another bale of hay to keep up appearances and he missed the next stretch of conversation. He could still see them. Roman stood up and led Pascal back deeper into the stables. His partner tripped slightly on his heels, to Brynn’s amusement, but quickly recovered. He had a bit of a sway to his hips. The shoes must make him walk like a lady.

When Brynn finally got back in earshot, he heard Roman telling Paz, “– poachers. He’d been going out after them twice a week, taking it as serious as I ever seen the old man do. Wanted to surprise Lord Pankov with a finished job. Of course I helped him out.”

“But he had to bring his pistols. Was it that dangerous? What if they fought back?”

Paz sounds like he’s really concerned. Good acting on his part. The gasp and hand over mouth really makes him look scared. Great way to get sympathy, partner.

“Lord Andrei’s a good rider, he always was. He could get away from any poachers. As it happens they never got the chance to fight back when he caught them. He shot one and the others run off and haven’t been back. Might be you know the one he shot,” Roman spat with venom, “He was Romany.”

Pascal stopped and looked around a little, like he was lost. Time for Brynn to ride to the rescue again.

“What’s a Romany, Mr. Zefirov?”

“You shouldn’t be eavesdropping, boy,” he snarled. Then he caught himself, relaxed, and said, “Romany is another word for gypsy. If you don’t have them in Fall of Night, you’re lucky.”

Wonder what he’s got against gypsies. They’ve been fun every time I’ve seen them. Wait a second, Simza’s a gypsy name. Pascal’s a gypsy. Cool. I wonder if he can read my palm. Maybe I can get him to read some other part of me.

“So the poachers were Romany,” Pascal came back. “If they’re poaching from these grounds, they’re no friends of mine.”

Roman glowered at her, “Is that it?”

“One thing more. When did Andrei get back?”

“Was a late night. Two, maybe three in the morning.”

Paz thanked Roman and stepped outside to wait while Brynn finished up. Roman warned Brynn to be careful and bring her back to the house.

He and Paz traded information on the way back.

“So the lovers got back a bit after midnight,” Brynn summarized. “And your squeeze gets back a few hours later. Either of the lovers had plenty of time to kill, but since the maid set up the date it pretty much takes the valet off the hook. Going out on a date’s not a good warm up for murder. The maid would be a better suspect if she got any advantage from using Yakim, but I don’t see it. Your honey gets back a bit too late to be in the lead but it’s still possible. If he was out hunting poachers, he probably didn’t have much control of his schedule. It would be bad planning

So we’ve got three suspects and don’t like any of them.”

“Sounds like you’ve gotten ahead of me on actually clearing Yakim. We can’t eliminate him, but you’ve raised real doubts,” Paz admitted ruefully.

“Darn straight.” With a leer, he added, “Maybe we can change the bet for who makes the best progress. Give me a peak before you give up that sweet body?”

Paz drew back, offended. “Don’t even joke about that.”

That’s odd. He’s usually fine with my dirty jokes. What’s happening inside that sweet little head of yours, partner?

Brynn thought about it in silence as they walked back to the house.

- ♇ -

Just as he’d expected, the heavens opened up into a massive thunderstorm in the afternoon. Brynn had to add mopping up puddles by the door to his duties scrubbing pots.

His work in the stables, while tiring, was more interesting. The drudgery of the kitchens was wearing on him. The high point of the day was finally getting to contact Pascal and trade information.

The poor guy has to investigate his fiance for murder. I can just picture the interrogation now. Rub that sweet body against him to get him in the mood, then whisper sweetly in his ear, “And what were you doing on the night of the murder?”

From there he let his imagination have free reign. The endless toil got a little more fun.

CLANG

Mrs. Nesterov banged a pot on the counter next to Brynn, making him nearly jump out of his skin. “Don’t use a wire brush on copper, boy,” she shouted at him.

The kitchen came to a halt as everyone turned to stare at the confrontation. This could be the evening’s entertainment. He knew the right response, the only response. He bowed his head, “Sorry, Mrs. Nesterov.”

If I grab the pot with enthusiasm and toss it in the soapy water, I can get us both soaked, he thought. Despite the temptation, he didn’t.

A few moments later Tamara idled over to him and whispered, “Don’t take it too hard, Brynn. She’s been like that all morning. You were lucky to miss it.”

With a nod and a glance to be sure Mrs. Nesterov’s attention was elsewhere he whispered back, “So what’s eating her?”

She leaned in so they wouldn’t be overheard. Brynn spared a vain hope that she wanted to get close to him. At least he could pretend while the cute girl whispered in his ear. “You know Lord Andrei’s intended, the gypsy? Well, Gennady Pavelov, that’s Sergey’s brother, is Lord Boris’s valet, and he says she’s been stirring up trouble over Lord Pankov and really upsetting everyone.”

That’s not fair. I’m the one figuring things out. If anyone should be upsetting people it’s me.

“So why is Mrs. Nesterov upset?” Brynn whispered back, enjoying putting his mouth close to her ear and pretending he was doing more. “I thought she liked Mr. Laskutin.”

“Hsh,” she hissed, turning away suddenly and going back to her work with a feigned air of angelic innocence. While no one was fooled by her act, least of all the martinet cook, she let it pass in favor of getting started on dinner service.

That was all he did for the next few hours. He scrubbed pots and pans until they shone, cleaned glass until it was all but invisible, and washed plates until– well, until you could eat off them.

When he finally got a break Tamara grabbed his arm, “Come with me. I’m going to meet Sergey by the smoke house and I need you there.”

She didn’t wait for him to answer before dragging him off. He wound up tromping through the rain to the small wooden building where they smoked meats. The smell made his mouth water as soon as he got close to it. Pastrami, ham hocks, salmon, beef, and who knew what else were hanging inside the hut while a low smoky fire was kept burning round the clock. The tall teen-aged footman was waiting for them under the eaves and out of the rain.

“Hi there Tomo,” he greeted them. “Is this your chaperon?” he asked as he bent down slightly to greet Brynn.

Brynn didn’t know it was possible, but he managed to hate Sergei even more.

“Brynn had a break the same time I did,” Tamara replied with a negligent toss of her head. “So we just decided to come out here together. Nothing more.”

Tease.

She meant to tease Sergei and was getting Brynn for free. What a deal.

“Your brother’s got Mrs. Nesterov in a mood,” Tamara needled. “So tell us what’s been happening. If we’re going to suffer for it, we might as well get in on the good stuff.”

Sergei put his hand to his chin and acted like he was thinking it over until Tamara finally got impatient and shoved him. Brynn was impressed. Sergei knew Tamara was playing with him, and he could play back. It would make it harder for Brynn to make his move. There was no way he was going to let the opportunity slip.

“First off,” Sergei started with a slow drawl, “we aren’t going to have to answer to the gypsy lady for much longer. Lady Pankov is furious with her and she’ll get Lord Boris to revoke the old man’s blessing as soon as he’s sworn in.”

Too bad for Pascal. Hope he got some nookie in first. How many opportunities like that do you get? Hey, if he’s not engaged any more, maybe he’ll give me a shot at him before he gives up that bod. Sweet.

“Too bad for Lord Andrei,” Tamara said in return. “He seemed so happy with her.”

“I guess,” sulked Sergei, who’d clearly expected a more cheerful response. “He used to be pretty wild I hear. There was a heck of a stink when he came back with a lot of gambling debts to pay off anyway.”

“Yes, yes,” interrupted Brynn, “but Mr. Laskutin? The murder?”

“Eager little fellow, aren’t you?” The footman looked down at Brynn and rubbed his hair affectionately. Brynn knew what he was doing. Being indulgent towards him made Sergei look older and better to Tamara. Brynn was annoyed he got used so easily. Still, case first, romance later. The teen only had looks, height, and age on Brynn. He didn’t have a chance.

“I got this from Zhenya,” he said. That was Gennady, Lord Boris’s valet. Since he was Sergei’s brother, the teen was allowed to use the familiar name. “But he saw Lady Pankov’s maid, Miss Schuykov, sneaking a book into the library. He checked and found out Mr. Laskutin borrowed it.

“Now, the way I see it, that makes her the killer. She must have brought Lady Pankov her sleeping draught the night of the murder but doubled the dose so she wouldn’t wake up. That gave her plenty of time to sneak in and kill Lord Pankov. She’d been stepping out with Mr. Laskutin so she could get into his room, plant the torn blanket, and take the book.”

That’s not too bad. The bit about the book doesn’t fit, but that was my doing. No need to tell him that, but maybe I can make him look stupid later. I wonder why Miss Schuykov would have done it. I might have to take another look at her.

“So why’s Mrs. Nesterov so angry about all this?” Tamara complained.

“Oh that. Zhenya told Mr. Menschikov about the book so he could tell Lady Pankov or Lord Boris. Mrs. Nesterov overheard the whole thing. But Mr. Menschikov stopped it cold. He told Zhenya not to repeat the story to anyone. So she’s angry about it since she wants to get Mr. Laskutin out of lockup and maybe put Miss Schuykov in.” Sergei was grinning like a madman. He liked gossiping and being the center of attention.

Tamara laughed cheerfully for the same reason. Brynn scowled.

He was annoyed. Doubly annoyed. He’d just watched his rival make time with the girl he wanted– and she didn’t even know Brynn was a rival. And the case got more complicated. He had to add another suspect to the list. What else could go wrong?

“Brynn.” They all heard the cook yelling from the kitchen. “Get back in here. These pans are still filthy.”

He should have known better than to even think that.