The three sneakily followed the young lord through the bustling streets, using stalls and unsuspecting patrons who were perusing wares as their cover to ensure they weren’t detected. They followed Bosgar through shady lanes between brick buildings and onto streets that led toward quieter roads further away from the commercial district, which had the sight of rolling green hills in the distance.

Bosgar then entered a harse stable. It seemed he was about to order a litter but his direction changed. He continued to stroll up a slope toward a set of factory buildings.

They loitered beneath the eaves of a shed that had a clear line of sight to the entrance of a small common building that Bosgar entered.

“Right. Sangria, stay here and watch for anything untoward. 669, come with me.” Detective Morse gestured for them to enter the building.

When they strolled inside, they saw they had entered a tailor shop where off-cuts of materials were folded and stacked up on wall shelves and long benches. Behind the far-end counter was a pretty young woman, 669 guessed was no older than late teens. He fingered one of the sewn garments hanging up on a rack and noticed each had a tiny lotus motif sewn on the sleeves. It was blended into the fabric so it was hard to spot without attention to detail. No doubt the store’s brand mark. All fashion houses carried a logo of sorts to distinguish their product. But 669 wasn’t sure what business owned the lotus emblem.

“Certainly, good lord. I’ll have your order ready by this evening. My brother can deliver it to your estate on my behalf.” The young woman cordially advised Bosgar with a courteous bow.

“Excellent. I’ve delivered payment to him, so please ensure my suits are delivered.”

The woman acknowledged the order then turned her attention to her work as Bosgar turned away.

“669?”

669 yelped and hastily hid behind a rack of suits, but was clearly spotted by the young lord. Bosgar chuckled, finding the man’s clumsy efforts in trying to pretend he didn’t see him or couldn’t be seen cute.

“I can see you. Were you following me?” Bosgar bluntly approached the man who was blushing like a fool.

“No? Why would I do that?” 669 nervously laughed off and pretended to inspect a suit.

Bosgar sighed. “It’s a shame. Because if you were, I’d reward you for your interest the next time we meet at Maud’s.”

669’s blush deepened when he felt Bosgar’s words flow into his ear as a sweet whisper.

Detective Morse observed the men’s exchange, using the opportunity to learn more of Poirot’s young lord. Seeing the exchange confirmed 669’s report about Bosgar being interested in the same sex. But he wondered how much motivation the man had against his own brother, and what connections he had with Ashton. There was one way to find out.

“Young Master Poirot, I presume.” He stepped forward to introduce himself.

Bosgar’s flirtatious expression sobered into a cautious and businesslike manner. “And to whom do I have the pleasure?”

“Detective Morse of the Royal Guard.” Detective Morse coolly should the man his badge. “May we have a talk outside?”

“Do you know this man?” Bosgar directed his comment to 669 who answered with an awkward laugh.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“If it’s about my brother, I already gave my statement. Anything else, you would need to talk with the family lawyers.”

“It won’t take more of your time.”

669 groaned at the sight of Bosgar’s frown. “I’m working on guard duty for this guard.”

Bosgar’s attitude took a surprising turn for the pleasant. “Oh, well if that’s the case, please let’s talk outside. Maybe at a bar where I can have a drink.”

669 gestured for Sangria to discreet follow them as they made their way to a nearby coffee shop where patronage was quiet for the afternoon.

The waiter hurried to attend to them, leading the men to a choice table inside where the sun and shade were at a perfect and cozy balance.

“A glass of Shiraz for me and my good friends.” Bosgar placed his order and waved away the waiter with a flick of his hand.

When it was clear they were left alone, conversations got straight to the heart of the matter.

“It’s no secret that Marcus and I didn’t see eye to eye. He disliked my preference to bed men, believing a I was a disgrace to the family when he was no different sleeping with any woman that would have him.”

“Did you want to kill your brother?” Detective Morse bluntly asked.

Bosgar chuckled. “You certainly don’t mince around with your questioning. But I understand you have a job to do. So I’ll make it easy for you.”

“Aren’t you worried about family lawyers?” 669 interrupted with his curiosity on what Bosgar considered appropriate family representation. The man mentioned talking through lawyers, yet he was about to divulge intimate information toward the case. What was the man up to?

“Yes, later. Lawyers are skilled in clearing up the impossible.”

The way Bosgar said it so flippantly could almost make him look like a rich brat fool, but 669 could tell the hidden intention behind the words. It was a clear comment that told them that he was untouchable. Should they try to implicate him in the case, he had his ways to be exonerated. Rich people were the kind to be wary around.

“Did I want to see my brother dead? Well, I could definitely live on without him in my life. Nothing would really change, except for less family bickering. But, no, I didn’t kill him. The man clearly was thrown out the window.”

“Thrown?” Detective Morse’s eyes narrowed.

Bosgar nodded and waved away the waiter who had placed three glasses of fine red wine before them. He continued the conversation when their area was free from eavesdropping.

“Yes. My former brother was a bit of beefcake and a skilled fighter. Many times he drunkenly made his way to his bed and woke up to be his brutish self the next morning.” Bosgar paused to sip his wine. The men waited patiently for him to continue the conversation.

“So, for him to just… well, stumble through a window to be splattered on the ground, it is unlikely. Don’t you think?”

“You believed he was pushed?”

“My dear detective. The window has no panes for opening. It’s a glass wall that is double thick and coated with protective magic. Honestly, who put you in charge of the case.”

Detective Morse held back his personal thoughts to the comment. Rich brats were always trying to look clever and condescending.

“So, if he was pushed, and you weren’t the one doing the pushing, who do you think it was?”

Bosgar huffed and stared at the wine he was swirling about his glass.

“And let you skip past the fun? No shot. Be a good detective and solve this riddle for yourself.”

Detective Morse rose when he could see the man wasn’t going to divulge further information. 669 took the detective’s lead.

“For the wine.” Detective Morse placed a small pouch of credits on the table.

The gesture made Bosgar frown like he had been insulted, but he sighed and nodded.

669 rose to follow Morse out of the shop.

“Oh, 669. Meet me at Maud’s tonight. Maybe I might be more generous with details.” Bosgar said with his attention on his wine, which he gulped down.

The men left the shop and met up with Sangria who had been lingering around the nearby harse trough.