Tempt the Devil (The Devil of Ponong series #3) by Jill Braden Page A

said.
    “This is wrong, sir, wrong!” Mityam banged his walking
stick against the floor to emphasize each word. “I will make reports. I shall
write letters!”
    “Maybe it won’t come to that. The Governor is going to
find Turyat’s real killer and free Lady QuiTai. Isn’t he?” Voorus stared
hopefully at Kyam. “He found the– Oops! Can’t talk about that, but he
solved the Harbor Master’s murder almost a year ago. He was an agent with His
Majesty’s Intelligence. He can figure it out. Can’t you, Kyam?”
    “I’m not sure how to solve a murder. If the militia
destroyed the crime scene, I’m not sure I can read what’s left,” Kyam blurted
out. It felt good to admit that. The Thampurian way was to hide all weakness,
but he was out of his depth. Maybe Thampur’s finest legal mind could offer some
valuable insight.
    Mityam’s hand trembled on the head of his cane. “Or you
could ask QuiTai. She’s a clever girl. From what I hear, it was her brothel
where the body was found. Surely she would have some idea.”
    Kyam gulped as Mityam’s piercing gaze shone from behind
his heavy, wrinkled eyelids. For a moment, it felt as if his grandfather were
in the room. He wouldn’t shiver, but it was hard not to.
    A suspect thought infiltrated his brain. What if QuiTai
knew about Turyat’s murder and set up her arrest to divert attention? That was
convoluted even for her. It didn’t make sense. But her wanting to be taken to
the fortress didn’t make any sense either. The further he stepped back from
this, the worse the big picture looked.
    “Would you believe the prime suspect if they pinned the
murder on someone else?” he asked.
    “Who said she was the prime suspect? She has a solid
alibi. It’s circumstantial that her place of business was the scene of the
crime,” Mityam said.
    “If anyone could murder someone while she was somewhere
else, especially with a perfect, unshakable alibi, it would be QuiTai.”

 
    ~ ~ ~

 
    Kyam grabbed a bottle of aged whiskey from the bar in his
office and hooked two glasses with his fingers. He could never get past Chief
Justice Cuulon’s secretary, so he went out on the veranda and let himself into
the chief justice’s office through the typhoon shutters.
    Cuulon sat on a divan, elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed
on something that wasn’t in this world. “Go to hell, Zul.” He sounded
exhausted.
    Kyam set the glasses on Cuulon’s desk and filled them with
whiskey. He put Cuulon’s drink on a low table by the settee. It was rude enough
that he’d come in uninvited; taking a seat would have been beyond the pale. He
leaned against a bookcase. He started to say something, but then realized he
should have thought this through before he left his office.
    When offering sympathies for any misfortune, but
especially death, the less said the better, his mother had told him many times.
If you’re truly sorry for their loss, visit them the week after the funeral,
and at least once a month after that. That’s real manners. If you aren’t sorry,
keep your visit short and don’t be a hypocrite. Unless, of course, they matter
socially. Then you had better make a good show of it.
    “I came to offer my condolences.” That was honest.
    It made him uncomfortable to see that the man he hated had
real feelings.
    Cuulon’s gaze finally made the long climb up to meet Kyam’s.
“He’d be alive now if it weren’t for you.”
    Why did he even try to be nice? He always regretted it. “I
didn’t kill Turyat.”
    “No, you idiot! He wouldn’t have become an addict if you
hadn’t ruined his life.” Cuulon looked as if he might say more, but changed his
mind and gulped the drink Kyam had poured for him.
    Kyam winced. That whiskey was almost as ancient as
Grandfather. “I’d appreciate hearing any theories you might have as to why
Turyat was murdered.”
    Cuulon’s ears turned pink. He tipped the glass to his lips
again and licked the drops away. “Who needs