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Twenty-two minutes later, I was sitting in a chair at the desk in Broxden's office at the Stalactite Saloon with my hat in my lap, feeling very slightly like I was up in front of the headmaster at school. Broxden, to his credit, seemed to be keeping his temper in check. "Okay, Gask, tell me what's going on," he growled, throwing himself into his own chair. "Almost certainly, Pow Drumfin was setting up cameras in the dressing-rooms here," I said bluntly, "With the intent of blackmailing you to keep the pictures private." Broxden let out an explosive breath. "I see." "You didn't get a blackmail note, did you?" I asked. Broxden shook his head. "Well, it was just a matter of time," I added, "I imagine you'd have paid through the nose to prevent images like those from appearing in the newspapers." "I'd be forced to," he agreed, "But why didn't you tell me this before." "Well, there are several reasons," I explained in my most reasonable tone of voice, "Firstly, I strongly suspect that Drumfin wasn't working alone. I think there are other Goblins here in cahoots with him and, if I am going to have any chance of working out who they might be, then I need to keep what I know about Drumfin quiet." "Even from me?" Broxden said softly. "Even from you," I agreed, "Secondly, Drumfin was murdered; stabbed by a professional killer, a nice neat job." "The police didn't tell me that," Broxden exclaimed, suddenly wide-eyed. "They wouldn't, as a matter of course," I said, "But the reason Drumfin died might have nothing to do with the Stalactite Saloon - he had something of a murky past, I now know - but there is a chance that somebody here - another one of your employees - killed him, or at least arranged for his untimely demise." I paused for a beat, then went on. "It could even have been you who ordered his death." The look on Broxden's face told me everything I needed to know. He was shocked, horrified, panicky. Unless he was the best actor in the Lower Realms, there's no way he could have been responsible for Drumfin's death. "Not that I think that's particularly likely," I added, "Look, you have to understand that you're my client here, and therefore I am legally obliged to do everything in my power to protect you." "I'm not a murderer, Mister Gask," Broxden managed to stutter. "Yes, I know that," I said softly, "But you still need my help, and my protection. You have a motive, the cops would say, given the pictures you were being shown. You need me to find out who did kill Drumfin, to put you in the clear." Broxden was quiet for a long moment. "Okay," he said finally, "What do we do now?"
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Part 46