The room we happen to invade is the home office. I’ve never been in here before, but I notice something is off about the space almost immediately. It's too clean. Too... empty. Sure enough, when I bend to open his filing cabinet, it's vacant. A quick investigation reveals the same to be true about his desk. There isn't a single trace of paperwork. Not even so much as a bill in his name.

"Fuck.” I slam the drawers shut and glance around.

This situation isn't inspiring a quick resolution like I was hoping for. Marco opens the door and clears the hallway, veering toward the foyer while I head for the sitting area. The house is freezing, the air conditioner seemingly maxed out, and there's no way anyone could be dwelling in these temperatures comfortably.

"Call if you need me, boss," Marco whisper-shouts as he disappears upstairs.

My polished leather shoe crunches over broken glass as I turn the corner, and I pause, eyes scanning the fragments of a vase. It's the first sign of Chambers’ haste to leave. Someone must have tipped him off that I'd be coming for him soon. He knows there would be no forgiveness for his interference into my duties to produce heirs. That's the only logical explanation I have. At least until I catch a glimpse of a shadow beneath the settee.

I move quietly, the weight of my pistol heavy in my shoulder holster as I flip on the lamp and wait for movement. But after a few breaths, it becomes apparent the body hiding beneath isn’t going anywhere. A scan of the uniform and the rigidity of her muscles provides an explanation for the chilly temperatures. Whoever stuffed Chambers’ maid beneath that sofa was trying to eliminate the smell of decomposition.

"Christ," Marco grunts when he appears beside me and examines her.

Using my shoe, I nudge the sofa back, and Marco rolls the body over. There's no blood, but it's evident by the bruising on her neck she was strangled. A fact that immediately leaves me to doubt it was Chambers himself who did it. Strangulation is not a quick, easy death. It takes power, strength, and endurance. Someone who is physically fit and capable of squeezing their subject's throat for up to five minutes while they fight for their life. The only endurance Chambers would be capable of for that length of time is deep-throating hamburgers.

"Any sign of him in the house?" I ask Marco.

"No," he says. "Upstairs is clear. All his clothes are still here. Personal toiletry items are untouched. If he did flee on his own, he must have left everything behind."

I drag a hand through my hair and sigh. Already, I know Chamber's didn't leave of his own accord. He's too fond of his materialistic comforts in life to abandon them. Something about this situation reeks of betrayal, and I won't rest easy until I know who's behind it.