The Experimental Murders (Elysium #2)

Chapter Thirteen

 Three days passed while Booker tried to come up with some solution to the corpse in his laboratory. No other bodies showed up, nor did the Mice leave any more body parts on their doorstep. Trinket told him about them scouring the city center as well as Scales' threatening words. He seemed a tad ruffled, but his unease did not slow down his hunt for the creator of these abominations. And while he did show a bit of interest in the man with the dirty fingernails, his obsession with the dead woman downstairs kept him from digging deeper into who he could be.

Trinket was in the kitchen, flipping through a recipe book and trying to decide if she should even bother attempting to make a meal. Just as she had settled on a quick dinner of bread and cheese, Booker entered the room. He had changed his clothes and looked ready to go out.

"Shall we sup at the Clocktower?" he said.

"Looking for livelier company than you've had as of late?"

He chuckled. "Yes, it's been rather dead around here, hasn't it? So, what do you say?"

Rising from her seat, she replaced the recipe book in the dresser and removed her smock. "I'll go change."

She hurried up to her room and donned one of her nicer dresses, setting aside her work garb and straightening up her messy blonde braid. As she made her way down to the foyer, Booker was already in his coat and waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He helped her with her own coat and then held his arm out to her, which she took as they headed out into the night.

The air was brisk enough to make her want to huddle up indoors by a nice fire, but Booker walked with a spring in his step. He almost looked like he might start whistling a jaunty tune.

"You're in an awfully good mood tonight," she said. "Have you figured out new accommodations for our guest?"

A sly smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "You could say that."

"Is she already gone?"

"No, not yet, but she should be on her way by the end of the night."

"And you just thought you'd celebrate prematurely?"

"Yes, and why shouldn't I? We've made quite a bit of progress."

"We've also made quite a few enemies."

He scoffed. "That only means we're getting closer to our goal. Come on, I'm famished."

The Clocktower was rowdy as ever, but the warmth inside was a welcome change from the chill outside. They settled in at a table by a window, and a serving girl brought them some cold meats, cheese, and bread.

Trinket watched Booker as he took a bite of bread and looked about the room. "So are you going to tell me what your plan is?" she asked, nibbling on a piece of cheese.

Turning back to her, he raised his eyebrows. "What plan?"

Sipping her tea, she glanced at the drunk servants two tables down. "For our guest. I'm guessing it's something brilliant."

Her sarcasm was not lost on him. "More brilliant than you know, but I'm sure you expected no less from me," he said with a grin.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"Let's just enjoy our dinner without talk of work."

She traced the rim of her teacup. "What else is there besides work?"

He shrugged. "We could discuss our personal lives."

She cocked an eyebrow. "What personal lives? My life is cleaning your house and helping you preserve wolf skulls. And as far as I can tell, your life revolves around your work."