The Experimental Murders (Elysium #2)

Chapter Thirty-One

 Booker turned to run out the door, but Trinket caught his arm. "Booker, maybe we should think about this first."

"What is there to think about? We have confirmation that the man we're after is in that apartment building, and now we have his exact room number. Let's go before someone catches wind of this."

Again, he turned to bolt out the door, but she pulled him back once more. The frustration was clear in his eyes, but she persisted all the same. "So what, you're just going to go pound on his door and demand he tell you what he knows about the corpses? And what about the Mice? If you go running into the street like a maniac, they're going to know something is amiss and follow you, perhaps even hurt you."

Though his eyes wandered to the door, his shoulders sagged, and she finally let his arm go. "What do you suggest we do?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I just don't think it would be wise to run into this head first."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Booker leaned against the door. "He's likely on alert after our last encounter with him. So we'll have to be stealthier than usual."

"Do you think he's seen our faces?"

"Possibly. And if he's involved in some sort of shady activity, he's probably already very observant of his surroundings."

"Meaning it will do us no good to stake out the building again."

They stood in silence until someone cleared their throat, and they both looked up to find Daphne still standing in the hallway. Trinket had nearly forgotten she was there. Daphne motioned to the parlour and then to the kitchen before raising a finger.

"I think she's suggesting we sit in the parlour and she'll bring us tea?" Trinket said slowly, not quite sure if her translation was correct.

Daphne nodded and made her way back to the kitchen. Trinket raised her eyebrows at Booker who heaved a sigh and spread out his arms. "Very well, let's sit down. Though we've been sitting all night."

Trinket settled onto the settee and expected Booker to sit in his armchair where he often did his thinking. But instead, he took the place beside her. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he tapped his lips with his tented fingers.

"Perhaps Gin would shadow him for us," he said.

"I suppose," Trinket said.

Daphne entered the room with a tray of tea and toast. Booker's eyes fell upon her and his brows went up. "Or Daphne."

She looked up at the sound of her name and cocked her head to the side.

"Daphne?" Trinket repeated.

"Yes. No one but Gin knows that she's associated with us. If she were to stalk this fellow, he'd be none-the-wiser."

"But she doesn't exactly blend in with those aquariums on her neck."

"We just ordered a cape for her. She'll be fine."

"That means we have to wait until the tailor is finished. Besides, maybe we should ask her before we assume she'll do this."

They both turned to her. She was watching their animated conversation with interest. Now with their attention on her, she straightened her back and folded her hands in front of her skirt.

"Would you be willing to help us?" Trinket asked.

A big smile spread over Daphne's face, and she nodded her consent. Booker beamed triumphantly, and Trinket tossed her hands up in defeat. Booker motioned for Daphne to sit in the armchair, and he leaned in excitedly.