The Vampire of Tinkerfall (Elysium #3)

Chapter Eight

 Jewkes' eyes darted about as he entered the parlour. His scrutinizing gaze passed over every odd and eccentric piece of decor. Trinket was thankful there were no stray body parts or bloody tools lying around. Not that this was the first time he had been in Booker's home. He'd come to interrogate them once before. And certainly he had been inside even prior to that when he came to Booker for help regarding his impregnated mistress. Still, it made her anxious to have a police officer in a parlour that was only feet away from a basement laboratory that contained a wolf skull with iron teeth and an eyeball belonging to a deceased florist.

"Have a seat, Constable," Booker said, motioning to the settee as he seated himself in the armchair.

"Much obliged," Jewkes mumbled, gingerly sitting on the edge of the settee.

"Can I get you anything? Tea? Scones? Or are you here for my medical expertise?" Booker asked, his every word dripping with disdain. "I might remind you there are certain branches of medicine I do not deal in."

Jewkes sneered, and Trinket quickly interceded. "How do you take your tea, Constable?"

The officer's expression softened as he faced her. "Sugar and milk, thank you."

She nodded and made for the dining room door. However, she stopped short of being hit in the face when the door swung open and Daphne appeared with a full tea set on a silver platter. She gave Trinket a wink as she sauntered to the low table and placed the tray on it.

Staring at Daphne's portiums, Jewkes barely muttered a "thank you." Panicking for a moment, Trinket looked to Booker, but he seemed completely unconcerned with the officer being witness to his creations.

"Problem, Constable?" he asked with a smug smile.

Still gawking at Daphne, Jewkes shook his head slowly.

"It's the latest fashion," Booker continued as he crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands on his knee. "I daresay all the ladies will be sporting portable aquariums before long. Perhaps we'll even find a means to add fish. How fetching would that be?"

Poor Jewkes could not tear his eyes away from Daphne, and she gave him a wink and a saucy shake of her hips before retreating into the dining room. Trinket tried to hold back a groan as Booker relished in the officer's shock.

Finally, Jewkes turned to Booker, his surprise having shifted to irritation. "Is this how you spend your spare time, Larkin? On frivolous inventions?"

"Oh, I think we could all use a little frivolity in our lives, don't you, Jewkes? Things tend to get a bit too serious hereabouts. I mean, just look at you. You seem like someone has stuffed a stick up your—"

"You said sugar and milk, correct, Constable?" Trinket interrupted as she stooped over to make up the officer's tea and distract him from Booker's insufferable behavior.

It worked. He focused his attention on her. "Ah, yes. Two sugars, please."

She handed him a teacup and then brought one over to Booker. Pushing it into his hands, she leaned forward and hissed, "Stop goading him when he's here for help."

"He makes it too easy," he whispered back.

"He could be here about the butcher."

Rolling his eyes, he accepted the cup, and she stationed herself by his side. "So, Constable Jewkes, what brings you to my humble abode?" he asked.

Jewkes was sipping his tea and nearly choked on it as his lips twisted into a frown. "I received your notes."

"About the butcher?"