The Vampire of Tinkerfall (Elysium #3)

Chapter Nineteen

 Tossing the arsenic onto the stairs as she burst through the front door, Trinket rushed down to the laboratory where Booker was still staring at the snake. When she reached the bottom step, he glanced up at her with an excited grin.

"Ah, you missed it," he said. "I caught one of the mice and threw it into the jar. The snake went right for it, just struck it and—"

"Booker, the shopgirl is dead."

His smile disappeared as he stood up. "The one we treated?"

She nodded.

Heaving a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. "Can't say I'm surprised. Like I said, snake bites are difficult to treat."

"Jewkes wants you to do an autopsy on the body to see if you can pick up on any clues."

"Must be killing him to have to come to me for help. Well, let's be off, then. Don't want to keep the officer waiting."

Leaving the snake behind, he followed her up the stairs and out the door. They huddled under the umbrella, but it was a bit small for two people. Booker, being the taller of the two, took hold of it and tilted it so that it mostly covered her. Seeing this, she snaked her arm around his waist and pulled him closer. He looked down at her in surprise and nearly dropped the umbrella in a mud puddle.

"Won't do you any good to catch a cold," she said as they continued on. "You have work to do."

He nodded, turning his eyes away. "Right, right, of course."

They were well on their way to the station when they heard a commotion over on Nightingale Lane. A large crowd had gathered in front of one of the apartment buildings despite the miserable weather. Most looked as though they had come from the neighboring buildings and shops, very few of them dressed for the rain.

"What's all this?" Booker said, leading her in the direction of the excitement.

"You think this is where the shopgirl lived?" she asked.

Her suspicions were confirmed when Jewkes' voice bellowed over the noise and the crowd parted to let him through. He was holding something long in his arms, wrapped up in a stained quilt. Trinket's stomach dropped, imagining that it could only be one thing. The sobbing girl from earlier followed behind him, the tears on her cheeks mixing with the rain.

"Need a hand, Jewkes?" Booker asked as the officer drew closer.

The constable's lip twitched, but he nodded nonetheless. Trinket took the umbrella from Booker as he grabbed hold of one end of the body. She watched, ready to jump in and assist if needed.

The crowd was beginning to disperse, whispering anxiously about the incident. As they returned to their homes and shops, Trinket glimpsed a familiar face. It took her a moment to place it, but then she realized it was the girl she had seen in front of the old man's apartment building, the one with blood smeared around her wrist. The look of terror now on her face echoed her horror at the scene of the last murder. But seeing her amongst a sea of faces made Trinket realize there was something different about this girl's horrified expression. Unlike the other onlookers, her eyes held more than terror. They held recognition. Panic. Anxiety.

Guilt.

Trinket's grip on the umbrella tightened, and she looked back at Jewkes and Booker who were arguing about who should walk which way. "Booker, I need to check on something. I'll meet up with you later," she said.

His brow furrowed for a moment, but he nodded and returned his attention to the task at hand. She turned back to the dwindling crowd, hoping the girl hadn't already disappeared.