The Vampire of Tinkerfall (Elysium #3)

Chapter Three

 As they continued on through the city center in search of Grace, Trinket couldn't stop thinking about the poor butcher. A completely innocent man had been accused of murder and arrested. Even if he was released, there was no doubt that this incident would severely affect his business and reputation.

"Is there nothing we can do to help him?" she asked Booker.

"Help who?" he asked, preoccupied with searching the crowds passing them by.

"The butcher."

"Oh. Right. Help? What do you mean by help?"

"You and I both know he didn't kill that young man. Isn't there a way for us to help clear his name?"

Booker hesitated as he gazed down at her, his face twisted in obvious confliction. Finally, he released a sigh. "I don't see that there is. We have no proof that the Mice did it. And if we go to the police, it will likely implicate us in the case. Our involvement will only muddle the situation."

He was right. And yet she couldn't shake the guilt. "Why did they have to involve an innocent person? Why couldn't they have left the Resurrectionist's teeth in a bag on our doorknob like they did with Mr. Wotton's eyes?"

Letting out a crude laugh, Booker glanced at her. "You've been spending far too much time with me, my dear." His face softened. "I'll try to think of something. Maybe I can persuade Jewkes. He may not be the most pleasant chap, but he's the one bobby willing to listen to reason."

"Perhaps I should speak to him instead. He seems fonder of me than he does of you."

Booker's brow furrowed at this remark, but before he could respond, something snatched the top hat from his head. They looked up and discovered Gin sitting on a stack of crates, a crude fishing pole in her hands. His hat was dangling from the end of the line. The young urchin grinned at his baffled expression.

"Practicing for when the waters thaw?" Booker asked, attempting to grab at his hat.

Gin pulled the line up, keeping it out of his reach. "What waters? The only fish around here are in barrels. And they're not nearly as much fun to bait."

"What use is this method, anyhow?" he asked. "There's no stealth about it."

"True. But it serves as a good distraction while my cohorts pick your pockets."

Both Trinket and Booker looked about for other urchins with sticky fingers. There was no one in sight, although that didn't mean they hadn't been there moments before. Street children were a wily bunch.

A thump came from behind them, and they turned back to the crates to find Gin standing before them, holding Booker's hat out to him. "Don't sweat it. I'm working alone today. I just saw you two being all cozy and couldn't resist."

Trinket felt a blush run up her neck at the urchin's comment, but thankfully, Booker was too busy dusting his hat off to notice. He returned it to his head and gave Gin a disapproving frown, which quickly turned up into a smile that bordered on proud. "Did you hear the commotion?" he asked.

"Heard a police whistle go off earlier," Gin replied. "Another corpse show up?"

"No, I think we've seen the last of our experimental corpses."

"Really? So you found the guy who made them?"

"Not exactly. Let's just say a new round of this game has begun."

"That what the police whistle was all about?"

"Not quite," Trinket said.

"They took the butcher away," Booker explained. "Turns out they discovered a more forbidden meat amongst his regular cuts."