"I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven." —Luke 10:18
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The Shelby betting parlor was packed after Monaghan Boy's win, everyone vying for the chance to put money on the magic horse before the race that afternoon. As business improved, Trixie's hours at the shop increased, and she was falling behind in her counting. Notes kept piling up on the table, amounts counted and passed onto her and then collected by runners in tophats, as John shouted out statistics and names from the platform by the chalkboard in an effort to egg people into increasing their bets. Trixie loathed to give Tommy credit, but his plan had been a good one. They were going to be rich by the time this horse lost.
Finn skidded to a stop by her table, holding a tophat out. Taking a moment to catch her breath, Trixie smiled at him as she pushed the money into it. "How are you, Finn?"
"Tired," he said. "And hungry."
"Aw," Trixie said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a few coins. "Here. We've got 15 minutes until the betting window closes, why don't you go to the market and get something to eat then, yeah?"
Beaming, Finn accepted the coins, pocketing them and casting a nervous look out for his siblings. "Thank you, Trixie."
"Anytime, kid." She put her purse away, reaching out for the next stack of notes. "You'll be good, yeah?"
He nodded vigorously, and with that, he was off, disappearing back into the crowd to finish up his work for the day. Trixie wished that her shift ended the same time as his—between the recurring nightmare, increase in business, and now the block of time she needed to devote each morning to listening to James' unbearable stories of Cambridge and his many childhood nannies. How could a man who had achieved so little at the end of it all possibly have this much to say about himself? Trixie couldn't seem to figure it out. But they were running at a deficit, and they'd need to keep counting until all the money had been tracked in the books—by the looks of it, a few hours into the evening.
She wasn't even technically supposed to be working; her surveillance had meant a weeklong vacation, but the shop had gotten so busy and James had gotten so intolerable that she'd made up some event she needed to gather information on for Inspector Campbell. They'd reluctantly allowed her to return, but only on the condition that James lurk across the street in the Garrison for the entirety of the day.
The front door opened and Trixie looked up. Tommy. Though he spent some time greeting the men by the door, his eyes locked in on her almost instantly, and he was soon pushing past them and making a beeline in her direction. "We need to talk," he announced.
