There were three men in the parlour with Booker when Trinket arrived home. She recognized one as Jewkes, but the other two officers were unfamiliar to her. They pulled their attention away from Booker and focused on her as she closed the front door. Cautiously, she made her way into the parlour and glanced at Booker lounging on the settee.
"Perfect timing," he said. "These fine officers are likely parched from all the questions they've been asking. Perhaps you could make them some tea? I'd have offered myself, but as we both know, my tea is not to everyone's taste."
Trinket responded with a single nod before returning to the hallway and making her way to the kitchen. After setting the kettle on the stove, she went to the kitchen dresser to select a simple black tea, though not the strong one that Booker was partial to. No one deserved to be subjected to that.
She turned back to the stove and started at finding Jewkes standing in the doorway, one of the unfamiliar officers behind him.
"Constable Jewkes," she said, giving a polite nod.
"Miss Trinket, correct?" Jewkes said.
"The tea will be ready shortly if you'd like to wait for it in the parlour."
"I'm not here about tea." He walked further into the kitchen, taking in the whitewashed walls and the brown dado. Running a finger over the table in the center of the room, he gave a gruff chuckle. "Not as elaborate as I would have expected from Booker Larkin."
Pulling out the tea set, Trinket placed it on the table and eyed Jewkes and the other officer warily. "Kitchens are not generally known for being overly decorated. Fire hazard."
"Yes, but you and I both know that Booker Larkin is not one to follow societal norms."
"Is there anything I can help you with, Constable?"
Jewkes leaned against the table and watched as she set tea strainers over the cups and scooped spoonfuls of leaves into each one. "You seem like a nice girl, Miss Trinket. I have to say, I was surprised to see you slumming around the morgue with Larkin. Even more surprised to see that you're still with him."
She held back a crude laugh. A nice girl. Nice girls were not sent to asylums. Nice girls did not attempt suicide. Nice girls did not attack their employers with knives in fits of terror. Then again, most girls didn't suffer from hallucinations on a daily basis, nice or not.
"I take it you've heard about the dead body found in the alley this morning?" Jewkes asked.
Gritting her teeth, she continued to silently prepare the tea.
"Strange to find the body of a complete stranger in such a small city. Not unheard of, but strange nonetheless. But that's not the unsettling part. What has us all out of sorts is the condition of the corpse's fingers. See, they aren't fingers. They're talons. Bird talons."
Trinket's gaze flickered from Jewkes to the officer hovering behind him. "Sounds a bit far-fetched."
"About as far-fetched as a wolf with metal teeth."
Stiffening, she returned her attention to the task at hand. "Is there a reason you're talking to me about this instead of Mr. Larkin?"
"All right, I'll cut to the chase." He leaned in closer, and she could smell cigarette smoke on his breath. "I know that Booker Larkin is more than capable of creating monstrosities. Up until now, all I've seen are mechanical abominations. But I wouldn't put it past him to attempt combining man with beast. And I certainly wouldn't put it past him to resort to murder in order to advance his supposed science. The question is, has he crossed that line already?"
Trinket tightened the lid on the jar of tea. He was asking the same question she had been trying to dismiss since finding that woman in the alley. No, even before then. Since she first started working for Booker. Mad brilliance like Booker's was precarious and fragile. How easily he could graduate from scientist to murderer.
The kettle began to whistle, and her attention was drawn to the stove. Grabbing a rag, she threw it over the handle before removing it from the burner. "Constable, I don't know what you expect from me," she said as she poured the steaming water over the leaves, not caring if she burnt them or not. "Mr. Larkin is my employer. I clean his house and make his tea. Whatever he does in his spare time is of no concern to me."
"I'm quite certain you're more than a housemaid to him, Miss Trinket. What sort of gentleman brings his housemaid to a morgue in the middle of the night?"
She met his eyes, her gaze cold and hard. "As you said, Booker Larkin is not one to follow societal norms."
His face fell slightly, but he was persistent. "I'm only looking out for your well-being, Miss Trinket. I hate to see a nice girl like you get mixed up in the horrors Larkin is involved with."
Setting the kettle back on the stove, she wiped her hands on her smock. "And who is to say I am a nice girl, Constable?"
Lifting his eyebrows in surprise, Jewkes straightened himself and cleared his throat, but he made no effort to interrogate her further.
"Now, if you both would excuse me," she said as she lifted the tray of tea things, "I don't want this tea to get cold."
Jewkes' brow furrowed. "Both?"
She froze for a heartbeat. Her eyes darted to the unknown officer beside him before she closed her eyes.
A hallucination.
"If you don't mind," she said as she opened her eyes and pushed past them. "Mr. Larkin despises cold tea."
Leaving behind a confused Jewkes, she drew in a deep breath and made her way down the hallway and into the parlour. The one other unfamiliar officer was still standing in the middle of the room, and it seemed as if he and Booker were in a staring match. She set the tray on the low table before the settee and folded her hands in front of her skirt as she stood to the side.
"Thank you, Trinket," Booker said. He eyed the extra tea things and stole a glance at her. However, rather than probe her about it, he picked up a cup and turned to the officer. "Tea?"
"We'll have to postpone the tea party, I'm afraid," Jewkes said as he walked into the room, the imaginary officer still following close behind. "We have a lot of work to do with this murder victim."
"Are you so certain it was murder?" asked Booker as he leaned back on the settee and sipped his tea.
"What makes you think it isn't?" Jewkes eyed him suspiciously. "Unless you have some sort of inside knowledge about her death?"
Placing his teacup on its saucer with a soft clink, Booker gave Jewkes a calm smile. "I'm just saying that in a city where folks sport mechanical limbs and mutant wolves roam the streets, you might want to be a little more open-minded in your investigations."
With a sneer, Jewkes leaned in close and narrowed his eyes. "You're damning yourself, Larkin. Best watch that tongue of yours."
Despite the officer's close proximity and threatening tone, Booker maintained his reserved expression. "Oh, I'm not too worried about you, Jewkes. After all, we all have skeletons in our closets, don't we? Or, for some, in their ovens."
Jewkes paled, and his eyes widened in horror. He looked over at the officer still in the room, but he hadn't caught on to Booker's innuendo. Clearing his throat, Jewkes rose and nodded sharply towards the door.
"Come on, we've wasted enough time here," he said as he stormed out of the house.
Both the real officer and the imagined one followed him out the door, slamming it behind them. Letting out a long breath, Trinket turned to Booker, finding that his mocking expression had changed to genuine concern.
"There was an extra cup," he said.
She nodded.
He motioned for her to sit beside him, and she obliged. "So it was a person this time? Not just an animal?"
"Yes. It doesn't happen often, but on occasion I do see people."
"Jewkes didn't—"
She shook her head. "I nearly slipped up, but I managed to rectify my words. Besides, he was more interested in trying to get me to incriminate you."
"And what did you tell him?"
"That I was simply your housemaid."
Chuckling, Booker picked up his cup again and took a sip. "So you lied to him."
"Not entirely. I am in fact your housemaid, Mr. Larkin."
"You are so much more than a housemaid, my dear."
"He thinks you may be the murderer."
Booker paused and turned his attention away from the fireplace across the room to focus on her. "But I'm not."
"Doesn't matter. You're the only mad scientist in the city. They're going to blame you."
He grinned. "Mad scientist? Do I seem mad to you?"
"Well, like recognizes like."
His expression softened, and his eyes wandered back and forth as he gazed at her. The intensity of his stare made her heart beat faster. "We are quite a pair, aren't we?" he said.
"Indeed. Although, I apparently have folks fooled much better than you do. Jewkes thinks I'm a nice girl."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. He worries you'll corrupt me."
Laughing softly, Booker looked down at his tea. "I sometimes wonder if it won't be you who does the corrupting."
"Pardon?"
Returning his cup to the tray, he rose to his feet. "It seems I won't be able to blackmail my way into the morgue this time around," he said, quickly changing the subject. "Too many other officers involved who don't impregnate their mistresses and run to me in search of a speedy abortion."
"So what is your next move?"
He tugged at his lapels and gave her a crooked grin. "We wait for the next victim to surface."
A pit settled in her gut at the mention of another victim. "You're so certain there will be a second?"
"Oh, I can guarantee it. The Wolf was to catch my attention. This dead woman is to signal a new game. Now we just have to wait and see what more our game master has in store."