The Experimental Murders (Elysium #2)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

 It only took one day of bed rest for Booker to become absolutely restless. Since he had regained some of his strength, Trinket relented and let him sit in the parlour, but she insisted that he not return to the laboratory for at least another day. Though he protested at first, he eventually agreed.

Seeing him in his normal attire made it seem as if he were back to himself. He settled onto the settee, and Trinket fetched him several books from the library, although she wished he would wait before he dove back into his work. This time he was reading up on aquatic life, and Daphne gave a slight laugh when she noticed him studying a diagram of gills.

"What?" he said. "I'm merely interested in the complexities of the organ. Do you realize how much concentration must have gone into attaching them so that they could still function? It's brilliant, really."

The bell at the front door rang. "Yes, yes, you and your friend are unappreciated geniuses," Trinket said as she collected his teacup and saucer and went to answer the door. "Though I can't say there's much use for gills on a human."

"If done right, they could be very useful," Booker called back.

Gin was at the door, and though she wore her typical smug grin, Trinket detected a hint of worry behind her amber eyes. "Figured you lot were busy with that fish woman," she said. "But it'd been a while since I heard from you, so I thought I'd check up to make sure she wasn't some loon who tried to kill you or something."

"No, we're quite alive," Trinket said, stepping aside to allow her to come inside. "However, things have been a tad chaotic."

"When are things not chaotic around here?" Gin stopped in the doorway of the parlour when she saw Booker sitting on the settee. Her shoulders relaxed, and her smile grew more affectionate. "Lounging about in the middle of the day? Never thought I'd see you wasting time above ground."

"Ah, Gin," Booker said as he closed his book and tossed it onto the table. "I've been meaning to thank you again. You have no idea how appreciative I am. I don't know what I would do without you."

She waved away his thanks, but her face was glowing. "All in a day's work. So what happened to her? She croak on you?"

"Actually—"

Before he could finish his thought, Daphne came in through the dining room with a tray of freshly made scones. Gin's eyes widened as she took in the portable aquariums on either side of her neck. Her eyes darted from the woman to Booker several times before resting on him and the teasing smile he was sporting.

"So clearly I missed something exciting," she said.

Laughing, Booker patted the spot beside him. "Sit a spell and I'll catch you up."

He explained everything that had happened after she left Daphne with them—everything but his drug withdrawal and the weakened state he was still in. Even without this knowledge, though, it was obvious Gin could tell something was amiss. She kept eyeing Booker suspiciously when he would look away, as if trying to pick up on what was out of place about him.

"I must say, I am growing rather fond of her cooking," Booker said as he bit into a scone.

Gin turned to Trinket who was sitting in the armchair. "This mean you're out of a job?"

"As you well know, I never excelled in culinary arts," Trinket said.

"Trinket's the one who hired her," Booker said. "Besides, this means she has more time at her disposal to help me track down corpses and attend card games."

"Mind you, I'm still resolved to act as a housemaid," Trinket said. "Daphne is an excellent cook, and she's certainly lent a hand in the house cleaning, but I don't think it's fair to expect her to do all the work around here. While my cooking skills leave much to be desired, I feel my cleaning is passable."