Trinket and Booker stayed up all night discussing how best to continue their hunt for the Wolf. After much deliberation, they both came to the conclusion that, rather than try to capture the beast, they should simply track it and find out where it disappeared to during the day. If they could discover its hiding spot, perhaps they could figure out a more effective way to lure it into their possession.

"It's going to require some late-night excursions," Booker said as they sat in the parlour reviewing the map of Wolf sightings Ruth had made.

"How is that any different from our current situation?"

His mouth quirked into a crooked grin. "So tell me, how did you enjoy the game night?"

The memory of the Ape Man walking through the door flashed through her mind, and she clutched her teacup tightly. "It was eye-opening."

"Mm, right, that was your first face-to-face encounter with the Mice, wasn't it?"

"I suppose. Although, I've had plenty of encounters with their newest member."

She swallowed hard and stared down at her cup, seeing the Ape Man's vicious sneer reflected back at her in the tea.

"I lost my job because of you. Clarence, too."

A shiver ran through her body, and she took a sharp breath, the Lipstick Woman's words echoing in her head. What if the Ape Man was just as eager to get vengeance on her as his companion had been? Was she still in danger of being dragged back to Elysium?

No. Not with him. With him, revenge would most likely take the form of physical abuse. Although, she wasn't sure whether that was better or worse than the asylum.

"Trinket?"

Booker's voice brought her back to the present. Blinking away her panic, she forced a smile. "Sorry. My mind wandered off for a moment."

Setting the map aside, Booker leaned forward in his armchair and furrowed his brow. "Did he say something to you tonight?"

"Who?"

"That fellow from the asylum. The large one who looks like a balding ape."

Her lips twitched at his apt description. "No, he didn't. I managed to stay out of his way."

Booker drummed his fingers against his knee, staring at her thoughtfully. "He lost his job because you escaped, didn't he?"

Stomach sinking, she nodded. "Yes, he did. Both he and the woman the Wolf killed."

He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "He doesn't seem all that bright, does he?"

"What he lacks in brains he makes up for in brawn."

"Yes, but no amount of strength is any match for a brilliant mind like mine."

She drew her brows together and watched Booker carefully as he resumed his study of the map. Was he trying to make her feel better about the Ape Man still being in Tinkerfall? Could he tell she was worried about him being so nearby?

She gave her head a quick shake and took another sip of tea. No, that was ridiculous. Booker Larkin wasn't the type to concern himself with the feelings of others.

"So, shall we begin our search tomorrow night?" he asked, his eyes still on the map.

A rush of excitement surged through her veins, replacing the fear and worry. "Yes. Tomorrow night."

~

The following morning, after a few meager hours of sleep, Trinket made her way downstairs to start breakfast. Booker was just coming in through the front door as she reached the last step.

"Good morning, my dear," he said with a cheerful smile.

She eyed him suspiciously as he hung up his coat and hat. "You went out?"

"Yes, some business to take care of. Are you making crumpets?"

"I can."

He rubbed his hands together. "Splendid. I'll be right down. I just need to freshen up."

She frowned as he trotted up the stairs with more energy than he should have had considering how late they both were up the night before. Blowing a strand of hair out of her face, she turned to continue on down the hallway and nearly tripped over her own feet as a squealing pig darted in front of her.

"Good Lord," she gasped, gripping the railing and staring after the mud-covered beast now barreling through the parlour.

The voices cackled at the ridiculous scene, and she clenched her teeth and closed her eyes in an effort to ignore them. The pig in the other room continued to squeal and grunt, but she forced the noise out of her mind and headed to the kitchen.

By the time Booker joined her, the laughter had faded into a barely noticeable hum in the back of her head. He peeked over her shoulder and took a deep breath.

"Oh I do love the smell of toasting crumpets," he said.

She glanced up at him. "Why don't you wait in the dining room like a normal master of the house?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "What about me makes you think I'm at all normal?"

"Fair point."

He made his way to the table and helped himself to a slice of some bread she'd set out. "I have high hopes for tonight."

"Hope that we'll find the Wolf or hope that we'll catch it?"

Before he could reply, the bell at the front door rang. She removed the kettle and crumpets before hurrying into the hallway to answer it, Booker right on her heels.

It was Gin.

"Good morning," Trinket said.

"Trouble, Gin?" Booker asked.

The urchin frowned. "Why do you always assume there's trouble when I turn up at your door?"

"I assume there's trouble when most anyone turns up at my door."

"Well, yeah, trouble of a sort, but more news than anything."

"Come in," Trinket said, stepping aside to let her enter.

They headed into the parlour, and Booker motioned to the settee. "Care to stay for breakfast? We were just about to sit down to some crumpets."

"No, I have a few appointments today," Gin said, not even bothering to take a seat.

Booker flopped onto the settee himself, stretching his arms out and placing them behind his head. "I'm guessing your news has something to do with last night and the Mice?"

"Not sure if it's connected to last night, but the Mice are definitely involved. Police found another body this morning. Looked the same as the other two."

"Of course. I expected as much. Who was it?"

"Delmar Hempel."

His brow furrowed. "Delmar? Why in heavens would they kill Delmar?"

Gin shrugged. "From what I hear, his debts to the Mice were all paid up. Seems a little late in the game to be taking this sort of action, but then again, they are the Mice. Don't really need an excuse to be awful."

Booker leaned forward, tenting his fingers and touching them to his lips. "Could be an act of desperation."

"Desperation?" Gin repeated.

His face lit up. "This is exactly what I was hoping for."

"If you wanna know more, the coppers were just talking to Vern. Might be able to catch him before he leaves."

Booker's gaze slid to Trinket, and his lips slowly turned up into a smile. "Care for a stroll, my dear?"

~

Gin hurried off to her appointments as Booker and Trinket quickly donned their coats. Tossing aside her apron, Trinket tugged on her gloves while Booker helped her into her coat.

"You were right," she sighed as she buttoned herself up.

"I'm so often right, you'll need to be a tad more specific."

"You are not normal."

He grinned and took her arm, linking it with his own and pulling her out the door.

They made their way to the station at a good pace, and as they rounded the corner, Vern was just stepping outside. He stopped at the curb, seeming lost and unsure of where to go.

"Vern, old chap, glad I caught you," Booker called out.

The man turned to him with a grunt of surprise. His face was old despite a lack of grey hair or wrinkled skin. The red in his eyes suggested he had been crying, but when he let out a long sigh, the stink on his breath said otherwise.

"You heard?" he asked, his voice too youthful for the age of his features.

"I did. My deepest condolences," Booker said, feigning compassion like a master.

"I just don't understand. Our debts were all paid up. We hadn't even had a chance to rack up anymore."

"Is it possible Delmar had accumulated debts of his own?"

"Maybe, but that wouldn't be like him. He'd've come to me first if he needed money. Always did."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"At the game last night. We played for a few hours, and then Delmar started feeling a little frisky, if you catch my drift." He glanced at Trinket. "Sorry, miss."

She gave a strained smile.

"Anyhow, he was feeling frisky, so he said he was going out to plant some seeds and that he'd make his way home later. I was awful tired myself, so I went straight home and fell asleep."

She doubted it was sleep that took him considering how he reeked of booze.

"So then I wakes up this morning and call out for him but can't find him anywhere. I go out to look for him, and there he is, dead on the doorstep."

"Is he still on your doorstep?" Booker asked.

She elbowed him in the side, hoping to reel in that inappropriate enthusiasm.

"Nah, coppers took him away," Vern said.

Booker's attention flickered to the station momentarily before returning to the drunkard. "I am so very sorry for your loss, Vern. We'd like to pay our respects to your dear brother if that's all right."

Taking Booker's hand in his own, Vern gave it a few hearty pats. "Oh, bless you, sir, bless you!"

He turned back towards the station, and they followed after him.

"You're quite the actor," Trinket whispered to Booker as Vern knocked on the back door.

"One of the best," he responded with an impish grin.

Jewkes practically groaned when he opened the door. "Again? Could you not be involved with a dead body just once, Larkin?"

"Constable Jewkes, these good, wonderful people would like to pay their respects to my deceased brother," Vern said, clutching his chest emotionally.

Jewkes glared at Booker from over Vern's shoulder. "Isn't that what funerals are for?"

Booker took an unwilling Jewkes aside and glanced back at Vern before whispering, "Do you really think he has the means for a funeral?"

"About as much as I think you're actually here to pay your respects."

"The man just lost his brother, Jewkes. Throw him a bone."

The fury in the officer's eyes could have set the place ablaze. Nevertheless, with his face twisted into some ungodly combination of a scowl and a smile, he addressed Vern. "Right this way, Mr. Hempel."

He led them down to the ice-cold mortuary, and as they wove their way around the covered bodies, Trinket's gaze wandered to the table where she knew the Lipstick Woman laid.

"They don't want a nurse who let a killer get away."

Taking a deep breath, she forced the wicked orderly's voice out of her head and focused on the task at hand. She didn't have time to be distracted by her past sins. She had an important job to do. Booker was depending on her.

Killer, killer, killer, killer.

Jewkes brought them to the very back of the room to a table that held an uncovered body. Narrowing his eyes at Booker, he stepped aside and motioned to the corpse. "Take your time."

Booker flashed Trinket a quick smile and then nodded towards the body.

Knowing that to be her cue, she quickly began to assess the dead man. He was identical to his brother. The same greasy brown hair and leathery tanned skin. Even the same bloodshot blue eyes. Perhaps they were twins?

"My dear, sweet Delmar," Vern said, taking off his hat and placing it over his chest.

Booker followed suit, and she lowered her eyes just enough so as to seem to be paying respects while still examining the corpse.

"The fine Mr. Larkin is here to say his goodbyes," Vern went on. "Remember him? He's the doctor what got your . . . well, you know . . . out of that mousetrap."

Cuts. All over his body. More jagged than before. But still a bit too precise.

"And he brought a pretty lady with him. You'd like her. I know how much you like pretty ladies."

Her face flushed, and her concentration wavered as Booker bit his lip, clearly fighting back a grin.

Jewkes crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, heaving an impatient sigh.

Clearing his throat, Booker stepped forward. "My dear Delmar, you were a man among men."

She squeezed her eyes shut. Focus. The wrists. Did they have the same red marks as the other victims?

"Not a soul could match your love for ale or your love for pretty ladies."

Her gaze flickered to Booker, and he gave her a teasing wink. Why was he distracting her when he had brought her here to look for clues? Lord, he was impossible.

"The laughs we shared shall never be forgotten," he continued, attempting a more somber expression. "Although, I do apologize for laughing at your dilemma when you came to me that night. Truly, I do."

"No worries, Doctor," Vern said. "If it hadn't been him, Delmar would've been laughing, too."

Wrists, the wrists. Ah, there. Not quite as noticeable, but still, there were slight indentations around each wrist. Like they'd been very carefully bound with rope.

"I pray your spirit finds peace," Booker concluded. "And that your sensitive members never see another mousetrap."

Vern dabbed at his eyes with his filthy shirt sleeve as Booker lowered his head and crossed his hand over his chest in the customary gesture of respect shown towards the dead. Her assessment complete, Trinket did the same.

"You're a fine man, Mr. Larkin," Vern said, clapping Booker on the shoulder.

Booker patted him on the back. "Thank you for allowing me to see him. May you find comfort in the coming days, my dear sir."

"Bless you, bless you, Mr. Larkin. Bless you and your pretty lady."

With one more sympathetic smile, Booker turned to Jewkes and flashed a triumphant grin. "And thank you, Constable. Bless you for your noble work!"

Trinket was sure she saw a vein popping out of Jewkes' temple. He pushed himself away from the wall, but before he could take a step forward, Booker tugged her back towards the entrance and hurried up the stairs and out of the station. The excitement was practically perspiring off of him as he gripped her hand tightly.