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"Did he do anythingunusual?" Amelia added, her notepad ready.
"Just stood there, lookin' atthe trains. Then walked off toward the station, quiet as a cat on theprowl."
"Thank you, Thomas," Finnsaid. "You look cold, can we get you a tea or something?"
“That would be nice,” he replied.
Finn nodded to a younger constablewho was standing nearby. She quickly disappeared and then, a few minutes later,arrived with a hot tea for Thomas.
He sipped it slowly. “Ah hits thespot.”
"Thomas," Finn started."You mentioned seeing this figure more than once?"
"Right as rain, Detective.Always by the old spots, like the derelict theater off Milton Street. I reckonhe fancies them places, or somethin' in 'em."
"Always with the book?"Amelia asked, her pen poised over her notebook.
"Every time. Clutched to hischest, like a miser with his last coin."
"Could you describe thebook?" Finn leaned in, his mind piecing together fragments of information.
"Old-looking, like somethingout of Dickens," Thomas recalled, eyes narrowing in concentration."Leather cover, I think. Thick as a brick and just as heavy, I'dwager."
"Anything else about him thatstood out?" Finn asked.
"His walk," Thomas saidafter a moment's reflection. "Steady, like with purpose. Like he'd walkthrough walls to get things done."
"Thank you, Thomas. This isvery helpful," Amelia assured him, closing her notepad. "You've donea good service today."
"Hope it does some good,"Thomas muttered, staring down into his tea.
“Thomas, the constable here cantake you to a shelter, if that would be convenient?” Finn said, his heartgoing out to the man.
“Thank you, my friend,” the mansmiled. “Yer a good one.”
As the homeless man was escorted towhere he could rest out of the elements for the night, Finn turned to Amelia, afurrow etching deep into his brow.
"Let's review the footagearound those buildings Thomas mentioned," Amelia suggested, flippingthrough her notes. "Maybe our shadow has been caught on camera."
"Good idea," Finn agreed,standing up. "We're onto something, Amelia. I can feel it. I think hemoves around here."
A forensics team member approachedFinn and Amelia, a sense of urgency in their demeanor.
"Inspector," the womanbegan, holding up a clear evidence bag containing a small card with afingerprint. "We got a match on the print found on the antique gun."
Finn's gaze sharpened. "Whoseprint is it?"
The forensics member hesitated fora moment before replying, "A woman named Maggie Beckett. The database infoshould be with you now."
Amelia's fingers flew over herphone screen as she swiftly accessed information. Her brow furrowed inconcentration before she spoke up. "I have the address. Maggie Beckettlives above her antiques store on Elmwood Street."
“I want the security footage fromany local cameras,” Finn said, turning to the forensics expert. “Send it to uswhen you have it. I want to see if our killer has been using these train linesto get about.”
“Will do.”
“As for us,” Amelia said, turningto Finn. “We are about to go to another antiques store, aren’t we?”
“I promise I won’t let thatdistract me this time,” Finn grinned.
