[sylvanSpider]

Simon adjusted his collar, stepping into the now late afternoon sunlight. It was likely that she'd become active now; he had to deliver an order to the law enforcement regarding a curfew, then it was back to William Shaw's board—he had to inquire on questions he already knew the answer to. Had William Shaw returned at some point in the day as he was occupied. Of course not. But, he had to be sure.

There was still the fact that Mrs. Thomas's body was still available for inspection; it was indeed an option it having still not been delivered to the mortician's from the coroner's. It wasn't necessary, however, and Simon needed to get his priorities straight. The first, finding Mr. William Shaw, seemed to be a moot point. He already knew in what state he'd find him in, and it was at a stand still. He'd need to catch Ms. Ward unaware, in the act, meaning he'd have to narrow down a target that Miss Ward would likely be after.

So, what did he know about the two targets he'd seen? Both persons seemed to be of around the same age range. Children and the elderly could then be marked off as the least likely candidates. One male and one female, though the male he couldn't necessarily pin on her...yet. Then, focusing on the one certain victim of a vampire—Mrs. Thomas. She was young and, though one wouldn't be able to tell by her remains, once very beautiful. Given Mr. Shaw's age, one could assume that his wife was of a similar age—a potential target? Could Shaw's fiance possibly be the next victim?

It seemed there was suddenly a shift in priorities.

=-=-=

Rosamund lay, pale and beautiful, still and growing cold. She was now nothing more than an empty shell of what was once a bright, vibrant, and loyal soul. There kneeling by her side, clasping both of Rosamund's lifeless hands, was Miss Emily Barker, her gracious and kind mistress. Still very full of life, but equally with misery. Sobs heaved in the living's breast, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Rosamund...how dare you go before me...How dare you...” And poison? It made no sense. Rosamund had no enemies, treating even the lowest with kindness and generosity. She was a true, upstanding Christian woman. Who would do such a thing to her? Surely not the sweet woman selling apples? She'd purchased fruits from her countless times before and yet...

Knock, knock, knock

“Miss Barker, are you inside? Police here,” the voice behind the noises said.

“It's open,” the haggard woman croaked.

A man in uniform appeared in the doorway, but Emily stayed where she was, clasping onto Rosamund's hands as if her own warmth could somehow keep Rosamund from the impending rigor mortis. His hand found a place at the base of her neck and Emily looked up with red tear-stained eyes to the officer, “Miss Barker, we need to ask you a few questions.”

Emily nodded, dumbly, willing to answer any questions if it meant more answers for herself.

“First. Can you tell me about Rosamund's last day. Where was she and who was she with?”

“Me. All day. We...we had a late breakfast, and then we went to the town to purchase a gift for my husband-to-be...”