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Casting a glance down the corridor, Amelia decided to wander through the house in search of Finn. The air was cool, filled with the mingling scents of old books, polished wood, and something else; the unmistakable aroma of freshly cooked breakfast.
Following the delicious scent, Amelia reached the kitchen to find Finn, engaged in a jovial conversation with Frederick. Finn's eyes lit up when he saw her, his mouth curving into a teasing grin. "Hope you slept well, Amelia. No sleepwalking mishaps, I hope?"
Amelia shot him a knowing look, fully aware he was referencing their nighttime adventure, but she chose not to indulge him. Instead, she responded with a simple, "Morning, Finn. Morning, Frederick."
Frederick, ever the gracious host, turned to her, his tone warm. "Good morning, Inspector. Would you care for a full Scottish breakfast?"
Her stomach growled in response before she could even muster an answer, which drew a chuckle from both men. "I'll take that as a yes," Frederick said, turning his attention back to the sizzling pans on the stove.
Leaning closer to Finn, Amelia dropped her voice to a whisper, the weight of their investigation pressing on her. "Have you spoken to Frederick about what Nathaniel mentioned?"
Finn shook his head subtly. "No, not yet."
Seizing the opportunity, Amelia turned her attention back to the butler. "Frederick, do you know much about Ivar Ward knowing Lord Carmichael?"
Frederick seemed to ponder for a moment, then responded, "Only bits and pieces, really. There have been so many rumors, especially concerning Ivar Ward and Lord Carmichael being involved in something. But a lot of it is just empty island talk."
Amelia's brow furrowed. "Do you believe they knew each other well?"
Frederick turned, pausing for a moment, his expression contemplative. "There's been a lot of talk, Inspector. Last night at the pub, I did here a few conversations about how Ivar Ward was linked with Lord Carmichael when his Lordship was still on the mainland, but I was more interested in my single malt."
Finn leaned in, his analytical mind clearly at work. "Could their connection have been related to Lord Carmichael's plan to develop the island?"
A faint smile tugged at the edges of Frederick's lips. "That's the buzz at The Fair Folk Inn. It felt like every patron had a theory. But what I found most intriguing was the idea that Ivar Ward, known for his deep superstitions, might've come to the island post Lord Carmichael's demise to meet another involved party. And that this third party might've silenced him."
“That's a lot of might'ves,” Finn said, eating the last of his breakfast.
Amelia's interest piqued. "Who was discussing this?"
Frederick shrugged. "There was so much chatter, it's hard to pinpoint. But I think you'll find more answers if you head back to The Fair Folk Inn. I believe some of the fishermen were talking most since Ivar was a fellow fisherman, and they always feel it when one of them passes away."
“We'll need to see if Kirsty is available to drive us around the island again,” Finn said. “Otherwise, we'll need to borrow a car."
Just then, Frederick placed a plate in front of Amelia, heaped with an array of mouthwatering breakfast items. Amelia could hardly resist digging in, but she knew there was work to be done. The inn, with its rumor-mongering patrons, awaited.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The morning sun hurt Finn's tired eyes as it cast a golden glow on the facade of Huldra House, and the residual storm clouds retreated, painting a serene backdrop against the azure skies. Finn stepped out, squinting against the bright light, with Amelia by his side. They had not been standing there for long when a car's soft rumble grew nearer. Rounding the bend, a familiar figure—Kirsty, her wavy hair catching the sun—stopped before them.
"Morning, Inspector, Mr Wright," she greeted, rolling down her window. "Frederick thought you might need a drive into Huldra town."
Finn offered a grateful smile. "Much appreciated, Kirsty."
The journey commenced, and the car weaved through the winding roads that cut across the expansive moors. Wildflowers danced to the rhythm of the passing breeze, and from the lush green stretches, the distant hills rolled into view.
Lost in the moving tapestry outside, Finn's thoughts trailed back to the stormy night before. "You know, Amelia," he began, his voice thoughtful, "I thought I saw a light out on the moors during the storm."
Amelia turned her head, curiosity evident. "A light? Out there?"
Nodding, Finn continued, "A pinpoint of bright light, almost orb-like. It was fleeting. And then... nothing. I figured I might've just been seeing things, given how tired I was."
Kirsty, her attention divided between the road and their conversation, perked up. "What did this light look like?"
"It was gone in a flash, like I said," Finn elaborated, "just a bright dot that vanished as quickly as it appeared."
Kirsty's grip tightened slightly on the wheel. "Sounds like you might've seen a will o' the wisp."
Finn frowned, unfamiliar with the term. "A what now?"
