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"Please," Finn said, grateful for her cooperation.
The receptionist relayed the information, and Finn quickly jotted it down before ending the call. He glanced over at Amelia, who was expertly navigating through the congested traffic.
"Horace Velace is at a building site nearby," he told her, sharing the address. "77 Greenfield Street. Let's head there."
"If your my assistant, can I place a coffee order?" Amelia said. "And be quick about it, sweet cheeks."
"Careful how you treat me," Finn said. "I might unionize."
"Got it," Amelia responded, adjusting their course after putting the address into her GPS.
Within minutes, they arrived at the towering structure, steel beams and concrete forming an imposing silhouette against the sky. Construction workers bustled about, the cacophony of machinery and shouted instructions filling the air.
Finn and Amelia stepped out of the car, scanning the area for someone who could help them. Spotting a worker nearby, they approached him with purpose.
"Excuse me," Finn called out, raising his voice to be heard over the din. "We're looking for Horace Velace. Can you tell us where we can find him?"
"Horace?" The worker wiped his brow, squinting up at the unfinished building. "He's up on the top floor, overseeing some of the construction."
"Could you take us to him?" Amelia asked politely, her demeanor as charming as ever.
"Sure thing," the worker agreed, leading them to a rickety worker's elevator. "This'll take you straight to the top."
As they stepped onto the platform, Finn felt his heart rate pick up ever so slightly. He'd never been particularly fond of heights, and the exposed nature of the elevator did little to assuage his nerves.
"Never pegged you as the type to be scared of heights," Amelia teased, smirking as she noticed Finn's white-knuckled grip on the railing.
"Can't say I'm a fan," he admitted, trying to keep his discomfort in check. In response, Amelia playfully shook the elevator, eliciting a sharp glare from Finn.
"Very funny," he grumbled, forcing a smile. "I'll remember that the next time we're in a tight spot."
"If it is in an elevator, I'll be on my own," Amelia winked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
As the elevator ascended, Finn couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation as they climbed higher and higher.
Upon reaching the top floor, Finn and Amelia stepped off the elevator and onto a large concrete platform. The wind whipped at their clothes and hair as they took in the expansive view of Sandhaven below. Construction workers bustled around them, the cacophony of drilling, hammering, and shouting filling the air.
"Horace Velace?" Finn called out, scanning the area for any sign of the man they sought. A figure detached itself from a group of workers, walking towards them with an uneasy gait. As he came closer, they could see that Horace was a middle-aged man, his once-black hair now peppered with gray. His face was lined and gaunt, bearing the marks of someone who had spent years battling stress and exhaustion. He wore a hard hat and a reflective orange vest like the other workers, but it did little to conceal the tension in his hunched shoulders.
"Can I help you?" Horace asked, eyeing Finn and Amelia warily.
"Mr. Velace, we're investigating some incidents involving the old tunnels beneath the St Martins Castle," Finn explained, trying to appear nonthreatening. "We've reason to believe you might know something about them."
"Who are you two?" Horace questioned, his voice quivering ever so slightly.
"Amelia Winters, Hertfordshire Constabulary," Amelia introduced herself, flashing her badge. "And this is Finn Wright, assisting me on the case."
"Assisting?" Horace repeated, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"Long story," Finn interjected, not wanting to delve into the details of his suspension. "The point is, we really need your help."
"Wait... You... You're the American that's been in the news solving murder cases," the man said, looking frightened at the realization.
"Not single-handedly," Amelia offered. "But Mr Velace, we know you worked on some serious renovations of the castle some fifteen years ago. It's hard to believe that you know nothing of the tunnels underneath the castle. In fact, we wondered if it was your company that either dug or reopened them?"
Horace glanced around nervously, as if expecting someone to be watching them. "I don't know what you're talking about," he insisted, but his voice betrayed him – it was barely more than a whisper.
"Listen, Mr. Velace," Amelia said gently, "we're not here to cause trouble for you. We just want to understand what's going on with these tunnels. We know it's connected to elite families around the area. How many of them have you worked for?"
