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The air within the castle's stone walls was warmer than outside, to Finn at least. But an icy draft that felt musty could be felt, fighting against that warmth, an ancient chill that seemed to cling to the crevices of the mottled gray blocks. Finn could feel the weight of what had happened there during the night pressing against him as he and Amelia Winters crossed the threshold, their footsteps resounding with a hollow echo in the grand entrance hall.
"Inspector Wright, Detective Winters," came a crisp voice from the shadow of the grand staircase. Inspector Wilson emerged, the lines on his face drawn tight, some of them disappearing beneath his thick, graying mustache.
"Wilson," Finn acknowledged with a nod, his gaze scanning the vast space, as if expecting the secrets of the castle to leap from the ornate cornices.
"The bodies have been taken away," Wilson said, clasping his hands behind his back. "They're en route to the morgue. Autopsy scheduled immediately, though we may still have a bit of a wait."
"Any preliminary findings during the initial investigation to add to what we already know?" Amelia asked, her voice betraying nothing of the unease that such grandeur mixed with death often stirred.
"Nothing conclusive yet. It's..." Wilson paused, searching for the right words, "...messy."
Finn's jaw tightened. He had seen 'messy' before, the kind of chaotic aftermath that told stories of struggle and desperation.
"Seems this place has seen its fair share of history. Now it's got a bit more," Finn said, eyes lingering on a portrait - one of only a few left on the walls - where past owners of a long-gone era looked down with austere disapproval.
"Indeed," Wilson replied. "Any luck outside?"
Amelia stepped beside Finn, her gaze following his. "We think we found some tracks outside leading to woodland, and then some impressions that look like someone drove a car back there."
"And I bet they weren't sightseeing," Finn muttered, turning back to Wilson.
"I'll have someone take care of that for you," Wilson interjected, "I wonder if the killer acted alone."
“Vilne manipulates,” Finn said. “He gets people to do some of his dirty work through blackmail and other means, but when it comes to the actual killing, he does that himself. That's the part he lives for.”
"If it was him," Amelia said firmly. "We need to keep our minds open."
Finn sighed.
"Understood," Wilson acknowledged with respect in his tone. “Is there anything else you need from me here?”
“We were wanting to talk with whoever found the bodies,” Finn said, putting aside his mild annoyance that Amelia kept fighting his theory about Vilne.
“Not a problem,” Wilson said. “It was the caretaker. Let me introduce you to him, he's still here.”
“Lead on, Sir,” Amelia said, then blushing.
“You're in charge here, Amelia,” Wilson smiled, kindly.
“Sorry, force of habit,” Amelia said, continuing on.
“You never callmeSir,” Finn said, walking alongside her.
“You'd have to be a gentleman, first,” Amelia answered.
“I'll have you know I am down with the etiquette,” Finn said, opening a door and holding it for Amelia. “Hah! See?”
“There's more to being a gentleman than holding doors open,” Amelia laughed. “Besides, I like to open them for myself. It is the 21stcentury.”
Wilson let out a loud laugh. “Haven't changed a bit, Amelia. Give them hell, and don't let them forget it.”
“She gives me hell every day,”Finn replied.
“And would you have it any other way?” Amelia asked as they rounded a corner.
Finn didn't answer. He just smiled at her. No, he wouldn't have had it any other way.
“Through these doors,” Wilson now added, the joviality now replaced by a clear tone of professionalism.
