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“Consulting Detective, Finn Wright, at your service,” Finn said in a theatrical voice to the constables. “Ably assisted by Inspector Amelia Winters.”
Amelia showed her badge. “It's the other way around.”
"Ah, the life of a ridiculously famous detective," Finn quipped again, his tone playful. The constables exchanged amused glances, clearly taken aback by Finn's candor.
"Are you always like this?" one asked in a strong London accent, cracking a smile.
"Only on days ending in 'y,'" Finn replied, grinning as Amelia shook her head in mock disapproval.
With a nod from the constables, Finn and Amelia stepped under the police tape and continued up to a large wooden doorway that was open.
“Do you have to embarrass us wherever we go?” Amelia asked once out of earshot.
“It's the only thing that gets me through the day,” Finn said.
“I actually believe that,” said Amelia.
“After you,” Finn said, waving his hand towards the doorway.
Upon crossing the threshold, they were met with an unusual sight: the ancient structure boasted a modern, almost gaudy interior, a stark departure from its medieval exterior. Plush velvet furniture and gleaming metal accents stood out against worn stone walls, while abstract art adorned the towering ceilings.
"Seems like our American friends have been busy," Amelia murmured, her eyes taking in the unexpected decor.
Before Finn could respond, a season figure appeared before them: Dressed in a dark blue suit and wearing a green winter coat, the man had kind eyes and a weathered face that spoke of years spent on the force. Amelia's face lit up at the sight of him.
“Inspector Wilson!” She said, shaking his hand enthusiastically.
Finn was surprised to see Amelia so animated.
“Amelia, lovely to see you,” he said from behind a thick mustache. “I've been following your recent appearances in the papers with interest.”
"Inspector Wilson trained me back when I was just getting started," she explained, a note of fondness in her voice. "He's one of the best."
"Let's not get carried away, Amelia," Wilson said modestly, though the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Come with me, I'll show you where we found the bodies."
“Straight to the point,” Finn said. “A man after my own heart.”
“Yes, Quite, Mr Wright,” Inspector Wilson said. “I have enjoyed your exploits as well. Unconventional. And that's what this country needs. The unconventional. People thinking out of the box.”
“Thank you,” Finn replied. “And may I say you have a magnificent mustache.”
Inspector Wilson looked at Finn oddly.
“Like you said, Inspector, Wilson,” Amelia laughed. “Finn is a bit... Unconventional.”
“This way.”
As they followed Wilson through the castle's labyrinthine corridors, Finn couldn't help but marvel at the peculiar fusion of old and new that surrounded them. It was as if the very fabric of Hemworth Castle were being torn between two worlds, and in the middle, two people were dead.
The library-study, when they reached it, was a somber space cloaked in shadows. Two lifeless figures lay on the floor, their eyes still open, gazing upward at nothingness.
"This is Lily and Thomas Richmond," Inspector Wilson said, his voice heavy with the weight of the tragedy before them. "Compatriots of yours, Mr Wright. They moved here a few months ago and were in the process of turning Hemsworth into Richmond Castle."
“I doubt that work will be finished,” Finn thought out loud.
Finn's gaze settled on the two bodies while Amelia observed the victims, keenly. He pulled a pair of blue forensic gloves from his pocket, snapping them on with practiced ease, and crouched down next to Lily's body, examining the fatal wound at the back of her head. "She was struck with some force," he said, looking up at Amelia and Wilson. "The skull has caved in."
“Looks like the stab wounds would have been unnecessary to get the job done,” Amelia said, pointing out wounds to Lily Richmond's side. “That could imply a rage-kill or someone with a personal vendetta against her.”
