The Seal King Murders by Alanna Knight

settlement of Norse invaders. It was at this same place where, many centuries later, Scarthbreck had arisen, built on a long-lostburial ground. And in more recent history, the unidentified body of a man was found lying near the entrance.
    And Faro wondered if all his answers lay not with Thora Claydon, but within the scene of his mother’s temporary summer employment.
    His second visit to Thora Claydon promised success, but the woman who opened the door was a surprise. Small and pretty still, rather than the older, more harassed woman he had envisaged. Nor was there any evidence of widow’s weeds, although this was not strictly Orcadian tradition, where everyday dress was black – a practical matter, since in large families the infant and elderly mortality rate were both high.
    However, he had to admit that, fragile and bird-boned, her appearance fitted the legend attached to her. It would not have been difficult for a strong puff of Orkney wind to blow her away, much less a lusty seal king to carry her off.
    At the mention of Macfie, she politely invited him in. The house, too, was a surprise. He did not expect luxury from Dave’s income as an excise officer. But there it was all around him, a house whose contents on a miniature scale lacked only the exterior of a well-appointed Edinburgh town house.
    Ceilings were low and windows small but the furnishings were lavish. Handsome paintings adorned the walls, there was silver in plenty and a table set with candelabra and fine china.
    She observed his look of surprise and said, ‘No, I am not expecting visitors. I keep it like this for Dave, in his memory. It was what he liked most, a well-set table in a well-kept home,’ she added smiling sadly.
    And Faro was relieved she had been spared the last gruesome ordeal of his recovery from the sea as she shivered and added, ‘Until last week I still believed that one day he would walk in and explain what happened that dreadful night.’ A sudden change of subject, a wistful, ‘Will you take tea, Mr Faro? Visitors are rare and I have no servants.’
    Nor did this luxury fit in with her work in the bakery, Faro thought, although the scones and bannocks were perhaps evidence that she needed a hobby to take her mind away from a doleful future. Had Dave left her reasonably well off from some independent source? The luxurious home failed to justify earnings as an excise officer and a courier of valuable artefacts.
    As he delivered Macfie’s message, such were his innermost thoughts. She smiled sadly in acknowledgement. ‘I never met any of Dave’sfamily after we married and I came to live in Kirkwall.’
    None of their conversation fitted Inga’s description of Thora either. There was nothing of the recluse in her attitude, she seemed happy to have a visitor, eager to hear about Edinburgh, full of praise for the wonderful city Dave had always promised they would visit.
    She shook her head and sighed. ‘It never happened and, alas, never will now.’
    ‘I am sure Mr Macfie would make you most welcome,’ Faro said enthusiastically.
    ‘It is so far away,’ she said making it sound like China, her vague nod confirming that this was one invitation she was unlikely to accept. ‘Are you staying long, Mr Faro?’
    Explaining about his mother and Scarthbreck, he sensed a change in her friendly attitude. ‘I know the place, I lived nearby once and I know it well,’ she repeated and then stopped speaking, staring towards the window, seeing scenes long lost.
    ‘That was my girlhood home before I married Dave,’ she added a moment later, almost as if she had no life before Dave. Faro remembered the seal king episode and that her husband’s drowned corpse had been found in the same area.
    ‘Did your family come from there?’ he asked, knowing the answer.
    Her face clouded over for an instant, then she said, ‘We had no family. They died when my sister and I were children. We had distant relatives, cousins on the mainland, but we