Hulda shut the door behind her and dropped her bag on the nearest chair. “A few things to discuss. To start, Whimbrel House is possessed by a wizard, and—”
“Possession! I’m not surprised.” Myra tapped a pencil to her lip. “And how is the owner liking it? Mr. . . .” She pulled out a ledger.
“Fernsby. He seems to be taking to the house and our administrations well, but he’s not fond of ghosts.” Her thoughts were spinning, and she desperately tried to organize them. Sucked in a deep breath through her nose to steady herself. One thing at a time, Hulda. “He wants the spirit exorcised.” Stop fidgeting.
Myra’s face fell. “Does he? He won’t be convinced otherwise?”
Hulda rolled her lips together, considering, bossing her thoughts into a single row so she could process one at a time. “He . . . may be convinced yet. I think he’s becoming fond of the place; he turned down an interested buyer, for the time being.”
Myra looked a little stiff. “I see.”
“But I’m doing the necessary research, regardless of the outcome.”
“As you should.”
Hulda nodded. “On that errand, I did want to see if BIKER had any information on Whimbrel House not included in the initial file.”
Her employer’s lips pulled into a frown. She stood and paced to the window. “I’m afraid not—that was everything I could easily pull when the news came in. But I could have Sadie check the library downstairs, just to be sure.”
“I don’t mind checking it myself. I would like to return to the island tonight.”
Myra waved her permission. “Is that all? You could have sent a note, Hulda.” A slight smile curled her lips. “Always so thorough. That’s what makes you invaluable.”
Hulda bit back a smile of her own. “A few other matters.” Another deep breath. “That is, we’ve only hired a single staff member, thus far—”
“How is Miss Taylor faring?”
“Quite well. She’s a good find.”
Myra rubbed her chin. “Indeed. She has quite the story, if you ever care to ask her.”
“I will have to do that.”
“I might as well tell you while I’m thinking of it—that request you sent in for a cook? She already hired out and is on her way to Connecticut.”
“Of course she is.” Hulda removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I’ll ask Miss Steverus for some other leads.” She reached for her bag handle to occupy her hands, then recalled she’d discarded it. “While I’ll see through the exorcism, Mr. Fernsby has also requested that I stay on longer. He is unaccustomed to staff and believes my leaving would be jarring. If there is nothing in BIKER’s queue, an extension would be relatively harmless.”
Myra raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Not an uncommon request. What are your thoughts on Mr. Fernsby?”
“He is an interesting character,” she answered truthfully. “A little eccentric at times, but friendly. He manages stress well. He has a creative mind that often gets caught up in his stories. He’s also a clutterbug.”
Myra laughed. “I’m sure that has been a challenge for you.”
Hulda paused, thinking again of the tram and the alleyway. Why would I not concern myself with you?
“But he is kind,” she amended, voice softer. Her stiffness dissipated a little. “And considerate.”
Myra paced to the desk, gripping the back of the chair and leaning her weight on it. “That is good. You are, of course, welcome to stay until I’ve an assignment for you elsewhere.”
Hulda nodded. “That would benefit the client.”
Drumming her fingers on the chair back, Myra asked, “Anything else? You swept in here like a storm.”
“I . . .” Hulda fidgeted. Seized an empty chair and brought it over. Sat. Myra followed her lead and sat as well. “I have a problem. Or I might have a problem.”
Concerned, Myra leaned forward. “What?”
Hulda appreciated being given the time to put it into her own words, knowing very well that Myra could simply pluck memories of the incident from her mind. “I . . . that is, in Portsmouth just two hours ago . . . I believe I saw Silas Hogwood.”
Myra reeled, paling. “Silas Hogwood?” Her mouth worked. “From Gorse End?”
Clasping her hands together, Hulda said, “Yes.”
Myra leaned against her backrest and folded her arms. She deliberated for several seconds. “That’s just not possible. Are you sure?”