Mairead took a swig of the whiskey and grimaced as it burned down her throat, but she needed it, after the four hours of sleep she'd gotten last night. That should keep her going another few hours.

"'E was wanderin' a lot, got lost, even- Da never got lost, no'once in all ma life." Mairead frowned and pulled the note he'd left from her pocket. "'Ere's the note 'e left. Didn't give me much, but it's somethin'."

The note read, in Scots (which Mairead translated for the Inspector; she was only illiterate when the language wasn't Scots):
Maisie-
By the time you read this, I will be long gone to Whitby, on the coast of England. Do not come for me, for you will find nothing of what you expect. Grave things have happened to me, and I must seek out a remedy for this curse in whatever time I have left. Godspeed, my daughter, and may you one day keep our line and traditions going strong.
Odhran

Mairead pointed at the part where her father had mentioned 'keep our line and traditions going strong'. "'E always wanted me te settle down an'ave wee ones. I s'pose ah should follow 'is wishes if ah never see 'im again." Shaking her head at herself for going off on a tangent like that, Mairead moved her finger to the mention of a curse. "This could also mean 'spell' or 'disease', but me Da always spoke of witch's curses an' how he knew one day 'e'd come under one. Apparently, it's somethin' in our families history, we all die of a 'curse' or whatnae."