The Ghoul of Christmas Past

that it was mighty strange because the items had been there on his previous pass. When he came back the next time, they were gone, but all the doors and windows were locked. He suggested it was an inside job and had said as much to the police. He’d been called to see the curator of the museum the following day.’ He did some mental math. ‘That would have been yesterday then. He was expecting a commendation of some kind for his diligence and for handling the situation without feeling the need to phone management et cetera. He also expected they wanted to quiz him about the other guards because if it were an inside job, they might consider him to be the only one they could be sure to trust.’
‘Why?’
Michael gave his wife a surprised expression. ‘Because he’s the one who reported it. If he were also the thief, he’d be a terrible one.’
She nodded, not particularly interested. ‘Why are you telling me this?’
Glad she asked the question, Michael got to go back to the original point. ‘I mention it now because I note while reading the news myself, that one of the shareholders for the Dickens Museum has gone missing.’
‘Missing?’ Mary echoed. Then sensing that she had foolishly shown interest, begged, ‘So what, Michael? Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because that’s two things … two crimes in the space of a few days at the same place. Doesn’t that feel like it must be connected somehow?’ He watched her face for sign that she saw the connection too. When she showed none, he asked, ‘Don’t you think these things might be connected?’
‘A missing person is not a crime,’ she replied, lifting her paper once more and opting to be pedantic because it annoyed him when she did. ‘Not until a body or a ransom note turns up.’
Michael sniffed in a breath through his nose, breathing deeply and holding it for a second while he squinted his eyes in thought. ‘No. There is something screwy about this.’
Now she got it. ‘Oh, no.’
‘Oh, no?’ he repeated her words. ‘What oh, no?’
‘You’re trying to be a detective,’ she accused him. ‘I knew this would happen. The moment you started getting involved in Tempest’s cases, I knew it would come to no good. And I was right, wasn’t I?’
Trying not to frown across the breakfast table, Michael nevertheless felt that his wife might be missing the point. ‘A man who owns shares in the Dickens Museum has gone missing and things have been stolen from the Dickens Museum.’ He remembered something else, adding quickly, ‘And let’s not forget that Dickens Greatest Works Theme Park just shut with the loss of all jobs. There must be a connection in these things. It stinks like a cover up or a diversion tactic.’
‘That’s your son talking. That’s the exact sort of thing he would say and since he is the private investigator and you are just a retired Royal Navy officer, perhaps you should let him know about it and leave it at that. Besides, the Dickens Museum and Dickens Greatest Works Theme Park are completely different entities, I don’t even think they are owned by the same people.’
Michael skewed his lips to one side. ‘I don’t know. You might be right,’ he conceded.
‘There you are then,’ said his wife, collecting her newspaper again and considering the subject closed.
Generally opting to take the path of least resistance with his wife – it had ensured for a happy marriage thus far - Michael pushed back his chair and began to pick up the crockery and cutlery. ‘What’s that website Tempest uses to find out about people and companies and stuff?’ he asked, taking an armful to the kitchen.
Mary elected to not answer his question, choosing to divert his attention instead. ‘We have a few jobs to do today,’ she announced. ‘I’ll need your hand with the groceries, there are books to return to the library, and there’s your prescription to collect …’
His wife’s voice faded into the background as he concentrated. There would always be mundane things to do like shopping for lettuce and taking books back to the library. Those tasks could be performed any old time. In the morning they were driving to Hampshire to spend Christmas with their daughter and her husband and the grandchildren. That was exciting and he looked forward to it. His children and more recently his grandchildren were a blessing. He had to wonder how long it might now take Tempest to produce a child, given how enamoured he appeared to be with his business partner and girlfriend, Amanda.
Thoughts of his children and grandchildren were all very nice but seeing his grandchildren didn’t get his pulse racing the same way running around with Tempest did. It wasn’t that he was bored exactly, he wasn’t looking for an adrenalin rush, at least not consciously. However, the years were creeping on and a milestone birthday was just around the corner. If he didn’t do the things he felt like doing now, soon he might decide he was too old to do them. There might be nothing to the Dickens events, but equally, they could be connected, and it sounded like exactly the sort of thing his son, Tempest, might choose to look into.
‘Companies House!’ he barked triumphantly when the name suddenly popped into his head. Now all he had to do was work out how to look up the information he wanted.
A face appeared around the doorframe, pinning him to the spot with squinty eyes and a narrow expression.
In his head, Michael Michaels prayed she wouldn’t raise her wagging finger. She reserved it for those rare occasions when she wanted to really give him a telling off and he didn’t feel it was currently warranted. Granted, he was giving serious consideration to doing just exactly as he felt, and