‘Change your mind?’ asked Frank.
Michael shrugged. ‘I don’t remember the number. I can call him tomorrow. It will make his day, I expect.’ He drew in a breath and let it go through his nose – something was still troubling him. ‘Mary, how did you know … Kevin,’ like everyone else, Michael was having trouble adjusting to the idea that the ghoul he’d just spent the whole day chasing was now one of the good guys. That his name was Kevin, as mundane a name as one might find, didn’t help. The ghoul, or rather, Kevin, without instruction to do something, was just standing to one side doing nothing. ‘How did you know he would do what you asked?’
Mary had taken it upon herself to look after the giant hulking lump of a man, positioning herself so she was closest to him like a mother might with a nervous child. ‘There was a man like this in the street where I grew up. He was a teenager by the time I was old enough to play outside and he suffered from gigantism, much like Kevin here. He wasn’t as big as Kevin and they didn’t have a name for the condition back then, but I guess people would say he was a little on the slow side. I knew he was harmless, but he was also bigger than anyone in the town and that made people cross the street to get away from him. His name was Matthew. As a little girl I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to play with him and got a proper telling off from my mum when she found me. Matthew was helping me learn to ride my bike, running alongside it to keep me upright.’
Mary had a faraway, sad look to her eyes, remembering something that still pained her. ‘The local boys discovered they could get Matthew to do things. He just didn’t know any better and he always wanted to join in and to please people. One day they got him to steal things, and when the police came, he hurt one of them and he was taken away. I never saw him again. I suppose Kevin will have to go away too.’
Michael nodded his head, seeing no other possible option. ‘For his own safety as well as that of everyone else.’
A polite cough interrupted them, and they turned to see it came from Elizabeth Cudmore. ‘I believe there may be another option.’ Her opinion got lots of raised eyebrows, but everyone kept quiet to hear what she had to say. ‘He saved my life and I think I speak for the other shareholders,’ - (James and Mason exchanged a glance that said they didn’t agree with whatever Elizabeth was about to propose though neither vocalised their thoughts) - ‘when I say that I believe we can find a safe facility for Kevin. Such things exist. My brother is a high-court judge and will be getting a call in the morning where I shall ask him to perform a Christmas miracle. Essentially, Kevin will go to jail,’ Elizabeth saw Mary’s frown, ‘but the sort of jail where they are not confined to cells and have arts and craft classes every day. For someone like Kevin, I believe it will be like a permanent vacation.
‘That sounds much more like it,’ said Mary. Turning to face Kevin she asked. ‘Would you like to go to a home where you don’t have to do what people tell you all day? You’ll be looked after, and no one will bother you. How does that sound?’
Kevin did the thing with his face that was as close as he could get to a smile. It still looked horrific, but Mary was becoming familiar with his expressions. She took his hand in hers which was a lot like when a baby holds their parent’s little finger; it gave both Kevin and Mary comfort.
Elizabeth concluded, ‘My business partners and I will set up a trust fund.’ She heard the rustle of clothing as Jason raised his hand. ‘Yes, we will,’ she snapped, causing him to lower it again. ‘He will be cared for.’ She looked around the room at Frank and his ninjas, at Mary holding the giant’s hand and Michael Michaels, half crippled and sitting on the floor. ‘What about the rest of you? We owe you our lives. Why were you even involved? You are not the police.’
Michael let a grin crease his face. This was his chance. ‘Well, kitten, sometimes the world needs a hero.’
In the next second, Mary’s phone bounced off his head.
The End
Author’s Note
Hello, Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed this story. It is short for a novel, but officially novel length at over forty thousand words. I intended it to be a short story, which would have been no greater than half this length, but as so often happens with me, once I fall into story-telling mode, I have few controls.
I first thought up the concept of a killer dressed up as Dickens more than a year ago. I created a file for it and wrote a few lines of notes, but it sat on the planner until randomly, a few weeks ago, I decided to write a Christmas story. I have so many tales to tell that I might never get them all down on paper and my desire to push onward with two of my more popular series led me to put the next Blue Moon book on the back burner. It was supposed to be The Sandman that I
