Page 23 of Dead and Gone

"How will you fund the operation of your museum without patrons?" I again watch for signs of unease, but his expression doesn't change. "Because you're hardly a key attraction for the few tourists who visit this town."

"Violet," whispers Rowan, then addresses the curator. "The local history books aren't as valuable as the knowledge I'm sure you have inside the museum. We'd love the chance to look at the town records."

"Try the library."

"No. The original records displayed in the museum. We wouldn't take the books, just look at them with you there." Rowan smiles. "Honestly, you'd help us out a lot."

The curator twists the teacup around in his hands. "How do I knowyou'renot the one holding the mole to ransom?"

I blink. "Ransom?"

The curator regards us both silently. "You either have good poker faces or you don't know. I received a note asking for money in return for the mole. The thieves are threatening to destroy the item."

The curator takes a folded sheet of A4 white paper from his jacket pocket and puts it on the table. Typed black letters cover the top of the page.

We have the mole. If you want him back in one piece pay us £100. Wednesday evening. Visitor center. Leave the cash in the box outside. If we see anyone with you, we'll destroy the mole.

Tomorrow evening.

"That's good," I say, pulling out my phone to photograph the note.

"Good?" splutters the curator. "That's blackmail!"

"Goodbecause this means the mole remains intact despite his recent adventurous lifestyle," I reply. "Have you informed the police?"

"No. They think I'm a joke. Thatthisis a joke. When I originally reported the mole as missing, I heard the desk sergeant whispering to the officer while showing them the report I made, and they were clearly amused."

"But blackmail is a serious issue. They'll listen to that," says Rowan.

"Tell the police and risk the hooligans destroying the mole? No."

There's something I can't put my finger on what's happening here. Are all museum curators obsessive about their exhibits?

"Does the mole have sentimental value? You're rather intense regarding its whereabouts, but not bothered by the pocket watch."

"Because the mole is valuable, and an important historical item. The watch is commonplace. Today's town council may not think the museum is worth investing in, but I willnotlose more exhibits. My great-grandfather was an important member of the town back in the day, and the original curator. They would've respectedhim." The unsettling darkness fills his eyes again.

"Are you a Redridge?" asks Rowan.

"No. My name is Wright."

I tap the table. "Do you know any Redridges?"

"No. Why? Kids stole the mole and according to your 'social media', they still have it. If the family wanted their mole returning, they only need ask."

"And the blackmailers asked for £100?" asks Rowan.

"Why? Did you want to charge a fee to match? That's blackmail too!"

I glower. "I am not base enough to demand money, nor does that interest us. I shall deal with the situation. I'm aware the museum struggles to raise funds; I've no desire to take any from you."

The curator's eyes narrow, and again, I reach out for his thoughts. What do my words prompt inside his head? Thoughts of hidden gems? Missing exhibits? All I can pick up are images of the mole. If only his mind weren't so sticky, I could poke around inside for the truth. Is he connected to a witch and influenced mentally?

I drum my fingers on the table. "We would attend the exchange location at the time specified. No money will change hands, but the mole will soon be in ours."

"And what would you do about the individuals involved in the theft?" he asks.

I consider this a moment. "I always ensure people are treated in the manner they deserve."

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