Nice one, Harry, I thought. Make the client feel worse.
I handed her a tissue from a box in my drawer and she dabbed her eyes. While she did so, I quickly checked the box to make sure I had enough tissues. I figured she could be crying for quite some time.
‘Mrs Claus, perhaps you could start from the beginning so we can decide on a proper course of action. How long has he been gone?’
‘Since yesterday morning,’ she replied. ‘He left the previous night for our northern base and was due to arrive first thing yesterday. According to the elves, he never showed. We’ve checked with air-traffic control and they’ve had no reports of any accidents. The last thing we heard was when he gave us an update an hour out of Grimmtown. Since then, nothing. It’s as if he just disappeared into thin air. I may never see him again.’ This brought on a fresh deluge of tears. Now I was really concerned; if she didn’t stop soon there was the distinct possibility my office would be flooded and I wasn’t sure that my insurance would cover the cost of the damage.
‘OK, OK.’ I whipped out my notebook and began to scribble down what she was saying. ‘How was he getting to your base? Grimmair?’
‘Oh goodness, no. He always flew himself. He’s quite an accomplished sleigh pilot, you know. He doesn’t like travelling by commercial airlines.’
I didn’t blame him. I didn’t fancy it too much either. I always seemed to end up squashed between the two smelliest, loudest and most unpleasant Orcs on the flight – and they always took my peanuts.
‘So, he left on his sleigh. Was this some sort of motorised craft or …?’
‘Goodness, Mr Pigg, do you know nothing about my husband? It was reindeer powered. All his sleighs are propelled by a team of reindeer. Of course this wasn’t the elite team; they’re saved for the Christmas run. These were just economy reindeer, but certainly capable enough of getting him to the North Pole without incident. But he never arrived.’ More tears.
‘And you’ve received no communication of any sort, either from him or anyone who may have taken him?’
‘Nothing and I’m so worried something might have happened to him. Please, Mr Pigg, I need your help; the children need your help.’
I thought of Jack Horner waiting outside. What would he think of me if I didn’t find Santa Claus – especially if I didn’t do so before December 25th?
‘OK, let’s go through some of the more obvious questions. Does he have any enemies?’
A shake of the head.
‘Have you noticed anyone suspicious hanging around the house over the past few days?’
Another shake.
‘Do you know of any reason why anyone would want to kidnap him? Are you rich?’
‘We have some money put aside, but we reinvest most of what we make back into the company. Every year there are new toys added to the children’s lists, so we’re constantly developing new products and this puts quite a drain on our finances. We’re not in it for the money, you know. If whoever did this did it because they think we’re wealthy, they’ll be sorely disappointed.’
That left one obvious question. ‘So if he wasn’t kidnapped for the money, then why was he kidnapped?’
Mrs Claus shrugged and said, ‘I don’t know; I just want you to find him, whatever it takes.’ But as she said it, I thought I detected the faintest hint of evasion in the glance she gave me. She knew more than she was saying. There was obviously something else going on here and, with my luck, it would almost certainly result in something unpleasant happening to me while I tried to work out what it was.
Super!
‘Is there anything else you can tell me that might be important?’ I pressed. ‘Did your husband appear any different before he left? Did he seem tense, out of sorts? Any little detail, anything you might have noticed, no matter how insignificant, might be important.’
Mrs Claus thought for a second and shook her head. ‘No, nothing. It was just another trip. He was as happy as always. Lots of “Ho, ho, ho’s” and “Merry Christmas, everyone’s”. He did like to get into the spirit of things early. And now he’s gone.’
Just when I thought the waterworks had finished, they started up again. She was a one-woman reservoir. She appeared to be storing enough water inside her to supply an entire town for a year. Where did she keep it all? I was hoping she’d stop soon – I was running out of tissues.
‘Mrs Claus, let me assure you that the Third Pig Detective Agency is on the job. Our skilled operatives will be working on the case to the exclusion of everything else and we will do our utmost to ensure your husband is returned safe and sound.’
I know, I know: ‘skilled operatives’ was stretching it a little, but I was hoping she hadn’t noticed that, apart from me, they consisted of a small boy and a fat ex-genie dressed in bright yellow silk trousers.
She seemed reassured by my charm (in fairness, who wouldn’t be) and got up to leave. As she walked to the door, something struck me – and it wasn’t her forearm this time.
‘Just one last question: have you talked to the police about this?’
‘I reported it as soon as I found out he was missing, but they don’t seem to be taking it too seriously. As there wasn’t a ransom note and he’s only been gone for a day, they’re suggesting he might have just run off with someone else.’ She hauled herself to her full height and bristled with indignation. ‘As if!’
Frankly, if I was him, I’d be breaking all land-speed records to get as far away from this woman as was humanly (or porcinely) possible: she terrified me. ‘Just out of curiosity, how long have you been married?’
She smiled proudly. ‘Two hundred and thirty-seven years of wedded bliss last October.’
That stopped me in my tracks. ‘He must be quite a man.’ I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
She nodded. ‘And I, Mr Pigg, am quite a woman. I quickly put the police right on that particular theory of theirs, let me assure you, but I don’t expect them to give it their full and undivided attention just yet – despite my best efforts to persuade them otherwise.’
I didn’t have any doubts as to the effectiveness of her powers of persuasion; she’d already convinced me to take on her case – and against my better judgement too. It looked like I had a new client.
‘OK, Mrs Claus, we’ll probably need to check out your house and wherever your husband left from on the off chance there might be a clue as to what happened. Is there anyone else in the house at the moment – housekeeper, gardener, someone else who might know where your husband has gone?’
‘Goodness no, apart from the local flight-control team and reindeer wranglers, there’s just the two of us. All the rest of our employees are at our headquarters at the North Pole.’
‘How many employees do you have up there?’
‘Apart from the reindeer, we’ve got our admin staff and about one hundred elves. They’re very diligent, you know.’
Elves! I’d probably have to talk to them as well; there was always the possibility that if this did turn out to be a kidnapping, someone there might be involved. Great! A trip to the North Pole in December: ice, snow, freezing temperatures and elves – and you know how much I dislike elves. They’re pompous, arrogant, overbearing and talk in riddles – and that’s just their good points.
‘We’ll need to interview everyone,’ I said to her. ‘Where’s the nearest airport?’
‘Let me take care of that,’