My start to the day was bright and early to check the paper, even though I had no love for the legalised slander. The news of my wife's location was worse than any lie I ever read. For breakfast I had Wilfred make me a more traditional meal. The paper had arrived an hour after I had finished eating at about 7:30, went outside to pick it up and went up Stairs to my study. There were many pages full of useless information about some of the people I have gotten to know quite well. One page said Harry killed his wife and another said Percival isn't as powerful as he thinks he is, but when I turned to page four, I saw the article. The headline called her a missing person and not a killer to my delight.

My study was one of the biggest rooms in my house, not by choice as you heard from the ghost my grandfather loved his work and that work required study. Lining the walls, though they were few and far between, there were portraits of the old man. I had only met about one or two occasions, as he was known to be a very public person, in contrast to the rest of my family. Even his wife who almost lived in the public eye.

I was joined, if briefly, by Wilfred after he had finished cleaning the kitchen. "Anything interesting?" His voice showing the strains of a long life. "No, just some pretentious idiots reporting what they find interesting." From my previous statements about the news, as well as that one, it wouldn't be that much of a leap in logic to say I hated the news. They punch holes in the reputations of respectable men like Harry with no mercy, if it wasn't so destructive I'd admire them.

Despite the fact that the headline didn't show any suspicion about six lines there were the hints of a possibility. "The police are being too quiet about her disappearance leading many people to believe she is now dead." They then asked for an interview with me, anytime any place to clear up some details. Every single instinct that helped me survive this long said yes, as, throughout my family's long history, a public appearance could fix any problem. However, in my current condition, any public appearance would raise more questions, plus the disappearance of Harry who has been quiet since he realized he was dying. Many disappearances surrounding one name can't be good.

I made my way down the stairs, lowering my head in shame and talked to Wilfred. "Do you have a pen I can use? I need to send a letter to some people." He handed me a smooth black pen, "I'll join you if you want." He said this while carrying a tray of tea made just the way I like, it so saying nothing was impossible. We had made it back to my study, it must have been clear to Wilfred that something was bothering me as one glance towards my face revealed the truth. "What's wrong? If you don't mind me asking."

"Do you think I'm a good man Wilfred?" Those were words I never expected to say. Never have I heard anyone in my place ask that, but I did. "Well, you're better than the people who live next door and the people who live out of this street, the less reputable people." From the sigh that followed, I could tell he was just telling me that to cheer me up. The letter was to the news agency that asked for an interview. "Really though, I'm not better than the people I hunt, the criminals I curse the name of. We all lie, we all cheat, and we all kill. The only difference is I'm less open about it." The letter was very short so I handed it to Wilfred and asked, "Can you make sure this makes it to its destination?" He had no choice as I paid him and gave him the food he eats.

When he left, there was a knock at the door so I opened to find on the other side a child barely older than thirteen in ragged clothes with visible stitches holding a message on a small rectangular bit of paper. From the sloppiness of the letters, to which there were only two explanations, either the writer was drunk or of failing health, there was only one man I knew who matched the description of both, Harry. The note itself was a long-winded request that read, "I can feel it now, the claws of death gripping my neck so I need you here, I want to spend my last few hours with the people I know and care for."