He may just be the meanest Christmas villain of all time. A man who counts his money while children starve, who mocks the sick and begruges his most loyal friends even the tiniest bit of happiness. Oh, yes, he's the OG of bad guys. All right, Dorothy vapor, the Grinch, Baltimore, all rolled into one evil lump of a man. Now, but just you wait. This nasty piece of work will get his comeuppance in the most unexpected and satisfying way. I'm speaking, of course, of Ebenezer-Scrooge. I'm Keith Morrison, and this is Season 2 of Morrison mysteries. Our story is set in the 1840s, London, England. It's winter, cold, and bleak, but it's Christmas Eve. The warmth and joy of the season of giving permeate the grave fog of the city in all places but one, the tiny shriveled heart of Ebenezer-Scrooge. As we begin, Scrooge is sitting in his office, barking orders at his kindhearted clerk, Bob Cratchett, who's only hoping to have Christmas Day off to spend time with his family, especially his desperately ill son, Tiny Tim. But Lowesham Scrooge doesn't give a thought to any of that. No. Cratchett's family means nothing to Scrooge. And Christmas?

A passing annoyance. A waste of valuable time. Yes, and meanness, Scrooge was second to none, except just possibly to his old business partner, the greedy Jacob Marley, who'd pinched his last penny and died seven years before the Christmas Eve of our story. In fact, it's thoughts of Marley that begin Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. Marley was dead to begin with. There was no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it, and Scrooge's name was good for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a doorknale. Scrooge and he were partners for I don't know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assigned, his sole friend, and his sole mourner. And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully caught up by the sad event. Scrooge never painted out old Marley's name. There it stood years afterwards, above the warehouse door, Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people knew to the business called Scrooge, Scrooge, and sometimes Marley. But he answered to both names. It was all the same to him. Oh, but he was a tight fisted hand to the grindstone, Scrooge.

A squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner, hard and sharp as the moment, secret and self-contained and solitary as an oyster. The coal within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened his gate, made his eyes red, his thin lips blue, and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. Thank you for listening to hear all five episodes of Charles Dickens, a Christmas carol, just search, Morris and mysteries wherever you get your podcasts.

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