Ghost Writer(38)

Doc stood back and crossed his arms. “Hmm. You're an honoured guest and everyone's sweetheart here. Are you sure you want to go?”

I wasn't sure.

“Why did you tell me not to take the captain's prescription? Doesn't it apply to me as much as him? Or you.”

Doc blushed. I had caught him out. That'll teach him to tease me.

“Right now, you have enough to process without worrying about whether or not your feelings are appropriate. Let us hold the line. That's our job.”

Now I felt like a heel. I sighed and hopped off the examination table. All the attention was nice. Weird, but nice. Nevertheless, it was going to get old fast if everyone kept walking on eggshells around me. What if I wanted a little false intimacy? It might be fun. It was all so frustrating. I wasn’t sure if the captain would ever cross the line, but I was damned sure Doc wouldn’t. I needed something else to think about besides my nightmares and my daydreams.

“I need to work. Do you have a table I could use?”

Doc set me up with an adjustable bedside table and a chair. I set up a mini-office beside my bed. A little later Gravell showed up with a thermos of tea.

“Are you going to be all right in here?”

I shrugged. “I’d prefer a room with a view, but I’m okay. Fortunately, I'm not so claustrophobic when I work.”

“Well, Doc is taking you to lunch and the captain has invited you to tea. I will come for you at fifteen thirty hours. That way you'll get a chance to take a walk on deck first. It won't be a long walk, since there aren't many places to stroll, but fresh air will be involved. Is that acceptable?”

“Of course.”

“Then I'll let you get to work. Call me if you get claustrophobic.”

“Merci, Chief Gravell.”

“Bienvenue, Madame Kirby.”

I felt a bit like a bird in a gilded cage. After years of being a single mother, being taken care of was a pleasant novelty. However, I wished I could go to lunch with Sophie. I could use a little more female companionship.



I finished reading the early part of the journal and caught up with the section I read aboard the station. Minton was growing suspicious of his fellows. At this point he wasn't finding find fault with their work. It did seem as though the more he learned about his colleagues' private lives, the less he liked them.

Margolo seems to have only one thing on his mind. Sex. I've always known he was a player, but I never suspected the depth of his depravity. Yet, as bad as he is, Boreman is worse. He has a wife and two young children, yet he is as debauched as Margolo. The two are like-minded in their perversion and often share stories of their various triumphs with the opposite sex.

Dawes is too slick. He makes jokes at my expense, tells me to loosen up. He has convinced Mitch to only allow smoking in the wardroom after meals as if the odour miraculously disappears before the next time I have to sit down to eat. What can I expect? He smokes too.

Golanger looks innocent. He doesn't smoke or drink. He writes his mother every day. If he's so squeaky clean, why is he playing poker with the others? Why does he smile at Boreman's stories? He's playing a deep game.



Minton might have been disgusted by the stories, that didn't stop him from recording some of them. I gave the ghost a long look after reading a couple of them aloud. He looked embarrassed, and I think he would have blushed if it was possible. I was beginning to get the impression that the man who wrote this journal was quite different from the spirit that hovered before me every time I opened his book.

“These are the kind of stories I heard my father's cronies swap when they thought I wasn't around to hear. Sexist jokes and tales of sexual prowess that were grossly exaggerated for entertainment value, if not outright lies.”

The ghost shrugged.

I read on. There were more character assassinations, more snooping around, more hyperbole. Then a turn for the worse.

Boreman is watching me. He knows I'm onto him. I found the letter from his lover and it's worse than I thought. He's got a wife and two children, yet he's been performing acts of bestiality and other perversions upon another man. The letter is explicit and detailed. I've read it over and over. Boreman's lover is using him and it scares me to think what Boreman might be willing to do for him.

Well, that explained the extreme stories and machismo of Boreman. He was covering up for a sexual preference that could have had him dishonourably discharged from the Navy and probably ruined his life at that time. I hoped to hell that Boreman was smart enough to get rid of the letter once he knew that Minton found out about it. If it was as explicit as Minton suggested, I didn't want Mary Lou reading it.

I shook my head. “Is this what got you killed, Mister Minton?”



Tim managed to stay on board. He said he wanted to interview the key players in my rescue. He joined us for lunch, and I discovered that Doc wasn't as good a buffer as Gravell. In fairness, Tim treated me like a buddy and I was too polite to repulse him. Then, when Doc's attention was diverted by another officer, he swooped in.

“Are you mad at me, Jen?”

“Why? Have you done something I should be angry about?”

“Dora's mad at me. I made the mistake of telling her not to worry if she didn't get the permissions she wanted. We already have the makings of a great doc. It might even be better if we could catch the Navy scuttling the ship. No matter what they say, it's going to scream conspiracy and conspiracy sells.”