Ghost Writer(66)

Your captain, bless him, is too much like your Pa. He wants everyone to be happy and doesn't always know when to put his foot down. Mr. Minton reminds me of your Aunt Ida, too ready to put a foot down. Maybe they'll balance each other out or maybe not. Either way, you look to Mr. Magoo.

“Mr. Magoo?”

“That's what Dawes and Shore called him. Mrs. Golanger probably thought it was his real name. There's more. Later, Golanger writes back to his mother.”

I've been thinking about what you told me, Ma, how people aren't always what they seem. I'm beginning to see what you mean. I suppose Boreman is mostly talk, but at least he's interesting. He says he'll take me rally racing when our mission is over. Even if he doesn't, I like listening to his stories about racing and I'm learning a lot about cars and mechanical engineering from him. Naire is a good guy, but he has a bit of a chip on his shoulder. I don't know that we'll ever be close, but I'm taking your advice and looking to him for an example on how to work and cope with things.

You are scarily right about the captain and Mr. Minton. They are exactly like Pa and Aunt Ida, except that Aunt Ida is louder. Sometimes I have to bite my tongue because I want to laugh, but it isn't really very funny.

I haven't gone to Lt. Margolo (NOT Magoo, Ma), but only because I don't need to. One thing I learned from Naire is to keep quiet and do your job.

I scrolled down the page. “Later he writes…”

Since we started, the captain, Mr. Minton, and Mr. Margolo have been friends. Sometimes they rub against each other, but eventually they sort it out. Now, I don't know.

Seems to me thing are falling apart between them. They act polite, but I know that the Doc and Mr. Margolo are concerned about Mr. Minton and the captain isn't taking them seriously. He's not taking Mr. Minton seriously either, even though he has some serious concerns. I can't quite see how the Captain can have it both ways.

Then there was this argument between the four of them. Mostly, I think it was between the captain and Mr. Minton. I think Mr. Margolo and Doc Dawes were trying to calm things down. Anyway, now they are all being brittle and polite. It's like that Christmas when Pa and Aunt Ida had that big fight then tried to pretend it was nothing. Doc Dawes is like Uncle Nels, trying to smooth things over by also pretending. Mr. Margolo reminds me of you, trying to fix things and hold the family together. I hope it blows over soon.

“That's the last thing he writes. Given the timing, compared to the journal, I think Golanger found out that Minton was starting to spy on them.”

Gravell shrugged. “It doesn't prove Minton was the killer, but I suppose we are building a circumstantial case realizing that no court is going to accept the confession of a ghost.”

“I'm less interested in proof than understanding what happened.” I grabbed my tea and leaned back. I stretched my legs out and Gravell shifted his leg so we still maintained some contact. I gave him a covert glance. His expression seemed determined not to give anything away, but his eyes had softened to milk chocolate. I forced myself to focus on work.

“There are several theories about what ghosts are and why they haunt. Of course, one of the most reputable theories is that they don't really exist at all. What we think are ghosts are projections of our imagination. We imagine ghosts because we don't want to let go of a loved one, or we need to manifest our fears or feeling of guilt. Maybe that's true most of the time, but I'm not inclined to hold to that theory in this case, for obvious reasons.”

Gravell acknowledged my point with a nod.

“The most popular theory is that ghosts hang around because they have unfinished business. They are attached to a place or thing or, sometimes, a person. Sometimes the spirit isn't aware that they are dead. Often the circumstances surrounding their death tie the spirit to this world. Regardless of whether the apparition is manifested by the living or the dead, it's all about resolving issues and letting go. Someone has to see the light.”

Gravell picked up one of the mini bars, unwrapped it, and offered it to me. I took a bite and leaned forward to put the other half beside my cup. Now our legs were intertwined. There was a pause, then he disentangled, still keeping contact.

“Chief Gravell.”

He forestalled me with a raised hand. “Madame Kirby, our position is rather awkward. Your safety is my responsibility. My job is to uphold Canadian interests in this investigation. I need you to do my job, and I think you need me to do yours. I am sure you don't want to broadcast your talent, so I can't delegate my duties much. If it were otherwise, I could have Sloan or Briseau guard you over night. So, whatever attraction I may feel towards you, I need to keep a professional distance.”

“I see.”

He sighed. “I bet you don't. I have had to address the question of why I am keeping an eye on you twenty-four seven without actually answering directly. So, I've fostered the belief that I am under the captain's orders to keep his girlfriend safe and,” he shook his head, “I am pretty sure half the crew thinks I was chosen because I'm gay.”

I stared. “But you're not are you?”

“No, but even if anyone asked, which they won't, I wouldn't say one way or another because it is a convenient assumption. It means that people perceive you being perfectly safe with me, which you are in any case.”

It was my turn to shake my head. “The captain doesn't think you're gay. He thinks you're competition.”