Ghost Writer(71)

Boreman rolled his eyes. I tried to keep my eyes focussed on Mary Lou. It wasn't easy.

“On a ship, he would have seemed a bit fussy. On a submarine, he obviously found ways to cope. Trapped on the underwater station, he was in hell. The men he was with transformed from friends to monsters and that transformation is recorded in his journal. Your father, the antithesis of Minton, was the first to be warped. Minton saw him as a threat to himself and Golanger.”

Golanger appeared, looked to the other two ghosts then to me. Golanger and Boreman both shook their heads, not in refutation of my interpretation, but with sadness.

“Margolo, one of Minton's best friends, was next.”

Margolo's ghost showed up. His demeanor was grim, but he nodded, acknowledging I was on the right track.

I continued, a fine sweat breaking out on my upper lip and forehead.

“Ironically, I think Margolo understood Minton best and was trying to intervene with Commander Shore to take Minton's complaints more seriously.”

Even as I said the name, Mitchell Shore appeared. I could tell I had summoned him because, unlike the others, he really didn't want to be here. His expression was pinched. No doubt he didn't appreciate the implied criticism. I could feel the air grow heavy and cold.

I took a ragged breath.

“Getting back to your question, yes, I did understand the responsibility I had…that I have.”

Margolo signalled his crew to back away. The hatch flew open. Fresh air ruffled my papers and dried the cold sweat on my face. I could breathe again.

Startled, Mary Lou looked around. Her father broke formation and stepped forward to stroke her hair. She shivered.

I forced myself to be matter-of-fact amidst the rampant spookiness. “Mary Lou, you and I have different ways of approaching the truth, but we're on the same quest. Now I think you should go.”

Under my breath I added.

“All of you.”



After a break with tea and chocolate, I was able to complete the interviews. I was careful to refer to the crew generically and didn't invoke any more spirits. The émil Gagnan divers were succinct. Alex Mercuros was charming. Welland and Cross were modest, but excited.

I thought of interviewing the members of AFFA that weren't diving and decided to defer. I thought Ben's presence might summon Dawes, and I wasn't up to that. Dora would just take too long. Tim would ask why I did this without him. If I didn't interview them, I couldn't very well interview Lil, Tracy, and Jamal, so Gravell and I packed up.

“You okay?” Gravell asked.

“I'm not sure.” My hands were shaking as I tried to manipulate the camera. “Here, you better do this. I'm trying to put Humpty Dumpty together again and not having much luck.”

“Why did you take it apart?”

I shook my head and concentrated on warming my fingers. They felt like ice. Another weird side effect of ghosts.

“I'm not scared,” I said aloud, as much for my own benefit as Gravell’s.

“I never said you were. Although I wouldn't blame you.”

He took my hands put them under his arms. I closed the distance between us so that I could lean my cheek on his chest. He picked up my jacket, draped it across my shoulders and held it in place.

“You need more tea and chocolate,” he stated.

I smiled and he must have felt it because his arms tightened a little, then he let me go. At least, that's how I interpreted what happened.

My hands were warm. The chills had passed. The anxious feeling that remained wasn't part of the ghostly aftershock. It was a nagging feeling that finally allowing itself to be identified.

“I need to get the journal back. I'll need it with me tomorrow.” I gave Gravell an apologetic grimace. “I think you'll have to get it for me. I'm not sure Mary Lou will be inclined to acquiesce to my request.”





Chapter Thirty-Five ~ Mending Fences



It was rather crowded in the wardroom that evening. It didn't make sense for people to go back and forth between ships unnecessarily, so Welland and Cross were staying on board. So was Captain Campbell. He had asked permission oversee the operation from the émil Gagnan. In fact, it was probably a politely worded order.

“I think I'll eat later,” said Gravell, stopping at the entrance.

I was ready to back out too.

“You go ahead, Madame Kirby. I'll take care of a little business while you dine.”

People came and went. Stopping to eat. Stopping by to give a word of encouragement. In turn, I ate dinner with Captain Campbell and Tim, then dessert with Alex and Franchot. Welland, Cross, and the other divers joined us at various intervals so that I had constant company. Yet, I felt left out.

At the other large table, Dora held court with rest of the research team. One look from Dora told me that she knew about the journal and probably the interview with Mary Lou. Jamal and Tracy were obviously taking Mary Lou's side. Both gave me the evil eye. Reuben didn't go that far, but he was cool. Only Mike and Lil were friendly. Each made a point of coming to congratulate me on qualifying for the dive. Neither stayed to chat.

When Dora left the wardroom, I excused myself from the table. If Mary Lou was angry at me, so be it. If every member of AFFA decided to give me the cold shoulder, I could deal. I wasn't going to let a long-time friendship get flushed over one lousy journal. I had to make peace with Dora.