“Mrs. Barnes, wait.” Joe speaks to Peggy’s rigid back as she leaves the room.
Tommy remains sullen at lunchtime. Not even a door slam on the way out. Normally, Peggy would have been pleased by the restraint, but today with everyone so upset, it reinforces her own tension.
Looking for something to occupy her until the Inspector arrives, she starts in on the ironing. One scorched shirt later, she puts everything away in disgust.
She exercises her agitation by pacing back and forth to the window. All afternoon, she keeps watch for the mysterious policeman. She was concerned when Joe said that he was acting without proper authority. It has added to her sense that there’s something about the Inspector that’s just not quite right. Jack was always teasing her how she never let down her guard, and now when she has just started to accept people as they are, she’s conflicted. She wants Oskar found. Inspector Geyer, however odd, might be the key.
And she’s intrigued. She’s even intrigued that she’s intrigued. It’s been forever since she’s been so engaged in something besides Tommy or the finances. But still, there’s a twitch between her shoulder blades every time she thinks she sees him coming along the street. Her front veranda stays empty of callers.
At dinner, the tension around the table is thick. The day’s newspaper headlines have shouted accusations and spun horrific tales of lost children. Every coffee shop and lunch counter patron had a theory to share, or a finger to point at the police. Last night’s arguments and complaints linger, fed by the city’s reaction to the search being called off. There’s none of the usual banter and casual chatter. Tonight, the household at the table just want to get through dinner and escape.
It is into this silence that Archie Mansfield, in good professorial fashion, clears his throat. “I think that the police have been quite negligent in their duties.” The blunt statement lays there in the middle of the table. He frowns at Joe with the disapproving look of a math teacher marking a paper that will fail.
“You shouldn’t have closed the books on the boy, Constable. I’m disappointed in you and in the police. You gave up too soon. Perhaps he has run off, but don’t you think you should confirm that? Contact police in other cities and towns nearby? Don’t you think you owe it to his poor mother to give her some peace?”
Joe squirms and keeps his head down. Adjusts his chair. Picks at his food. Guilt-ridden.
The math teacher shifts his attention to Tommy, then Peggy. “I know from my own classroom experience how rebellious young men can be. They have a wild, independent streak that is often allowed to flourish in the families of the foreigners. There isn’t the same kind of discipline you’d find in other homes.” Archie pats his mouth with his napkin.
“Are you saying that poor Alicja is to blame for Oskar's disappearance?” Peggy asks. Tommy recognizes the signs of a coming storm and eats faster, anxious to be finished and away. “I've gotten to know the family quite well recently, and I can assure you that Alicja is a loving and devoted mother.”
“Mrs. Barnes, are you aware that her husband is in jail? The family is without a strong male influence to guide the young boys, who run wild.” Constable Kelly and Mr. Smith focus on their plates.
“Mr. Mansfield, you are treading on thin ice. This household is also without a strong, male influence and has been for several years. Tommy and I are managing just fine, unless you think otherwise?” Peggy folds her napkin in a controlled manner, placing it on the table. She rises to clear those plates that are empty, the back of her neck flushed with anger. Those still eating finish quickly.
“Mrs. Barnes, my apologies, but… oh, I am sorry. You misunderstand my intent,” Archie says, but she is already in the kitchen.
After dinner, dishes are cleared and the household safely disperses to private tasks behind closed doors. Peggy resumes her vigil in front of the living room window. She's left her drapes open to the evening so as to see the street. Her arms are crossed and one foot taps impatiently. The nerve of Archie Mansfield. What an unpleasant man. They always blame the mother. Tommy and I are doing just fine. I hope this interview with the Inspector doesn’t take too long. I am ready for bed. If it weren’t for Tommy and Oskar--
Her heart skips a beat when Inspector Geyer approaches her front step.
Peggy opens the door before the Inspector can knock. “Good evening, Inspector Geyer. Please, come in.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Barnes,” he says, doffing his hat.
Peggy closes the drapes, fusses a bit too much in getting the old Inspector comfortable, compensating for her crankiness and determined to be a gracious hostess.
“Has something happened? You seem preoccupied.”
“No, and my apologies, Inspector. It’s been a rather long day and everyone here is testy. There were words spoken at dinner and now everyone is hiding in their rooms,” Peggy says.
They sit awkwardly in silence, the mantle clock counting off the seconds that seem like minutes. “Mrs. Barnes… ” Frank begins.
“You have news about Oskar, Inspector?”
“No, not at the moment. However, I have another matter to discuss with you. Something of a personal nature,” Inspector Geyer says.
Oh-oh, here it comes. I knew I should have turned off the lights and gone to bed. We’re not even going to talk about the case. And he’s such a weird duck. Joe says that he isn’t officially on the case.
He clears his throat and begins again. “Mrs. Barnes, yesterday when I was here, you apologized on several occasions for the Constable’s behavior.”
“Yes, he was quite rude.”
“Mrs. Barnes. I feel that it is I who should apologize to you.”
Peggy looks at him with a puzzled, but expectant half smile. “I’m sorry, Inspector, but I don’t follow. What have you done that requires an apology?”
“I have thought about little else but this conversation since yesterday, madam. I would like to share something with you. It may cause you some unease. However, I assure you my intentions are all good.”
What’s he going on about? Am I safe? Inviting him back wasn’t a good idea.
“Inspector, when I told you I was a widow yesterday, you may have misunderstood,” Peggy says.
Inspector Geyer looks at her, alarmed. “Oh no, my intentions are honorable. I just need to be able to explain—”
“Inspector Geyer, I really don’t have the energy for more drama tonight. Why don’t you just get to the point?”
The Inspector gives his head a small shake as if to clear his vision, and takes a deep breath. “I’m not sure how to begin. Or what to say.”
Can I ask him to leave? Maybe I could say I need to check on Tommy?
Peggy stands. “I’m sorry Inspector, but it’s been an exhausting day. I’m not sure where you’re going with this, but Constable Kelly is just upstairs. Perhaps it would be better for you to leave, or do I need to call him?”
Inspector Geyer holds his hand as if stopping traffic. “Please madam, let me continue. Please be seated. I really do not wish to cause you any distress. This is quite difficult for me. If you could give me but a few moments?”
There is something about the man. Curiosity, compassion, and a lifetime of good manners oblige her to sit, albeit perched on the edge of the chair. “Two minutes, Inspector. And then my patience is done.”
“You should not find fault with Constable Kelly. He was not rude last evening. Rather, he could not see me sitting here. He thought you were talking to yourself.”
“Inspector, I still don’t understand what you are trying to tell me.” What if he’s not right in the head? It sometimes happens to older people.
“Mrs. Barnes, Constable Kelly couldn’t see me last evening. He couldn’t see me because…”
Peggy frowns. “Oh Inspector, please do just come out with it. Constable Kelly couldn’t see you because…”
“Mrs. Barnes, please don’t be alarmed, but you’re talking to a spirit. A ghost.”
All right, t
hat’s it then. I’m going to get Joe. This is some kind of a hoax. But to what end?
Peggy rises, but something in the Inspector’s searching look causes her to pause. She studies him carefully; keeps coming back to his eyes, which are regarding her in a thoughtful, kind, but determined manner. He reminds her of her grandfather.
She sits, closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath. Maybe I’m imaging all of this? Am I working too hard? And it has been stressful lately. He’s just a sick, old man. Be kind.
When she opens them, Inspector Geyer is still in his chair. “But Inspector, I can see you. Sitting right here in front of me. My apologies, sir, I don’t want to be unkind, but perhaps you aren’t well? Maybe it would be better if you were to leave.”
“Please, madam, I will leave at your next request, but please hear me out. I beg you. Yes, you can see me, although I'm not sure why. No one ever has before.”
“Are you sure you’re a ghost, Inspector? You’re not perhaps a lunatic are you?” A lunatic wouldn’t know that he was crazy. And if he’s not, then maybe I am? Oh God, what if I’m the one that’s sick in the head?
“Not a lunatic, no. Constable Kelly couldn’t see me sitting here, or hear me talking to you. But I can see you’re not convinced. Perhaps you could ask Constable Kelly to come to confirm it?”
“Yes, that’s an excellent idea.” And he can help me get this madman out of my living room.
As Peggy waits for Joe, she gives her head a shake. It’s too bad, really. He seems so harmless. Quite a courtly gentleman. I feel badly asking him to leave. He’s obviously just a dotty old man, but I can’t have him here with Tommy in the house.
When he arrives in the living room, Peggy links her arm through Joe’s. “Constable Kelly, do you see a man sitting in the chair, over there by the table?”
“No ma’am. Is this a game like charades? Am I supposed to guess?”
Peggy strides over to the chair that the Inspector is sitting in. “This chair, Constable Kelly. Is there a man sitting in this chair?”
“No, ma’am. Still no man. Are you sure you're all right? Perhaps you should go upstairs so that you can rest. I'll lock up and turn out the lights.”
Peggy grabs the back of the chair by its corner. “In this chair. An older man, with a large mustache. A beard. Holding a bowler hat. Surely, you see him?”
“I knew this yesterday. I am not visible to the young Constable,” the Inspector says, shaking his head. “He can’t hear me, either.”
“Okay, Mrs. Barnes,” says Joe. “Please, let’s just go upstairs and you can have a nice lie-down. This has been an upsetting day and you’re not yourself.” He attempts to take her arm.
Peggy shakes him off. “Oh, Constable Kelly—Joe—I am sorry. It’s been a long day and I must have dozed off while reading. It was Mary Shelley’s novel about Frankenstein. I think I’ve given myself the willies. Too many monsters before bed. Of course, there’s no one there. Silly me, you head off now, and don’t worry. I’ll put the book away and not read it again.”
“Well, as long as you’re all right. Goodnight, then,” Joe says.
Peggy waits until she hears Joe’s bedroom door close. She whispers to the Inspector. “Please leave, Inspector Geyer. I’m not sure what is happening, but I must insist that you go. This is all too much for me tonight.” The chances are more in favor of me being crazy than being visited by a ghost. A police ghost, at that.
“Of course, Mrs. Barnes. I am so ashamed to have caused you this deep distress. I apologize most profoundly. I should not have said anything. Please excuse me.”
Out of habit, Peggy stands and follows her guest to the door. “Thank you for coming, Inspector. I hope you’re successful in your efforts to find Oskar. Obviously, we’re both a bit bonkers tonight, but it has been an interesting experience to meet you.”
She pauses by the door and gives a shaky laugh. “And Inspector, I’d really appreciate it if you don’t dissolve through the door. I’m not sure I could handle it.”
“Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Barnes. And again, please accept my apologies. May I beg another indulgence from you? May I call ‘round again tomorrow? Perhaps in the afternoon, when the others are out? I know that it is asking a lot, but this is such an exceptional experience for me, and I would hate to curtail it.”
Peggy pauses, her head tipped to one side, regarding the man. “Oh, it is exceptional for me as well, Inspector. Tomorrow afternoon, then.” She opens the door. “Good night, Inspector.”
I must be crazy. Just bonkers. Mad as a hatter. Who will take care of Tommy when they take me away? Peggy closes the door and locks it.
Chapter 13
Peggy tosses and turns all night, worrying about her state of mind, trying to decide if the Inspector is the crazy one. The sheets twist, wrapping her tightly. At one point, she gets out of bed and goes downstairs to check the lock at the front door.
As the sun rises, Peggy gives up trying to sleep and starts her day. The lodgers head off to work. Tommy goes off to school. She clings to the comfort of routine. Peggy does not want to be crazy. She does not want there to be a ghost. Which would be the lesser of two evils? She tunes in to the radio for company and for distraction; keeps herself busy through the day, indulging Tommy with a heartier lunch than usual.
She has almost dismissed the bizarre events from the previous evening until she sees Inspector Geyer on the sidewalk in front of her house. It is a perfectly normal, sunny afternoon. He looks as real as anyone.
Peggy hurries to the front door, unsure of whom she’ll be inviting in: a lunatic, a senile old man, a con artist, a ghost, a figment of her own imagination? She takes a deep breath and opens the door.
Inspector Geyer slowly climbs the steps to the veranda, leaning heavily on his walking stick. “I wasn’t sure if I should come. I feel that I’m being selfish, imposing myself on you again.”
“Nonsense, Inspector. I spent all night thinking of our conversation and look forward to continuing it in the bright light of day. I would like to make some sense of it. And of course, I also appreciate your insight into Oskar’s disappearance. As to the other? Well, I guess I’ll wait and see. Neither one of us was at our best last night.”
“Yes, quite,” Frank says with a smile.
Forcing the guise of normalcy over the visit, Peggy comments on the weather as they settle into their chairs with coffee. She shares how worried Tommy is. It has tugged at her heart to see her son’s distress. She leaves space for the Inspector to explain the unexplainable.
“I don’t know how I can describe it, Mrs. Barnes. Ten years ago, I died in my own bed. I believed in heaven, in God, in an afterlife. But this,” he opens his arms wide, “is not that.”
The clock ticks. Peggy knows time is passing. There is relief that she is not imagining him. No figment of imagination could be so convincing, with such a kind face. The dialect and his clothing reflect another era. He wears his police authority as comfortably as his jacket.
“Since that time I continue to see, to reason, to contemplate. To be. I am a man as I have always been, with one notable exception. I have no physical form. I am just…” He shrugs again, his arms still open wide. “I am just here.”
The Inspector stares at his hands. “I’m a policeman, Mrs. Barnes, not a theologian. I’ve never been anything else but a policeman. I like facts. I like puzzles that I can solve. I like things to be black and white, concrete. I don’t like this. I don’t understand this.”
The old man’s abstract musings swirl around the room. Slowly, one of his statements settles into Peggy’s consciousness. “You died in your bed? Ten years ago?”
“Yes, of old age apparently. Much older than I appear now.” He smiles, and pats his stomach.
“How can you be younger than when you died? And why are you here in my living room?”
“Beyond vanity? Perhaps my purpose requires me to be more in my prime and not at the age I was when I died. After much thought, I’m convinced tha
t I am meant to find out what happened to Oskar. Like an old dog, I’ve caught the scent. Despite hoping to the contrary, I’m sure that his disappearance is nefarious, and I believe I am supposed to bring the criminals to justice.”
“But how will you do that, being a ghost, and invisible?” Peggy asks. With every creak and groan of the settling house, Peggy glances around; should anyone see her now, they would think she was crazy, chatting away in an empty room.
“It has been a challenge,” says the Inspector. “I had never fully appreciated the advantages of the physical form, and I envy you. You can talk to another person, you can lift a piece of paper or turn a page, you can knock on a door, you can hold a child’s hand.” He sighs. “I miss being able to touch.” He extends his hand out then lets it fall into his lap.
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