Chasing Ghosts

by Madalyn Morgan

  ‘Negotiate? I’m going in. I want my father and mother out of there.’

  ‘We would rather you didn’t go inside the house,’ Chief Jacobs said. ‘Our experts think it will be too dangerous. We can’t protect you if we can’t see you.’

  ‘And I can’t see any other way of getting my parents out. And, since it is because of me that they are in this situation, I shall do what Beckman wants.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’

  ‘A trade. Me for them.’

  Claire heard Chief Jacobs suck his teeth. ‘Once Alain is inside he’ll be able to separate Beckman from the nurse,’ she said.

  ‘How?’

  ‘Accuse the nurse of killing Beckman’s secretary.’

  ‘She’ll deny it,’ Alain added, ‘but played right, she’ll turn against Beckman.’

  ‘But she did kill the secretary. We found--’

  ‘My wife and I have met Nurse Bryant, and neither of us believes she is capable of murder. We think Beckman killed his secretary and planted the watch and uniform. Then, when the secretary’s body was found, the evidence would point to the nurse and not to him.’

  ‘And the only thing Beckman would be guilty of was having an affair with a nurse who was obsessed with him, jealous of his secretary, and killed her,’ Claire said.

  ‘A woman scorned, huh?’ The chief shook his head.

  ‘The nurse would hang and Beckman would have got away with murder.’

  ‘Again!’ Mitch said.

  ‘But when Nurse Bryant finds out the man she loves has framed her for the murder of his secretary - who we, Alain, will hint he was also having an affair with - she will turn against him.’

  ‘And once she knows he’s a murdering Nazi she’ll testify against him in court.’ Chief Jacob’s broad red face lit up at the prospect. ‘Let me discuss it with my negotiators, Captain. I’ll be back in the morning to take you to your parents house.’ He looked at the two air force officers. ‘Someone will stand guard outside the door all night?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ they both said.

  ‘Right! Then I shall leave you. You need to eat,’ he said, looking from Claire to Alain. ‘I would rather you didn’t leave the suite. Order food from room service and get an early night. Tomorrow looks like it’s going to be a long day.’

  Claire fell onto the settee and Alain went over to the telephone. ‘What do you want to eat, honey?’

  ‘Whatever you’re having, I don’t care,’ Claire said, resting her head on the back of the settee.

  ‘Officers, can I get you anything?’ Alain said, picking up the telephone.

  ‘No, Sir. Thank you, we--’

  ‘I’ll order for four. If you’re going to be here all night you need to eat... Hi, this is room 642. Can I get chicken and French fries for four? Bread, cheese and some pancakes with bacon and maple syrup. A pot of coffee and a bottle of Canadian Club. Could you bring the coffee and the CC up straight away? That’s great.’ He returned the receiver to the telephone’s base. ‘The drinks are coming up now. The food will be half an hour.’

  The coffee and the whiskey arrived within a few minutes. Claire poured four cups of coffee and Alain poured the whiskey. ‘No alcohol for us,’ Officer Boucher said, ‘but a coffee would be welcome.’

  When they were seated with their drinks, Claire and Officer Boucher in two armchairs by the window, the men on dining chairs at a small table, Alain asked Officer Lloyd if he could get some money changed from French francs into Canadian dollars. The officer said he was sure the hotel would change the money. If they wouldn’t he would go to the bank first thing in the morning.

  Officer Boucher asked Claire if there was anything she needed. ‘Yes,’ Claire said, ‘Clothes.’ She jumped up and went over to her handbag, which she had dropped next to her suitcase when she arrived. She grabbed the bag and returned to her chair. ‘I have been living out of a suitcase, rotating the same clothes for months. Is there anywhere near here where I can buy a couple of skirts and blouses, a suit or a thin sweater?’ She took her purse from her handbag and counted her money. ‘For a hundred and twenty francs.’

  ‘I know just the place,’ Officer Boucher said. ‘What’s your dress size?’

  ‘In England I’m a twenty-two-inch waist. I have no idea how that translates over here.’ Claire took a step back and looked at the young Canadian officer. ‘We’re about the same dress size. If it fits you, I’m sure it will fit me.’

  ‘Colour preference?’

  Claire could see a wisp of light brown hair poking out from under Officer Boucher’s hat. ‘Whatever suits you will be fine.’ She gave the officer a hundred francs. ‘I’ll keep twenty in case there’s an emergency. Unless you need more--’ The officer put up her hand.

  While they waited for the food to arrive, Alain and Officer Lloyd talked about the changes to both Canada and Europe since the end of the war, and Claire opened the suitcases. Alain’s clothes were crumpled because he had thrown them into the suitcase without folding them. On closer inspection, she could see they were clean and only needed a shake before she hung them up.

  Her clothes, on the other hand, although folded neatly, had been worn several times while she had been in France. They all needed to be washed or taken to a commercial dry-cleaning shop. ‘Do you think the hotel will have these cleaned for me?’

  Officer Boucher stood up. ‘They will, Mrs Mitchell. I’ll go down and get a couple of laundry bags from reception. If you’d like to give me your francs, sir?’ she said to Alain, ‘I’ll see if I can get them changed for you while I’m down there.’

  Alain took a wad of notes from his pocket, and Officer Boucher counted them. ‘Two hundred and eighty francs.’ She put the money in the breast pocket of her uniform and buttoned it. ‘I won’t be long.’

  Officer Boucher returned as a waiter was wheeling in the evening meal. She quickly went over to the two piles of clothes that Claire had put outside the bathroom door, put garments to be laundered in one bag and those needing to be dry cleaned in the other. ‘I’ll pop these down to reception,’ she said to Officer Lloyd, ‘I shan’t be long.’

  By the time Officer Boucher returned, her male counterpart had eaten and was standing guard outside the door. Officer Boucher snacked on bread and cheese, drank a cup of coffee and then joined him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  The telephone extension in the bedroom rang, waking Claire from a deep sleep. Eyes barely open, she squinted at Mitch. He was nearest to it. She nudged him but he didn’t wake. She turned over, reached out and took her wristwatch from her bedside table. It was eight o’clock. They had overslept. She leapt out of bed, went round to Mitch’s bedside table and picked up the telephone. ‘Hello? Yes. Let yourself in, will you? Thanks.’ She put down the receiver. ‘Mitch,’ she said, shaking him by the shoulder. ‘Mitch, darling?’ she said again, ‘it’s time to get up.’

  ‘Where’s the fire?’ he said, turning over and pulling the sheets over his head.

  ‘It’s gone eight. Come on.’

  Claire dragged on her dressing gown and opened the door. Officer Boucher stood in the sitting room with navy blue slacks and jacket, and a pale blue sweater over her arm. In her hand was a paper bag. ‘Shoes,’ she said. ‘Navy to match the pants. It all fits me. Fingers crossed it will fit you.’

  Claire took the trousers and jacket from the officer and held them up. ‘They’re lovely. How on earth did you get a shop to open for you at this hour of the day?’

  ‘The owner of the shop is a friend. Ex-air force. I called her when I took the washing down last night and she opened up for me at seven.’

  ‘Thank her for me, will you?’ Claire tried on the new clothes. ‘They fit perfectly,’ she said. ‘I can’t keep calling you Officer Boucher. What’s your Christian name?’

  ‘Céline, but I’m not sure it’s protocol to--’

  ‘Céline it is.’

  The young RCAF officer laughed. ‘The car to take Captain Mitchell to his father’s house wi
ll be here at nine.’

  Claire returned to the bedroom to wake Mitch. He was in the bathroom. ‘A car will be here at nine,’ she said, standing beside him as he cleaned his teeth.

  ‘Huh-huh!’

  ‘I’m coming with you.’

  Mitch put down his toothbrush and spat out a mouthful of toothpaste. ‘You are not!’

  Claire followed him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. ‘I’ll stay out of your way. You won’t know I’m there.’ He didn’t answer. ‘Mitch?’

  ‘No, Claire!’ he shouted. ‘It’s out of the question. Jacob’s won’t allow it, you know damn well he won’t. And I don’t want you there either. I don’t want to have to worry about you.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Claire put up her hands. ‘There’s no need to shout! Damn!’ Claire said, as the door closed. After using the bathroom, she dressed in the clothes Céline Boucher had brought her, put on her makeup and left the bedroom.

  They ate breakfast in silence. When they had finished, Claire said, ‘I’m sorry, darling. I was only trying to help.’ She reached across the table to take Mitch’s hand. At the same moment he picked up the napkin to wipe his mouth. Her hand dropped to the table.

  ‘I know you want to be there,’ he said, looking into her eyes, ‘part of me wants you there, but--’

  Dare she hope her husband was coming round to the idea of her going with him? She needed to tread carefully. ‘A man and a woman holding someone hostage needs a man and a woman to go in--’

  ‘And, you have had more experience dealing with guys like Beckman.’

  Claire wasn’t going to remind him of that, but it was true. During the war, when Mitch had been captured and imprisoned, she had worked solidly with the Resistance. She poured them both a cup of coffee. ‘I’ll see what the chief says, honey.’ Claire knew the Chief of Police wouldn’t like the idea. She also knew asking him was the best her husband could do.

  She was right. Chief Jacobs didn’t like the idea. His reply to Mitch when he mentioned Claire going with him to his parents house was a categorical No!

  ‘It’s time we left,’ Chief Jacobs said, walking to the door.

  Claire threw her arm around Mitch’s neck. She kissed him on his lips and cheek, before burying her face in his neck and kissing him again, loudly. It had the desired effect. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the chief turn to his sergeant and shake his head.

  ‘I shan’t be far behind you,’ Claire whispered. Mitch sighed. She couldn’t tell whether he was sighing because he thought it was good that she was going to follow him, or bad. She let her arms drop to her sides, took a step back, and looked into his eyes.

  A faint smile played on Mitch’s lips and he said, ‘See you later, China.’

  ‘My husband agrees I should go with him,’ Claire told Officer Boucher, when Mitch and Chief Jacobs had left. Officer Boucher listened. Her forehead was lined and her eyebrows seemed close together, but she didn’t comment. ‘A hostage situation, where a coldblooded murderer is calling the shots, is beyond dangerous for one person to try and defuse,’ Claire went on. ‘It will take two people if everyone is to get out alive.

  ‘Mitch’s only concern,’ she said, her voice almost a whisper, ‘is what will happen to our daughter if we were both--’

  ‘Killed?’ Officer Boucher said.

  ‘The chances of that, Céline,’ Claire purposely used the officer’s first name to show friendship and solidarity, ‘are almost nil when two trained--’ She stopped. Should she tell Officer Boucher about her and Mitch’s jobs in the war? She decided for the moment, not to. ‘As I was saying, Mitch was worried about our daughter if anything happened to me-- or both of us.’ Officer Boucher nodded sympathetically. ‘What worries me,’ Claire said, ‘is Mitch going into a hostage situation on his own with a Nazi killer and a woman who loves him - worships him - and I expect would do anything for him; a woman who might already have killed for him. That makes it a very dangerous situation and is more likely to get Mitch killed.’

  Officer Boucher nodded, again. Claire couldn’t read what the nodding meant. She was wasting time by trying.

  ‘I’m going to Mitch’s father’s house. I am not having my husband risk his life with that monster Beckman when I know a sure way of helping him.’

  Céline Boucher stood up and crossed to the door. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Mitchell, my orders are not to let you leave the room.’

  ‘Then you’d better restrain me because if you don’t I will leave. Céline, I love my husband, we have been through a great deal together.’ She left her seat, walked over to the door and stood next to the officer. Careful not to stand too close in case she felt intimidated, Claire decided it was now time to tell Céline Boucher about the work she and Mitch had done in the war. ‘Mitch and I were members of the Special Operations Executive. We were dropped into German-occupied France and from forty-two to forty-five worked undercover with the French Resistance. Mitch was captured by the Gestapo and put in prison. Heinrich Beckman was the doctor in that prison. He will, if he gets the chance, kill Mitch. You see, Mitch recognised him and has exposed him. And Beckman knows, if he doesn’t get out of the situation he’s in, he’ll be taken back to France, tried for murder, and hanged.’

  ‘Good God, I--’

  ‘No one knows the relationship between my husband and Beckman except Chief Jacobs and your commanding officer.’ Claire returned to her chair and Céline Boucher followed. ‘I don’t want to get you into trouble, Céline, but I intend to leave here, with or without your help.’ Claire liked Céline Boucher and hoped it was going to be with her help.

  Céline gave Claire a wry smile. ‘I know for a fact that my superior at St. Hubert, Captain Hillier, is in a meeting all morning. So, I am going to ring his office and when his secretary tells me he is in a meeting and is not to be disturbed, I shall apologise. When she asks me if she can take a message there will be a problem with the telephone. So, since I am the senior officer here and I can’t get in touch with my superior, whether you follow your husband or not is up to me.’

  Claire reached out and took Céline Boucher’s hands. ‘You could get in trouble, couldn’t you?’

  The young officer raised her eyebrows. ‘I’ll be court marshalled for disobeying orders, so you’ll have to overpower me and tie me up,’ she said, with a glint in her eye. ‘First, let me call my superior officer.’

  Céline Boucher picked up the telephone on the table by the window and asked to be put through to St. Hubert Airforce base. When she was connected, she asked to speak to Captain Hillier and was put through to his secretary. ‘Miss Elliott, it’s Officer Boucher here. Would you patch me through to Captain Hillier? Oh, he’s still in the meeting, is he? What? Oh, but there’s--’ She looked at Claire and bit her lip. ‘Sir? Yes. I’m sorry to disturb you while you’re in a meeting, but Captain Mitchell’s wife has given me the slip. She-- Yes, Sir… No, Sir... Yes, straight away. Thank you, Sir.’ Officer Boucher put down the telephone, put her hand up to her mouth and giggled.

  ‘He said I was to go after you and when I caught up with you I wasn’t to let you out of my sight. “Stick to her like glue!” were his exact words. Well, what are you waiting for, Mrs Mitchell? If we’re going we’d better look sharp. We’ll hail a taxi in the street.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  The taxi dropped Claire and Officer Boucher off several streets away from Alain and Marie Mitchell’s house. It was the nearest the taxi could get. ‘Sorry I can’t take you any further,’ the driver said when Claire paid him. ‘Some guy has gone nuts and is holding an old couple hostage. Everyone around here has been evacuated.’ He offered her fifty cents change.

  ‘Keep it,’ Claire said. The two women made their way to Mitch’s father’s house. Claire had been there more than a dozen times during the three months that she, Mitch and Aimée had lived in Canada.

  Claire was conscious of the heels of her shoes clip-clopping along the pavement of the empty streets. ‘It’s like a ghost town,’ she
said. Turning the corner into the long road where her in-laws lived, she stopped. Fifty yards ahead armed officers and air force personnel were crouched behind a dozen police cars and military vehicles.

  She quickly took the paved path to the back of the first house. Céline Boucher followed.

  ‘Damn! There’s no way I can climb over all these fences,’ she said, ‘it would take me forever to get to the Mitchell house.’

  ‘Look!’ Céline pointed to a narrow lane running along the side of the garden. ‘That, if I am not mistaken, is the beginning of a service road.’

  Claire followed Céline out of the garden and turned right onto the narrow strip of tarmac. Keeping low, they ran until they were at the back of Alain’s father’s house. ‘Céline, I appreciate you coming with me, but now I think you should go,’ Claire said, ‘I’m going to try to get close to the house, have a look through the windows. I can’t do it if I’m worrying about you.’

  ‘I’ll wait here.’

  ‘No. It would be more helpful if you went back to the road and approached the house from the front. Make sure Mitch sees you, then he’ll know I’m here. Stay there ten, fifteen minutes and then come back. But stay on the service road, we can’t risk Beckman looking out of an upstairs window and seeing you, or my plan will be blown.’

  Céline thought for a moment, then said, ‘Okay. But be careful.’

  ‘I will.’ The two women embraced, then went their separate ways.

  Claire waited until Céline had reached the end of the service road before opening the back gate. Making herself as small as she was able, she crept into the garden. The trees and shrubs, only just coming into bud, gave little cover. She moved swiftly from one shrub to another until she came to the garden shed. Suddenly aware that she had been holding her breath, she relaxed and exhaled. Standing upright, with her back pressed against the wall, she sidestepped along the length of the shed until she arrived at the front. She stopped and poked her head around the corner.