Alfred Hitchcock’s A Hangman’s Dozen

The Forgiving Ghost C. B. Gilford

Not all ghosts, I assure you, are friendly or forgiving or translucent. Some are ghostly. Others are just plain ghastly — and give ghosts, generally, a bad name.

The murder — although Claude Crispin, the murderer, was the only one who knew that that’s what it was — occurred in broad daylight, in bright sunshine. But not, of course, within view of any casual spectators. Nobody saw it; so everybody took it for what Claude Crispin said it was, an accident.

The first that any outsiders knew of it was when Claude Crispin raced his motor boat in from the center of the lake, and started shouting and waving his arms at the nearby joy riders and water skiers. He told them something about his wife’s falling in the water and his not being able to find her.

Immediately, all the boats — some with their skiers still dangling behind them — raced for the spot. They found it when they found the swimming dog. Momo was the belligerent little Pekingese which had belonged to Mrs. Crispin. Claude babbled something to the searchers about how the dog had fallen into the water, and Mrs. Crispin had jumped in to save her. Here was the dog still swimming, of course, but there was no sign of the mistress.

Somebody apparently thought that as long as they were there, they might as well save the dog. So Momo was pulled aboard one of the boats, where she showed her gratitude by shaking the water out of her fur rather indiscriminately and snarling at her rescuers. Claude looked especially askance at that part of the operation. Now that the Pekingese had provided the visible reason why Mrs. Crispin, a poor swimmer, had been in the water at all, he would really have preferred to let her drown.

Meanwhile, nearly all the other occupants of the boats had jumped into the water and were doing a lot of diving and splashing around. Claude, watching them, wrung his hands, wore an anguished expression, and generally gave the appearance of an anxious, worrying, tragic husband.

They were at it for some twenty minutes. But at the end of that time everyone was pretty well exhausted, and even the most enthusiastic divers were ready to admit that they weren’t going to find Mrs. Crispin either dead or alive. When they related this fact to Claude, he burst into tears and started to shake so violently that a stranger had to climb into his boat and steer it back to shore for him.

Thereafter, it became an official matter. The sheriff was summoned and he came out to the lake with a couple of his deputies. Preparation got underway for a dragging operation. The sheriff himself, a kindly, sympathetic man, sat down with Claude and got the whole story from him.

Yes, the Crispins were city folks, Claude said, and they’d vacationed for several summers at this lake. One of their favorite pastimes had been to rent a motor boat and cruise aimlessly around. Claude was a pretty fair swimmer, though he didn’t get much practice these days. Mrs. Crispin wasn’t afraid of the water, but she’d been a very poor swimmer.

“Why didn’t she wear a life jacket, like the rules say?” the sheriff demanded, but without too much harshness.

Claude shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “You know how women are,” he answered. “My wife had a very good figure, looked fine in a bathing suit. So she was always interested in getting a tan. If she’d worn one of those jackets, it would have covered her up and she wouldn’t have gotten the tan. So she just left the jacket in the bottom of the boat. Vanity, I guess you’d call it.”

The sheriff nodded sagely. “And you say she jumped in on account of the dog?”

Claude let himself sound bitter. “She loved that dog as much as if it had been a kid. Took it with her everywhere. Don’t ask me how the dog fell overboard, though. Usually my wife carried it around in her arms. But this time she was letting it ride up front by itself. I don’t know whether it fell or jumped. The thing never seemed to have much sense. But there it was in the water suddenly, and my wife started screaming. Now, I’d have stopped the boat and jumped in after it myself, but my wife didn’t wait even to ask me. The next thing I knew she was gone too. I slowed the boat down and did a U-turn, but by the time I got back to the place, my wife had already disappeared. I cut the motor and went in after her, but I never did see her. I don’t know what happened. She was just gone.”

The sheriff seemed to understand. “Sometimes,” he said, “when a poor swimmer jumps into deep water, gets a cramp or something, he just sinks to the bottom and never does come up. I guess it was one of those cases.”

And that was the verdict. Probably because the idea never once crossed his mind, the sheriff didn’t even mention murder.

Though he’d gotten rid of his wife, Claude Crispin still had his wife’s prized possession, Momo. Sometime later that same afternoon Momo’s rescuer returned her to Claude, clean, dry, but in no better humor.

The instant the dog was brought into the one-room cottage, she began an immediate sniffing search for her mistress. When the mistress couldn’t be found, she set up a mournful, yelping wail. Claude, alone now and able to vent his true feelings, aimed a kick which almost landed, and which was close enough to send the animal scurrying into a safe corner to cogitate upon what had gone wrong with the world.

“Alvina is dead,” Claude explained happily and maliciously.

The dog blinked and stared.

“I guess for the moment,” Claude went on, “I’ve got to endure you. I’m supposed to be so broken up about the accident that I’ve got to pretend that I’m cherishing you as my remembrance of my poor dead wife. It won’t last though, I can promise you that. Your days are numbered.”

Momo whined softly and seemed to be looking around for a route of escape.

Claude smiled. He felt good, very satisfied with himself. “Ought to be grateful to you though, oughtn’t I, Momo? You were a very convenient gimmick. But don’t think that’s going to do you any good once we’re away from this place. You swim too well, Momo, so I won’t try a lake on you. Some little something in your hamburger maybe, and then you can fertilize my garden. As soon as we get home, Momo.”

The dog cringed and lay down with her head between her paws. She’d endured unkind remarks from Claude before, and now the threat in his tone was unmistakable.

Claude lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. He had really and truly had a hard day. There’d been the strain and excitement of planning, the deed itself, and then the display of grief all afternoon. It had been rewarding, but quite wearing, too. He felt like sleep.

That was when the dog yelped. Claude had begun to drift off, and the noise woke him. Cursing, he sat up and looked toward the corner where he’d last seen Momo. The dog was still there, but not cringing any longer. Instead, Momo was standing up shakily on her hind legs, her tail wagging, her eyes shining. In fact, she was the very picture of canine ecstasy.

“Hello, Claude.”

The voice was a familiar one. Alvina’s voice. At first he was sure that he was either dreaming or imagining. He blinked his eyes, striving to come fully awake. But then he knew somehow that he was already awake, and he looked in the direction the dog was looking.

Alvina was standing there!

Not all wet and dripping, her hair tangled with seaweed. Not even in the bathing suit and bandana she’d last worn. This Alvina was quite dry, lipsticked and powdered, and in a gay little flowered frock he’d never even seen before. Her blue eyes were bright; her blond hair was shining; and she stood just inside the door of the cottage, although Claude was quite sure that the door had neither opened nor closed.

“Claude, I said hello, and you haven’t even answered me.” Then she smiled, as if she’d suddenly remembered something. “Oh, of course. You’re dreadfully surprised. You hadn’t expected to see me ever again.”

Claude stated the incredible. “You’re alive!”

“Oh no, Claude, I’m a ghost.”

Instinctively he looked to Momo for confirmation. She wasn’t, however, howling with fear as dogs are supposed to do in the presence of the supernatural. Instead, she was still wagging her tail, quite as if she too saw and recognized Alvina. But the strangest fact of all was that, although Momo obviously was aware of the presence of her mistress, and would normally have run to Alvina to be picked up and petted, now she seemed to realize that this visitor was not the sort who could pick up and pet even the smallest dog. In other words, Claude reflected as he tried to sort out his thoughts — Momo knew it was Alvina and yet wasn’t Alvina, a friendly spirit but a spirit nevertheless.

But Claude still found this hard to believe. “Are you sure you’re a real ghost? I mean...”

“Of course I’m a real ghost. I’d have to be, wouldn’t I? I’m certainly not alive. Because you killed me. Remember, Claude?”

“It was an accident,” he started to say automatically.

“Oh, for pity’s sake, Claude,” she interrupted him. “I should know, shouldn’t I? I was there. It was murder. You pushed me in, dear, and then you held my head under water.”

It wasn’t till then that Claude began to wonder, not whether this was really Alvina’s ghost, but more as to what Alvina’s ghost was doing here. And with the curiosity came just a little tingle of fear.

“I swear to you, Alvina,” he began again.

“Darling, I know it was murder, and everybody where I came from knows it was murder. Only people who’ve been murdered get to come back as ghosts. Or didn’t you know that?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” he admitted.

She threw back her head and laughed. It was Alvina’s old laugh, tinkling and silvery. Momo barked in happy accompaniment to it. “Maybe you wouldn’t have murdered me if you’d known that, eh, Claude?”

He decided he’d better be frank and honest. There wasn’t much choice. “You are rather frightening,” he said.

She crossed the room and sat down on the corner of the bed. Appropriately enough, he noticed, she seemed utterly weightless, and the corner didn’t sag at all under her.

“Poor Claude,” she said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. But as I said, murdered people do have the privilege of coming back, and I just couldn’t resist the opportunity.”

He was beginning to take a little courage now from her mild manner. “Why did you come back, Alvina?”

“We parted so suddenly, dear. There wasn’t time to discuss anything.”

“What is there to discuss?”

“Well, Momo, for instance.” At the mention of her name, the Pekingese wagged her tail. “Claude darling, I know you had reason to hate me, but I hope that feeling of yours doesn’t extend to that innocent little dog.”

Remembering his conversation with Momo of just a few minutes past, Claude felt himself blushing guiltily. “Momo really will never be happy with you gone, Alvina,” he evaded.

“She can be happy if you’ll try to make her happy. I know how you two have always been enemies, but it was your fault, Claude, not Momo’s. Promise me you’ll try to make friends with her. Promise me you’ll take good care of her. She’s an orphan now, you know, thanks to you. Will you promise me, Claude?”

Claude grabbed at the chance of getting off so easy. “I promise, I solemnly promise,” he said.

“Thank you, Claude,” she answered, and she seemed very sincere.

They sat in silence for a moment then. Alvina’s ghostly eyes gazed on Claude almost affectionately. He tried to reciprocate, but found the situation a bit strained.

“Well, was that all you wanted?” he asked finally. “I mean, now that we’ve agreed about the dog, I suppose that puts your spirit at rest, Alvina, and now you’ll be content to...”

He stopped fumbling. What he wanted to say, of course, was that ghosts — even apparently friendly ones — made him nervous, and he’d prefer that she return to her watery grave and stay there. Saying it would have been impolite, however, and perhaps — he still wasn’t sure of her attitude — a trifle dangerous.

“You’ve been very sweet, Claude,” she said. “And I do feel a lot better now that I know Momo will be well taken care of. I’m so grateful to you.”

If she was going to become so polite and sentimental and easy to get along with, he could afford to be decent himself. “Look, Alvina, I’m sorry...”

She leaned a little closer to him, and a little ghostly frown creased her brow. “Oh, no, don’t say that, darling. You have no reason to be sorry. I deserved what I got.”

“You think so?” Surprise was building on surprise.

“I know so. I deserved to be murdered. I was simply an awful wife to you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Alvina.”

“But it’s true. I’d become quite a witch. I didn’t realize it when I was alive, but I see it all clearly now. I was selfish and headstrong and quarrelsome. I always wanted my own way, and I made a scene if I didn’t get it. And worst of all I wasn’t loving enough. Don’t you completely agree on my little catalogue, dear?”

“Well, yes...”

“So you were quite justified in doing what you did, Claude. Isn’t that so?”

“Alvina!”

“I mean it, Claude. I mean it absolutely. I deserved to get murdered.”

“Well now, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.”

“It’s the truth. So I want to tell you this, darling. And I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I forgive you completely.”

He stared at her incredulously. There was a little tingling in him again. Not from incipient fear as before. From what then? He wasn’t quite sure. But when someone is so generous and tolerant... well, it just gives one a funny feeling, that’s all.

“Gee, Alvina...” he started to say.

But she was gone. Momo was whining piteously, and frantically running about the room from wall to wall, searching for something that was surely no longer there.

“Don’t bring that dog in my apartment,” Elise said. She was in purple toreador trousers today and stood with her hands on her hips barring the passage. Her dark hair waved behind her as she shook her head.

“But, angel,” Claude Crispin said, “it’s my wife’s dog.”

“I know that,” Elise snapped. “But I don’t like dogs, and I liked your former wife even less.”

“But, angel, I couldn’t leave the dog at home alone. And I’ve got to take care of it.”

“Why?” The electricity in Elise’s dark eyes crackled. “Why don’t you just get rid of it?”

“I promised...”

“You what?”

“Well, I sort of made a secret promise after my wife died. It was the least I could do. After all, I owed her something. Try to understand, angel. Don’t be cruel. We have gained quite a bit, you know. There’ll be no more interference. I’m free. Just the two of us...”

“Three,” she corrected him. “You and me and the dog.”

“But we’re better off than before, aren’t we? We’ve made progress. Please let me in, angel.”

She hesitated for another long moment, scorning him with her eyes. Then, abruptly, she turned and walked away, leaving the passage free for him to enter. He slipped in, bringing Momo on her leash, and closed the door behind him.

Gaining admittance didn’t make Momo happy. She lay down just inside the door, watching Claude reproachfully, and making small glum sounds. But Claude ignored the dog, and followed Elise to the sofa, where he sat down close but without touching her.

“You took your sweet time coming to see me,” Elise said viciously.

“Angel, I had to be discreet. I’m a widower. I’m supposed to be in mourning. I explained that to you.”

“Three whole months. Did it have to be that long?”

“Maybe I was trying to be too cautious.”

“You certainly were.”

“Forgive me, angel.” He put his arms out for her, but she squirmed away. “Won’t you forgive me? I was tom between caution and passion, believe me, angel.”

“And the caution won.”

“All right. But it’s over now. Let’s make up for lost time.”

“I’m afraid I’m not in the mood, Claude.”

“Elise, I went through an awful lot for you. I took big chances. Seems you ought to forgive me a little caution in a case like this.”

“I’ll forgive you nothing. You’ll have to learn you can’t toy with my affections this way, Claude Crispin. You can’t leave me dangling for three whole months...”

Elise’s bitter speech was interrupted suddenly by a sharp bark from Momo. Distracted, Claude looked at the dog. He found her sitting up, eyes bright, tail wagging. And Alvina was sitting in the chair opposite them.

“So this is the woman you murdered me for, Claude,” she said.

“Alvina!” he breathed.

“Did you call me Alvina?” Elise demanded.

“Darling,” Alvina explained, “she can’t see me. So don’t make her think you’ve gone crazy by talking to someone she doesn’t know is here. I’ll be very quiet. You just go ahead with what you were doing.”

“Claude, what’s the matter with you?” Elise wanted to know.

“Nothing. I’m just a little upset, I guess.”

“She’s very pretty, Claude,” Alvina commented. “Much prettier than I was. Different type, too. More exciting and romantic.”

“Look, Elise,” Claude said, hastily rising from the sofa, “I think I’d better go home. I don’t feel well.”

“Go home? You just got here, and I haven’t seen you for three months.”

Alvina sighed audibly. “She’s the demanding sort, isn’t she, Claude? I guess that makes women more desirable. I wish I could have been more that way.”

“Elise.” Claude was confusedly fumbling now. “Maybe some other time...”

“Claude, you stay here, or it’s all over with us.”

“But you don’t want me, Elise. You’re angry with me.”

“You’re so right. And I’m going to keep on being angry with you till you apologize.”

“All right, I apologize.”

“That’s better.”

“Am I forgiven then?”

“That will take some time. You’ll have to make it up to me. I’ve sat around here waiting for you for three long months, and you’ll have to make that up to me.”

“She’s very demanding, isn’t she?” Alvina said. “Is that what makes her so interesting, Claude?”

“That doesn’t make her interesting!” Claude shouted.

“Claude,” Elise screamed, “don’t shout at met And besides, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Then she stood up, too, facing Claude angrily. “You don’t show up for three months. Then you come here without a decent explanation and you talk gibberish.”

“Angel...”

“Don’t angel me!”

“Is it presents you want, Elise? What can I do? Just tell me. I want to take up where we left off. I went through so much. You know what I did.”

“I know nothing of the sort, Claude. Don’t try to implicate me.”

“But you’re in it as much as I am.”

“Oh, no, I’m not. It was your idea, and you went through with it all alone.”

“But you approved, angel. You wanted me to do it.”

“Claude, if that’s what you came here for, to tell me I’m just as guilty as you are, then you can leave.”

Without waiting for him to accept her invitation, she turned from him and walked away, through the bedroom door, which she slammed behind her. Claude stood open-mouthed in the center of the living room, and Momo barked joyously.

“Poor girl,” Alvina said, “she feels guilty. That’s what’s upsetting her so. I’m sure she’s not like this normally. Claude, I want you to tell her that I’ve not only forgiven you, but I’ve forgiven her, too.”

Claude sat down on the sofa again, heavily, wearily. “Thanks, Alvina. That’s mighty decent of you.”

“I’m sure the impression I just got of her is inaccurate.”

“I’m afraid it isn’t,” Claude admitted with a frown. “She’s headstrong. She’s quarrelsome. She’s tremendously selfish.”

“But, darling, those are the very things that were wrong with me. Oh, I wish there was something I could do. The trouble is, you see, that ghosts can haunt only their murderers, and strictly speaking, Elise isn’t even an accomplice. But I wish I could talk to her, and tell her everything I’ve learned. Because basically I think she must be a very nice girl. When are you going to get married, Claude?”

“Married?” The word startled him somehow.

“You did intend to marry her, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yes, she’s always insisted on it. On her own terms, of course. The trouble is that now I don’t know what her terms are.”

“That makes her mysterious, darling. And mystery is so attractive.”

“Look here, Alvina.” He rose from the sofa again, greatly disturbed. “Are you trying to encourage me?”

“Darling,” she remonstrated, “you went to an awful lot of trouble murdering me. I think you should get your reward. And if Elise is what you want, then I want her for you. You see, Claude, I still have your interests at heart. And, well, I must confess...”

“What, Alvina?”

“A little soft spot, I guess you’d call it.”

“Really? That’s very generous of you.”

“Oh, no, it’s still selfish, I’m afraid,” she answered softly. “Sometimes, Claude, I have the very selfish yearning for another chance. If I could just get another body or something and come back to you, I’m sure I could do a much better job of making you happy than I did before.”

He felt terribly embarrassed, felt he ought to do something or say something, but he didn’t know what. Poor Alvina... but he didn’t want to say that.

She was gazing tenderly up at him. “Oh, dam,” she said, “I’m afraid I’m going to cry. Good-by, darling. Good luck, too.”

Then once again, and as suddenly as before, she was gone. Momo began to whine pitifully and lonesomely. And Claude Crispin felt pretty much the same.

Alvina was home waiting for him, when he returned from one of his many unsatisfactory visits to Elise’s apartment. He’d left Elise in a rage, but here was Alvina placidly curled up in her favorite old chair and giving him a smile of welcome. He felt almost glad to see her. It had been over two weeks.

“How’s Elise, darling? I didn’t want to be a busybody and poke my nose in there, but I am concerned.”

“Well, she still can’t stand the dog.”

Momo barked in confirmation.

“And even though I’ve gone to see her every day since, she still hasn’t forgiven me for staying away for three months.”

“Darling, she’s just as unreasonable as I was, isn’t she? That’s too bad. I wish you could find someone more suitable. You know, it’s too bad you can’t murder Elise. Then she’d learn her lesson like I have.” She paused, crestfallen. “Oh, dam, that wouldn’t work either, would it? The dead and the living can’t get together very well.”

He crossed the room and sat down on the hassock in front of Alvina’s chair. Momo followed him and hopped up onto his lap. He petted the dog.

“You know something, Alvina?” he said. “If murder were the proper way of managing a woman, I wouldn’t have to bother with Elise at all. Because I would have already found the perfect woman in you.”

“That’s sweet of you, Claude.” Her smile was radiant. “Isn’t it too bad that things have to work out this way? That we couldn’t reach our perfect understanding until it was too late? Oh, I wish there were some way. I’ve asked about borrowing another body somewhere, but they say it can’t be done.”

“Yes, I wish there were some way too, Alvina,” he said.

Momo agreed, barking enthusiastically.

“You know,” Claude said suddenly, “I’ve just had a happy thought.”

“What, darling?” Alvina’s ghostly eyes lighted with hope.

“Well, though you can’t join me, I could join you.”

“Claude!”

“Yes, it’s rather drastic, I know.”

“What about Elise?”

“I don’t think she’d mourn more than a day or two.”

“But there are other things to consider, too. You’re still a young man, Claude. You have so much to live for.”

“What? Just tell me what? I lost everything when I lost you.”

“Claude, darling. Oh, I wish I could kiss you.”

“Can’t you? Have you really tried?”

“I know I can’t. I’ve been told. There’s a barrier between us.”

“Then if you can’t cross it, I certainly shall!”

“Oh, Claude, do you mean it?”

“Of course I mean it. There must be something appropriate in the medicine cabinet. I’d go up to that lake again and use it, darling, for sentimental reasons. But that would mean an awful delay. And I’m impatient to be with you again.”

“Claude, dearest...”

He stood up. “I’ll go see what’s in the medicine cabinet right now.”

He rushed off, but her voice stopped him. He turned back.

“Claude, get something for Momo too, will you?”

“Certainly. I don’t want to be separated from Momo, darling, any more than I want to be separated from you.”

When they met on the other side, Momo jumped down from Claude’s arms and went running to Alvina. She leaped into her mistress’s arms and cuddled there, giving off small, ecstatic squeaks.

“That’s a lucky dog,” Claude said. “When do I get my welcome kiss?”

But for the moment, Alvina and Momo were lost in the contemplation of each other, hugging and squealing and kissing. Claude was patient. He spent the time glancing around at his new surroundings.

“I never thought to ask you, darling,” he said, “but what kind of place is this anyway?”

What prompted the question was the fact that a couple of strangers were approaching. They were wearing a sort of uniform, like doormen, or perhaps guards. The uniforms had a red and black motif.

“Claude Crispin?” one of them asked.

“That’s me,” Claude said.

“Come with us, Mr. Crispin.”

“I’m afraid you don’t understand,” Claude objected. “This is my wife here. I intend to stay with her.”

It was Alvina who explained the difficulty. “Claude darling, Momo and I really would like to have you stay with us. But there are those old rules, darling. You’re a murderer, you know. You’ll have to go to the other place.”

And Alvina and Momo went back to hugging and kissing.