Chapter 22 Ingrid
Ingrid
After returning from California in October, Ingrid’s circumstances in the office have not changed. True, she gathered plenty
of information to assist J. Edgar Hoover and the FBI with HUAC’s investigation. True, she proved Crenshaw’s doubts wrong by
carrying out a successful assignment. Yet while her report is processed and she awaits confirmation that the investigation
into Ada is closed, each day is no different from those prior to her time in Hollywood. So she waits, aching for responsibilities
that won’t come until her success is acknowledged.
“The 80th Congress will be sworn in next month,” Crenshaw says at today’s meeting while Ingrid sits in her usual seat, taking
notes. “With Republicans holding a majority, the FBI has already notified me of HUAC’s intentions to increase investigations,
so when the time comes, I’ll be sending some of you on assignment.”
Ingrid sits taller. An opportunity for her to return to California, perhaps?
Archie, too, leans forward in his chair, clearly eager for the same possibility.
The Communist threat has not dissipated as she initially hoped after returning from her investigation; it has only worsened, judging by newspaper articles, talk among her colleagues, and the increase in investigations Crenshaw just mentioned.
Even if Ada’s views have been clarified, perhaps Ingrid will be assigned to someone else and can spend more time with her sister.
Not the relaxing vacation she wanted for her next visit, but nevertheless an opportunity to see Ada.
“Mrs. Van Essen, a word,” Crenshaw says after the meeting.
Anticipation courses through her veins, although it’s too soon to allow her hopes to rise. This might not have anything to
do with California. Tempering her expectations, she follows Crenshaw to his office, then waits while he closes the door and
sits behind his desk.
“Stieber wants me to send you back to Hollywood to resume your investigation into Ada Worthington-Fox.”
Slowly, Ingrid takes the seat across from him—even though he didn’t extend the invitation—and folds her hands as they shake
with unrestrained excitement. Stieber requested her. Even all this time after turning in her report and hearing no news from
him or Crenshaw, nothing about whether they were pleased or dissatisfied. It seems he was indeed pleased. Except . . . what
did her employer say?
Her throat runs dry, making words difficult. “To resume my investigation? Was my report not satisfactory?”
He taps his spectacles against the desk. “No, no, it was decent.”
Decent is the closest thing to a compliment she’s ever received from him. Between that and Agent Stieber requesting her, she should
be satisfied. Instead, all Ingrid hears are her increasing heartbeats and the steady tap of his spectacles against the wooden
desk. She had provided everything necessary to prove Ada’s position and more. What else could he possibly need?
“Sir, I don’t understand. Miss Worthington-Fox gave her exclusive, and the evidence I provided—”
“Does not prove the Star Society is not a front, despite her claims. Even if she is not a Communist, she has Communist friends and, according to your report and others, a Communist agent, so she might be sympathetic to the cause. Until we have confirmation of the group’s purpose, we can’t rule out the possibility.
” Crenshaw arches a brow. “You’ve spent all this time pestering me for more opportunities, and I’m offering you one.
Should I offer it to someone who will be grateful for it? ”
“No, no, of course I appreciate it . . . I’m happy to resume my investigation.” Even though she isn’t certain she understands
his reasoning. Still, if Ada needs her again, she must help.
Crenshaw leans across the desk. “Confirm Worthington-Fox’s political views and the status of her organization. One mistake,
or failure to give me or Stieber what we ask for, and we will remove you from the investigation. You are replaceable. Don’t
forget it.”
Ingrid merely nods while he waves her out, so she returns to her desk and sits, too stupefied and unsettled to sort out what
just happened. Why everything she gathered about Ada was decent yet not enough.
A slam startles her into focus. She blinks and stares at a thick file, then looks up at Archie, who stands above her.
“Your report,” he says, nodding to the folder. “Crenshaw wants us to spend the next month reviewing materials and developing
a new plan of action prior to our return.”
Our return, meaning he will be going with her again. She clenches her jaw.
“What’s your assignment this time?”
“Ada Worthington-Fox.” He winks while Ingrid stiffens, then he laughs. “I’m kidding. You shouldn’t make it so much fun to
annoy you. I made some contacts last time who have been useful in identifying possible subversives, so I’ll be working with
them to gather more names.” He taps the file. “Get to work.”
Back to California with Archie. Maybe her leverage over him due to his past dalliance with Communism has kept him from interfering with her pursuits, but she still has no desire to work with him again.
Once he’s gone, her mind is too clouded to review her work, so instead she calls Hattie.
“Who am I investigating this time?” Hattie teases following Ingrid’s greeting; she knows her too well.
“Gregor Dietrich, Schutzstaffel und Polizeiführer in Arnhem, Holland.”
“Bloody hell,” Hattie mutters, her voice low to prevent eavesdropping. “SS and . . . Police Leader, is that correct? Meaning
a role in security, suppressing resistance, that sort of thing?” Then she gasps. “Wait, you said Arnhem? Where you grew up?
Ingrid, did he . . . Were you—?”
“I can’t talk about it,” Ingrid interrupts, keeping her voice low. “But, to reassure you, no, he has not done anything to
me.” Except he has, in a sense, because he tormented her sister, which hurts Ingrid far worse than anything he might have
done to her directly had she ever encountered him. “I don’t know if he’s alive or not, but I need whatever you have on him,
if anything.”
Hattie sighs. “I’ll see what I can find.”
After thanking her friend, Ingrid hangs up. Ada will be finished with filming in the next few weeks, meaning her exclusive
will be published soon. Once it is, if Dietrich really is looking for her, they must be ready. Until then, it seems Ingrid
has an investigation to resume.
When she returns home, Ingrid leaves the file in her bag. She will begin her review soon enough, but the sight of it leaves
a pit in her stomach. She had been so certain it was enough to help Ada, and apparently she failed.
She is still sitting on the sofa, brooding and staring at the briefcase containing the offending file, when the door opens.
“Busy day?” Lars asks as he enters and notices her pursed lips. “Any difficulty with Crenshaw?”
“Would you believe he was very nearly complimentary?” Lars grunts an indiscernible response, indicating he most certainly
does not believe it. “Honestly, he was,” she insists as she rises from the sofa and proceeds into the kitchen to start dinner.
“Although I’m not certain if we’ll ever progress beyond that. ‘Very nearly’ just about did him in.”
Lars chuckles as he joins her. When his arms encircle her waist and his lips find her neck, a little shiver pulses down her
spine. Somehow that gesture always makes her feel like a lovestruck girl again. She turns to face him and speaks in Dutch.
“Did you miss me today?”
“Shall I show you how much?”
He kisses her lips, then her neck. Yet, despite efforts to lose herself in his touch, the unsettled feeling in her chest returns,
interfering until she avoids his next kiss and sidesteps him.
Silence falls. Normally, she would playfully push him away or order him to stop distracting her, or to put on an apron and
help if he insists on being in the kitchen. Right now she can’t say anything, certainly can’t explain matters she doesn’t
understand. But for her husband’s sake, she must try to explain as much as permitted.
“I have to leave. On assignment. I don’t know when yet.”
“Again? For how long?” When she says nothing, indicating she doesn’t know the answer, he starts over. “Well, this is good,
isn’t it? If Crenshaw is giving you more responsibilities, he must be pleased with your work on the last assignment.”
If only that were the reason.
“You’re happy, aren’t you?” Lars ventures when she stays quiet. “You’ve been wanting assignments for years, and now—”
“You know I can’t talk about it.”
Too cross, too short, too late to soften the undeserved blow even though she wishes she could. Ingrid doesn’t need to look at Lars to know he’s startled, confused, frustrated. The only sound is running water as she washes vegetables for dinner, then she sighs and dries her hands.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be irritable; it’s just—” So many things, few of which she can admit. Her sister is not as protected
as she thought, and she doesn’t know what else to do when she already did all she could. And she does not understand why it
was not enough. Now she has to leave Lars again for an indeterminable amount of time. “It’s complicated,” she finishes while
Lars kisses her cheek in reassurance.
As she tries to push the matter aside, the evening proceeds normally until Lars retires for bed. Ingrid promises to join him
momentarily, then she extracts the file from her briefcase and sets it on the coffee table.
A detailed, thorough report proving Ada is not a Communist. But somehow still not good enough.
Sighing, Ingrid pulls out the thick stack of documents, notes, articles, photographs, and recording transcripts. Then she
begins her review.