Kim took the clipboard from the messenger and hastily signed.
“It’s a special delivery,” the clerk explained.
“I can see that,” Kinnard said. “I also see that it is from Dr. Edward Armstrong’s lab. The question is, what can be inside?”
“It didn’t say on the receipt,” the clerk said.
“Give me the box,” Kim said sternly. She reached over the counter to take it from Kinnard, but Kinnard stepped back.
He smiled superciliously. “It’s from one of Ms. Stewart’s many admirers,” he told the clerk. “It’s probably candy. Pretty clever putting it in a computer paper box.”
“It’s the first time anyone on the staff ever got a special delivery package in the SICU,” the clerk said.
“Give me the box,” Kim demanded again. Her face flushed bright red as her mind’s eye saw the box falling to the floor and Elizabeth’s head rolling out.
Kinnard shook the box and intently listened. From across the desk Kim could hear the head distinctly thumping against the sides.
“Can’t be candy unless it’s a chocolate soccer ball,” Kinnard said, assuming a comically confused expression. “What do you think?” He shook the package close to the clerk.
Mortified, Kim came behind the desk and tried to get hold of the package. Kinnard held it above his head, out of her reach.
Marsha Kingsley rounded the desk from the opposite end. Like most of the rest of the staff in the unit she’d seen what was happening, but unlike the others she came to her roommate’s rescue. Stepping behind Kinnard, she reached up and pulled his arm down. He didn’t resist. Marsha took the box and handed it to Kim.
Sensing that Kim was upset, Marsha led her into the back room. Behind them they could hear Kinnard laughing with the clerk.
“Some people’s sense of humor is sick,” Marsha said. “Someone should kick his Irish ass.”
“Thank you for helping,” Kim said. Now that she had the box in her hands she felt much better. Yet she was visibly trembling.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with that man,” Marsha continued. “What a bully. You don’t deserve that kind of abuse.”
“His feelings are hurt because I’m dating Edward,” Kim said.
“So now you’re defending him?” Marsha questioned. “Hell, I’m not buying the spurned lover role for Kinnard. Not in the slightest. Not that Lothario.”
“Who’s he dating?” Kim asked.
“The new blonde in the ER,” Marsha said.
“Oh, great!” Kim said sarcastically.
“It’s his loss,” Marsha said. “Word has it she was the role model for those dumb-blonde jokes.”
“She’s also the one with the body that doesn’t quit,” Kim said forlornly.
“What do you care?” Marsha said.
Kim sighed. “You’re right,” she said. “I guess I just hate bad feelings and discord.”
“Well, you sure had your share with Kinnard,” Marsha said. “Look at the difference with the way Edward treats you. He doesn’t take you for granted.”
“You’re right,” Kim repeated.
After work Kim carried the computer paper box out to her car and put it in the trunk. Then she vacillated what to do. She’d had plans to visit the statehouse before the issue with Elizabeth’s head came up. She considered postponing the visit until another afternoon. Then she decided there was no reason she couldn’t do both, especially considering that her job at the cottage had to be done after all the workers left.
Leaving her car in the hospital garage, Kim” walked up Beacon Hill and headed for the gold-domed Massachusetts State-house. After being cooped up all day, Kim enjoyed the outdoors. It was a warm but pleasant summer day. There was a slight sea breeze and the smell of salt in the air. Walking by the Common, she heard the complaint of sea gulls.
An inquiry at the statehouse information service directed Kim to the Massachusetts State Archives. Waiting her turn, Kim faced a heavy set male clerk. His name was William MacDonald. Kim showed him the copies she’d made of Ronald’s petition and Magistrate Hathorne’s negative ruling.
“Very interesting,” William said. “I love this old stuff. Where’d you find this?”
“The Essex County Courthouse,” Kim said.
“What can I do for you?” William asked.
“Magistrate Hathorne suggested that Mr. Stewart should petition the Governor since the evidence he sought had been transferred to Suffolk County. I’d like to find out about the Governor’s response. What I’m really interested in finding out is what the evidence was. For some reason it’s not described in either the petition or the ruling.”
“It would have been Governor Phips,” William said. He smiled. “I’m a bit of a history buff. Let’s see if we can find Ronald Stewart in the computer.”
William used his terminal. Kim watched his face since she couldn’t see the screen. To her chagrin he kept shaking his head after each entry.
“No Ronald Stewart,” he said finally. He looked again at the ruling and scratched his head. “I don’t know what else to do. I’ve tried to cross-reference Ronald Stewart with Governor Phips, but I get nothing. The trouble is, not all the seventeenth-century petitions survived, and those that did are not all properly indexed or catalogued. There’s a wealth of such personal petitions. Back then there was a hell of a lot of disagreement and discord, and people were suing each other just as much as they are today.”
“What about the date?” Kim asked. “August 3, 1692. Is there some way you can use that?”
“I’m afraid not,” William said. “Sorry.”
Kim thanked the clerk and left the statehouse. She was mildly discouraged. With the ease she’d found the petition in Salem, she’d had high hopes of finding a follow-up ruling in Boston that would have revealed the nature of the evidence against Elizabeth.
“Why couldn’t Ronald Stewart have described that damn evidence?” Kim wondered as she stalked down Beacon Hill. But then the idea occurred to her that maybe it was significant that he didn’t. Maybe that was some sort of clue or message in and of itself.
Kim sighed. The more she thought about the mysterious evidence, the more curious she became. In fact at that moment she began to imagine it might be associated with the intuitive feeling she had that Elizabeth was trying to communicate with her.
Kim reached Cambridge Street and turned toward the Mass General garage. The other problem that her failure at the statehouse presented was that she was being thrown back to the impossibly large collection of papers in the castle, a daunting task at best. Yet it was apparent that if she were to learn anything more about Elizabeth, it would have to be there.
Climbing into her car, Kim headed north for Salem. But it was not an easy nor quick trip. The visit to the statehouse had put her in the height of rush-hour traffic.
As she sat in the bumper-to-bumper traffic on Storrow Drive, trying to get through Leverett Circle, she thought about the blond woman Kinnard was dating. She knew it shouldn’t bother her, but it did. Yet such thoughts made her especially glad that she’d invited Edward to share the cottage with her. Not only did she truly care for Edward. She liked the message that her living with Edward would send to both Kinnard and her father.
Then Kim remembered Elizabeth’s head in her trunk. The more she thought about Edward’s failure to come along to Salem that evening, the more surprised she was, especially since he’d promised to take responsibility for the head and was fully aware of her distaste for handling it. It was behavior at odds with his attentiveness and, along with everything else, it disturbed her.
“What is this?” Edward asked angrily. “Do I have to hold your hand continually?” He was talking to Jaya Dawar, a brilliant new doctoral student from Bangalore, India. Jaya had been at Harvard only since the first of July, and he was struggling to find an appropriate direction for his doctorate thesis.
“I thought you could recommend to me more reading material,” Jaya said.