“Whooo, hold on!” Edward said. He backed away a step as if Kim were a threat. “You’re too conspiratorially inclined; your imagination is working overtime.”
“Ronald married Elizabeth’s sister ten weeks after Elizabeth’s death,” Kim said heatedly.
“I think you are forgetting something,” Edward said. “The test I ran on Elizabeth’s remains suggests that she’d been chronically poisoned by the new fungus. She’d probably been having psychedelic trips on a regular basis, which had nothing to do with Ronald. In fact he might have been having his own if he were ingesting the same grain. I still think the evidence had to do with something Elizabeth made while under the hallucinogenic effect of the mold. Like we said, it could have been a book, or a picture, or a doll, or anything they thought related to the occult.”
“You have a point,” Kim conceded. She took the letters from Edward and put them in the Bible box. She glanced down the wine cellar’s long hall with its complement of furniture filled with paperwork. “Well, back to the drawing board. I’ll just have to keep looking in hopes of finding the evidence described.”
“I finished my meetings,” Edward said. “Everything is going smoothly regarding the new lab. I have to compliment you on your contractor. He’s going to start today by digging the utility trench. He said his only concern was finding more graves! I think finding Elizabeth’s spooked him. What a character.”
“Do you want to go back to Boston?” Kim asked.
“I do,” Edward admitted. “There are a lot of people I want to talk to now that Omni is soon to be a reality. But I don’t mind taking the train like I did the last time. If you want to stay working here on your project, I think you should.”
“Well, if you wouldn’t mind,” Kim said. Finding the letters had at least encouraged her.
9
Friday, August 12, 1994
August had began hot, hazy, and humid. There had been little rain all through July, and the drought continued into the following month without remittance until the grass on the Boston Common in front of Kim’s apartment changed from green to brown.
At work, August brought some relief for Kim. Kinnard had started his two-month rotation at Salem Hospital, so she didn’t have the anxiety of facing him daily in the SICU. Kim had also concluded negotiations with the department of nursing to give her the entire month of September free. It was put together with a combination of accumulated vacation time plus personal time off without pay. The nursing office hadn’t been happy with the request, but they had compromised in order not to lose Kim altogether.
The beginning of the month also provided Kim with some time on her hands because Edward was away constantly. He was busy flying around the country on secret recruitment missions for Omni Pharmaceuticals. But he did not forget her. Despite his pressing schedule, he phoned every night around ten, just before Kim went to sleep. He also kept up the daily flowers although on a more modest scale. Now the deliveries were a single rose a day, which Kim felt was much more appropriate.
Kim had no trouble filling her time. In the evenings she continued her background reading on the Salem witch trials and Puritan culture. She also made it a point to visit the compound every day. Construction was proceeding at an extremely rapid rate. The crew at the lab was more numerous than the one working on the cottage. Nonetheless, progress at the cottage did not slow, and finish painting was begun even before all the cabinetwork had been completed.
To Kim, the biggest irony of the construction project was that her father was thoroughly impressed with her because of the work on the lab. Kim did not let on that she was not involved in that part of the renovation, and that it had not been her idea.
On every visit to the compound Kim spent at least some time in the castle, painstakingly sifting through the hoard of dusty documents and books. The results were disappointing. Although she’d been encouraged by the discovery of the three letters, twenty-six hours of subsequent search had yielded nothing of comparable value. Consequently, on Thursday the 11th she decided to follow the lead she had, and she brought the letter from Increase Mather to Boston, having built up the courage to approach Harvard.
After leaving work on August 12th, Kim walked to the corner of Charles and Cambridge streets and climbed the stairs to the MTA station. After the experience at the state-house, which she now knew was a totally hopeless venture since Ronald had never petitioned the Governor, Kim was not optimistic about finding the evidence against Elizabeth at Harvard. Not only did she think the chances of the university still having such material in its possession slim, she fully expected people at the university to think of her as some kook. Who else would come on a quest for a three-hundred-year-old object, the nature of which was never specified in what few tangible references to it she had?
While waiting for the train, Kim almost turned back several times, but each time she reminded herself that this was her only lead. Consequently she felt impelled to follow up on it, no matter what response it might elicit.
Exiting the underground station, Kim found herself in the usual bustle of Harvard Square. But once she’d crossed Massachusetts Avenue and entered the campus, the noise of the traffic and crowds was muffled with startling rapidity. As she walked along the tranquil, tree-shaded walkways and ivy-covered red brick walls, she wondered what the campus had looked like in the seventeenth century, when Ronald Stewart had attended. None of the buildings she was passing looked quite that old.
Recalling Edward’s comment about the Widener Library, Kim had decided to try there first. She mounted the broad steps and passed between its impressive columns. She was feeling nervous and had to encourage herself to continue. At the information desk she made a vague request about speaking with someone concerning very old objects. She was sent to Mary Custland’s office.
Mary Custland was a dynamic woman in her late thirties, stylishly dressed in a dark blue suit, white blouse, and colorful scarf. She hardly fit Kim’s stereotypical image of a librarian. Her title was Curator of Rare Books and Manuscripts. To Kim’s relief she was gracious and warm, immediately asking how she could be of help.
Kim produced the letter, handed it to Mary, and mentioned that she was a descendant of the addressee. She started to explain what she wanted, but Mary interrupted her.
“Excuse me,” she said. She was startled. “This letter is from Increase Mather!” As she spoke, she reverentially moved her fingers to the very periphery of the page.
“That’s what I was explaining,” Kim said.
“Let me get Katherine Sturburg in here,” Mary said. She carefully laid the letter on her blotter and picked up the phone. While she was waiting for the connection to go through, she told Kim that Katherine specialized in seventeenth-century material and was particularly interested in Increase Mather.
After making her call, Mary asked Kim where she’d gotten the letter. Kim again started to explain, but then Katherine arrived. She was an older woman with gray hair; a pair of reading glasses resided permanently on the end of her nose. Mary introduced them and then snowed the letter to Katherine.
Katherine used just the tip of her finger to move the letter around so she could read it. Kim was immediately embarrassed by her own cavalier handling of it.
“What do you think?” Mary asked when Katherine was finished reading.
“It’s definitely authentic,” Katherine said. “I can tell by both the handwriting and the syntax. It’s fascinating. It references both William Brattle and John Leverett. But what is this evidence he’s discussing?”
“That’s the question,” Kim said. “That’s why I’m here. I’d started out trying to learn something about my ancestor Elizabeth Stewart, and that goal has evolved to solving this puzzle. I was hoping Harvard could help, since the evidence, whatever it was, was left here.”