Kinnard put his hand on the handle of a file drawer and glanced at Kim. “May I?” he asked.
“Be my guest,” Kim said.
Like most of the drawers in the attic it was filled with an assortment of papers, envelopes, and notebooks. Kinnard rummaged through but didn’t find any stamps. Finally he picked up one of the envelopes and slipped out the letter. “No wonder there’s no stamps in here,” he said. “Stamps weren’t invented until the end of the nineteenth century. This letter is from 1698!”
Kim took the envelope. It was addressed to Ronald.
“You lucky son of a gun,” Kim said. “This is the kind of letter I’ve been breaking my back to find, and you just walk in here and pluck it out like there was nothing to it.”
“Glad to be of assistance,” Kinnard said. He handed the letter to Kim.
Kim read the letter aloud:
12th October 1698
Cambridge Dearest Father,
I am deeply grateful for the ten shillings as I have been in dire need during these troublesome days of acclimation to colledge life. Ever so humbly I should like to relate that I have had complete success in the endeavor about which we had much discours prior to my matriculation. After lengthy and arduous inquiry I located the evidence used against my Dearly Departed Mother in the chambers of one of our esteemed tutors who had taken a fancy to its gruesome nature. Its prominent display caused me some disquietude but Tuesday last during the afternoon bever when all were retired to the buttery I chanced a visit to the aforesaid chambers and changed the name as you instructed to the fictitious Rachel Bingham. To a like purpose I entered the same in the catalogue in the library of Harvard Hall. I hope Dear Father that now you find solace that the surname Stewart has been freed from its most grievous molestation. In consideration of my studies I can with some felicity relate that my recitations have been well received. My chamber-mates are hale and of a most agreeable nature. Apart from the fagging about which you aptly forewarned me, I am well and content and
I remain your loving Son, Jonathan.
“Damn it all,” Kim said when she’d finished the letter.
“What’s the matter?” Kinnard asked.
“It’s this evidence,” Kim said, pointing it out in the letter. “It refers to the evidence used to convict Elizabeth. In a document I found at the Essex County Courthouse it was described as conclusive evidence, meaning it incontrovertibly convicted her. I’ve found several other references to it but it is never described. Figuring out what it was has become the chief object of my crusade.”
“Do you have any idea what it could be?” Kinnard asked.
“I believe it has something to do with the occult,” Kim said. “Probably it was a book or a doll.”
“I’d say this letter favors its being a doll,” Kinnard said. “I don’t know what kind of book would have been considered ‘gruesome.’ The gothic novel wasn’t invented until the nineteenth century.”
“Maybe it was a book describing some witch’s potion that used body parts as ingredients,” Kim suggested.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Kinnard said.
“Doll-making was mentioned in Elizabeth’s diary,” Kim said. “And dolls helped convict Bridget Bishop. I suppose a doll could be ‘gruesome’ either by being mutilated or perhaps sexually explicit. I imagine with the Puritan morality many things associated with sex would have been considered gruesome.”
“It’s a misconception of sorts that the Puritans were all hung up on sex,” Kinnard said. “I remember from my history courses that they generally considered sins associated with premarital sex and lust as lesser sins than lying or the promotion of self-interest, since the latter had to do with breaking the sacred covenant.”
“That means things have certainly turned around since Elizabeth’s day,” Kim said with a cynical chuckle. “What the Puritans thought were terrible sins are accepted and often lauded activities in present-day society. All you have to do is watch a government hearing.”
“So you hope to solve the mystery of the evidence by going through all these papers?” Kinnard said, making a sweeping motion with his hand around the attic.
“Here and in the wine cellar,” Kim said. “I did take a letter from Increase Mather to Harvard since in the letter he said that the evidence had become part of the Harvard collections. But I didn’t have any luck. The librarians couldn’t find any reference to Elizabeth Stewart in the seventeenth century.”
“According to Jonathan’s letter you should have been looking for ‘Rachel Bingham,’” Kinnard said.
“I realize that now,” Kim said. “But it wouldn’t have made any difference. There was a fire in the winter of 1764 that consumed Harvard Hall and its library. Not only did all the books burn, but also what was called a ‘repository of curiosities,’ plus all the catalogues and indexes. Unfortunately no one even knows what was lost. I’m afraid Harvard can’t be any help to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Kinnard said.
“Thanks,” Kim said.
“At least you still have a chance with all these papers,” Kinnard said.
“It’s my only hope,” Kim said. She showed him how she was organizing all the material in terms of chronology and subject matter. She even took him to the area where she’d been working that morning.
“Quite a task,” Kinnard said. Then he looked at his watch. “I’m afraid I have to go. I’ve got to round on my patients this afternoon.”
Kim accompanied him down to his car. He offered to give her a ride back to the cottage, but she declined. She said she intended to put in a few more hours in the attic. She said she particularly wanted to search the drawer where he’d so easily found Jonathan’s letter.
“Maybe I shouldn’t ask this,” Kinnard said. He had the door to his car open. “But what is Edward and his team of researchers doing up here?”
“You’re right,” Kim said. “You shouldn’t ask. I can’t tell you the details because I’ve been sworn to secrecy. But what is common knowledge is that they are doing drug development. Edward built a lab in the old stables.”
“He’s no fool,” Kinnard said. “What a fabulous place for a research lab.”
Kinnard started to climb into his car when Kim stopped him. “I have a question for you,” she said. “Is it against the law for researchers to take an experimental drug that has yet to reach clinical testing?”
“It’s against FDA rules for volunteers to be given the drug,” Kinnard said. “But if the researchers take it, I don’t think the FDA has any jurisdiction. I can’t imagine that they would sanction it, and it might cause trouble when they attempt to get an Investigational New Drug application.”
“Too bad,” Kim said. “I was hoping it might be against the law.”
“I suppose I don’t have to be a rocket scientist to guess why you are asking,” Kinnard said.
“I’m not saying anything,” Kim said. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t either.”
“Who am I going to tell?” Kinnard questioned rhetorically. He hesitated a moment and then asked: “Are they all taking the drug?”
“I really don’t want to say,” Kim said.
“If they are, it would raise a significant ethical issue,” Kinnard said. “There would be the question of coercion with the more junior members.”
“I don’t think there is any coercion involved,” Kim said. “Maybe some group hysteria, but no one is forcing anyone to do anything.”
“Well, regardless, taking an uninvestigated drug is not a smart idea,” Kinnard said. “There is too much risk of unexpected side effects. That’s the reason the rules were promulgated in the first place.”
“It was nice seeing you again,” Kim said, changing the subject. “I’m glad to feel that we are still friends.”
Kinnard smiled. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Kim waved as he drove away. She waved again just before his car disappeared in the trees. She was sorry to see him go. His unexpected visit had been a welcome relief.