Acceptable Risk (21 page)

“Damn it all,” Edward said.

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“You promised you’d have that thing back ASAP,” Kim said finally.

“It’s just the timing,” Edward said. Then, after a slight, pause, he added: “Why don’t you take it up yourself?”

“I don’t know if I could,” Kim said. “I didn’t even want to look at it, much less handle it.”

“You don’t have to handle it,” Edward said. “All you have to do is take the end of the coffin off and stick the box inside. You don’t even have to open the box.”

“Edward, you promised,” Kim said.

“Please!” Edward said. “I’ll make it up to you somehow. It’s just that I am so busy at the moment. We’ve started to analyze the structure.”

“All right,” Kim said. When someone close to her asked her to do something, it was hard for her to say no. It wasn’t that she minded the drive to Salem. She knew she should check the progress at the construction site as often as possible. Maybe slipping the box into the coffin wouldn’t be that bad.

“How am I going to get the box?” she asked.

“I’ll make it easy for you,” Edward said. “I’ll send it over to you by messenger so you’ll have it before you finish work. How’s that?”

“I’d appreciate it,” Kim said.

“Call me here at the lab when you get back,” Edward said. “I’ll be here at least until midnight, probably longer.”

Kim went back to work, but she was preoccupied. The anxiety she’d felt when she’d heard that the trench was to be filled in so soon had not abated. Knowing herself, she guessed it would remain until she’d returned the head to the coffin.

As Kim scurried back and forth between the beds caring for her patients, she felt irritated that she’d allowed Edward to take the head in the first place. The more she thought about her putting it back, the less she liked it. Although the idea of leaving it in the cardboard box had seemed reasonable when she’d been on the phone, she’d come to realize her sense of propriety wouldn’t allow it. She felt obligated to return the grave to a semblance of what it had been before it had been disturbed. That meant dispensing with the box and handling the head, and she was not looking forward to that in the slightest.

The demands of Kim’s job eventually pushed her concerns about Elizabeth into the back of her mind. There were patients to be taken care of, and the hours flew by. Later, as she was concentrating on a reluctant intravenous line, the ward clerk tapped her on the shoulder.

“You’ve got a package,” he said. He pointed toward a sheepish messenger standing next to the central desk. “You’ve got to sign for it.”

Kim looked over at the messenger. He was intimidated by the SICU’s environment. A clipboard was clasped to his chest. At his elbow stood a computer paper box tied with a string. In an instant, Kim comprehended what was in the box and her heart fluttered.

“The front desk tried to get him to take it to the mail room,” the clerk said. “But the messenger insisted his instructions were to deliver it to you in person.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Kim said nervously. She started toward the desk with the clerk following at her heels. To her horror a bad situation suddenly got worse. Kinnard stood up from behind the desk where he had been writing in a chart and was looking at the receipt. She’d not seen him since their confrontation at the compound.

“What do we have here?” Kinnard said.

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 Mac-Donald. 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.

“I can recommend an entire library,” Edward said. “It’s only a hundred yards away.” He pointed in the general direction of the Countway Medical Library. “There comes a time in everybody’s life when they have to cut the umbilical cord. Do a little work on your own!”

Jaya bowed his head and silently exited.

Edward redirected his attention to the tiny crystals he was growing.

“Maybe I should carry the burden with the new alkaloid,” Eleanor suggested hesitantly. “You can look over my shoulder and be the guiding light.”

“And miss all this fun?” Edward said. He was using a binocular microscope to observe crystals forming on the surface of a supersaturated solution in the well of a microscope slide.

“I’m just concerned about your normal responsibilities,” Eleanor said. “A lot of people around here depend on your supervision. I also heard the undergraduate summer students complained about your absence this morning.”

“Ralph knows his material,” Edward said. “His teaching will improve.”

“Ralph doesn’t like to teach,” Eleanor said.

“I appreciate what you are saying,” Edward said, “but I’m not going to let this opportunity slip away. We’ve got something here with this alkaloid. I can feel it in my bones. I mean, how often does a billion-dollar molecule fall into your lap?”

“We have no idea whether this compound is going to be worth anything,” Eleanor said. “At this point it is purely hypothetical.”

“The harder we work, the quicker we’ll know,” Edward said. “The students can do without my hand-holding for the time being. Who knows? Maybe it will do them some good.”

As Kim approached the compound her anxieties increased. She couldn’t forget that she had Elizabeth’s head in her trunk, and the longer she spent in direct proximity to it, the more she experienced a vague, uncomfortable foreboding about the course of recent events. Having stumbled onto Elizabeth’s grave so quickly in the renovation process made it seem as if the witchcraft frenzy of 1692 was casting an ominous shadow over the present.

Passing through the gate, which was ajar, Kim feared that the construction people were still there. As she emerged from the trees her suspicions were confirmed. There were two vehicles parked in front of the cottage. Kim was not happy. By that time she’d expected all of the workmen to have departed.

She parked next to the vehicles and slid out from behind the wheel. Almost simultaneously George Harris and Mark Stevens appeared at the front door. In contrast to her response, they were demonstrably pleased to see her.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Mark said. “We were hoping to get you on the phone later, but your being here is far better. We have a lot of questions.”

For the next half hour Mark and George took Kim on a working tour of the renovation. The amazing progress that had been made improved her mood dramatically. To her delight Mark had brought granite samples to the site for the kitchen and the baths. With Kim’s interest in interior design and her sense of color, she had no trouble making decisions. Mark and George were impressed. Kim was even impressed with herself. She knew that the ability to make such decisions was a tribute to the progress she’d made over the years with her self-confidence. When she’d first gone to college, she’d not even been able to decide on the color of her bedspread.