Kim’s heart fell. “I’m so sorry to have put you through all this for nothing,” she said.
“Well, I didn’t give up there,” Gertrude said. “Not on your life. When I get committed to something, I don’t let it rest. So I went back through all the old handwritten cards from when the library was first organized. It was frustrating, but I did find another reference more by luck than anything else except perseverance. For the life of me I cannot figure out why it wasn’t included in the main library index.”
Kim’s hopes brightened. Following the trail of Elizabeth’s evidence was like riding an emotional roller coaster. “Is the work still here?” she asked.
“Heavens, no,” Gertrude said indignantly. “If it were, it would have been in the computer. We run a tight ship here. No, the final reference I found indicated that it had been sent to the Medical School in 1826 after being here for less than a year. Apparently no one knew where to put the material. It’s all very mysterious because there wasn’t even an indication of what category it belonged to.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Kim said with frustration. “Searching for this book or whatever it might be is getting too much. It’s becoming a bad joke.”
“Buck up!” Gertrude ordered. “I went through a lot of effort on your behalf. I even called over to the Countway Medical Library and spoke to John Moldavian, who’s in charge of rare books and manuscripts. I told him the story, and he assured me he’d look right into it.”
After thanking Gertrude, Kim went back to Harvard Square and reboarded the Red Line for Boston.
It was now rush hour, and Kim had to squeeze onto the train. There were no seats so she had to stand. As the train thundered over the Longfellow Bridge, Kim began to think seriously about giving up the whole Elizabeth quest. It had been like chasing a mirage. Every time she thought she was getting close, it turned out to be a false lead.
Climbing into her car in the MGH garage, Kim started the engine and then thought about the heavy traffic she’d be facing on her way out to Salem. At that hour just getting through the Leverett Circle interchange would probably take close to a half hour.
With a change of heart, Kim turned her car in the opposite direction and headed for the Countway Medical Library. She’d decided she might as well follow up on Gertrude’s lead rather than sit in traffic.
John Moldavian seemed perfectly suited for work in a library. He was a soft-spoken, gentle man whose love for books was immediately apparent by the affectionate and caring manner he handled them.
Kim introduced herself and mentioned Gertrude’s name. John responded immediately by searching for something among the clutter on his desk.
“I’ve got something here for you,” he said. “Where in the devil did I put it?”
Kim watched him as he shuffled through his papers. He had a thin face dominated by heavy black-framed glasses. His thin mustache looked almost too perfect, as if it had been drawn with an eyebrow pencil.
“Is the Rachel Bingham work here at the library?” Kim hazarded to ask.
“No, it’s no longer here,” John said. Then his face brightened. “Ah, here’s what I wanted.” He lifted a single sheet of copy paper.
Kim silently sighed. So much for the Gertrude lead, she thought.
“I looked through the Medical School Library records for 1826,” John said. “And I found this reference to the work you’re seeking.”
“Let me guess,” Kim said. “It was sent somewhere else.”
John regarded Kim over the top of the paper he was holding. “How did you guess?” he asked.
Kim gave a short laugh. “It’s been a pattern,” she said. “Where did it go from here?”
“It went to the Department of Anatomy,” John said. “Of course today it is called the Department of Cell Biology.”
Kim shook her head in disbelief. “Why on earth would it have been sent there?” she asked rhetorically.
“I’ve no idea,” John said. “The entry I found was rather strange. It was in the form of a hastily handwritten card that had apparently been attached to the book or manuscript or drawing. I made you a copy.” John handed the paper to Kim.