Kim took it. It was hard to read, forcing her to turn herself in order to take advantage of the light coming through the window. It seemed to say: Curiosity by Rachel Bingham contrived in 1691. Looking at the word “curiosity” reminded Kim of Mary Custland telling her that a “repository of curiosities” had been lost in the 1764 fire, suggesting that the Rachel Bingham work had been a part of that collection. Thinking back to Jonathan’s letter to his father, Kim surmised that the handwriting she was now looking at was Jonathan’s. In her mind’s eye she could see a nervous Jonathan Stewart rapidly scribbling the card in a panic to get out of the tutor’s chamber where he’d surreptitiously entered to change the name to Rachel Bingham. Had he been discovered he probably would have been asked to leave the college.
“I called over to the department chairman,” John said, interrupting Kim’s ruminations. “He referred me to another gentleman by the name of Carl Nebolsine, who’s the curator in charge of the Warren Anatomical Museum. So I called him. He told me that if I wanted to see the exhibit to come over to the administration building.”
“You mean he has it?” Kim asked with disbelief.
“Apparently so,” John said. “The Warren Anatomical Museum is on the fifth floor of building A, catty-corner from the front of the library. Are you interested in going over there?”
“By all means,” Kim said. She could feel her pulse quicken at the thought that she might finally have found Elizabeth’s evidence.
John reached for his phone. “Let’s see if Mr. Nebolsine is still over there. He was a little while ago, but I believe he has several offices. Apparently he takes care of a number of the smaller museums and collections sprinkled around the Harvard community.”
John had a quick conversation in the middle of which he gave Kim a thumbs-up sign. Hanging up, he said, “You’re in luck. He’s still there, and he’ll meet you in the museum if you head over there immediately.”
“I’m on my way,” Kim said. She thanked John and quickly crossed to building A, a Greek Revival structure faced with a massive pediment supported by Doric columns. A guard stopped her just inside the door but then waved her on when he spotted her MGH identity card.
Kim got off on the fifth floor. The museum, such as it was, was tucked along the wall to the left and consisted of a series of glass-fronted display cases. They contained the usual collection of primitive surgical instruments capable of making a stoic wince, old photos, and pathological specimens. There were lots of skulls, including one with a hole through the left eye socket and the top of the forehead.
“That’s quite an interesting case,” a voice said. Kim looked up to see a much younger man than she’d expected for a museum curator. “You must be Kimberly Stewart. I’m Carl Nebolsine.” They shook hands.
“See that rod in there?” Carl said, pointing at a five-foot-long steel rod. “That’s called a tamping rod. It was used to pack powder and clay into a hole drilled for the purpose of blasting. One day a hundred or so years ago that rod went through that man’s head.” Carl pointed to the skull. “The amazing thing is that the man lived through it.”
“Was he all right?” Kim asked.
“It says his personality wasn’t as agreeable after he’d recovered from the trauma, but whose would be?” Carl said.
Kim scanned some of the other exhibits. In the far corner she spotted some books on display.
“I understand you’re interested in the Rachel Bingham exhibit,” Carl said.
“Is it here?” Kim asked.
“No,” Carl said.
Kim looked at the man as if she hadn’t heard him correctly.
“It’s downstairs in the storeroom,” Carl said. “We don’t get a lot of requests to see it, and we don’t have nearly enough space to display everything we have. Would you like to see it?”
“Very much,” Kim said with relief.
They took the elevator down to the basement and followed a labyrinthine route that Kim would not have liked to retrace on her own. Carl unlocked a heavy steel door. Reaching in, he turned on the lights, such as they were: several bare light bulbs.