Part 11 (1/2)
He gave me a swift warning look. ”Sophie-”
My voice wavered. ”I couldn't bear it if Chappy starts to forget everything . . . if he forgets us.”
Tommy pulled me to him. ”I know.” He ran his thumb back and forth through my hair, and his voice broke, too. ”Neither could I.”
Harry called as I walked through the door of my apartment half an hour later.
”I just talked to your brother,” he said. ”I heard you two had dinner and he told you about Mom and Chap.”
Harry is usually straight with me and he doesn't beat around the bush. He already knew about the dinner, and I figured he called Tommy to get the lowdown on how I'd taken the news.
”Harry,” I said, ”why didn't you call me and tell me about Chappy? I know Mom put Tommy up to it after she left for Connecticut.”
He made a sound like air leaving a tire. ”I learned when I first married your mother not to get in the middle of things between the two of you. I think it's the reason I've lived as long as I have.”
”Still-”
”I'd like you to come to London with me, kitten.”
”Pardon?”
”That's why I'm calling. Your mother and I had a quick trip planned, just for the week. There's an art show at Olympia, plus an old friend has a Thoroughbred running in the Winter Derby at Lingfield. Caroline planned to bolster the British economy by buying out all the shops in Knightsbridge. Now that she's with your grandfather, I wondered if you'd keep your old man company instead.”
”Oh, gosh, Harry, it sounds great, you know I'd love to. But the day after tomorrow is Sat.u.r.day and that's when the kids are getting their shoes at Sole Brothers. I can't miss that.”
”If that's the only impediment, don't worry. It's the night flight. Please come, honey. You've been working awfully hard lately. You can visit friends, do whatever you want. You'll have fun, I promise. And I'd love the company.”
I did some mental calculating. My one looming deadline was Olivia's ma.n.u.script; she wanted to meet in a week to talk about photos for ”No Little Plans.” I could take the ma.n.u.script with me and work on it on the plane and in the hotel.
”I'll come,” I said. ”I'd love to.”
After Harry hung up, I got my camera bag from the foyer and brought it into the living room. Though Nick and I had transformed one of the upstairs bedrooms into an office, I often worked at an antique gateleg table that I'd moved into the alcove of a bay window overlooking S Street. When I pulled out my diary, the brochure for Kevin's symposium at the Botanic Garden fell out. ”Losing Paradise: Our Endangered Biosphere and the Challenges of Safeguarding It for Our Children.”
I looked again at the list of speakers and panelists, including the director of horticulture at the Center for Historic Plants at Monticello, Dr. Ryan Velis. Kevin had been to Monticello in January, and after that he'd been in London to speak at a conference at Kew Gardens.
The other morning at the Tidal Basin he'd talked about something he'd found in London and said that he'd done additional research on whatever it was when he'd returned to the States. Had he bought the copy of Adam in Eden in England? Francis Pembroke, the Leesburg doctor who'd written to the head of the Chelsea Physic Garden, was a cousin of Meriwether Lewis. In my dim, distant memory of high school U.S. history, Thomas Jefferson had been president during Lewis and Clark's expedition.
I pulled out my laptop, and a moment later I found what I was looking for. President Thomas Jefferson, keen to learn anything he could about the land he had just acquired through the Louisiana Purchase, obtained funding from Congress for a western trip known as the Corps of Discovery Expedition headed by his personal secretary, Meriwether Lewis, and Lewis's close friend William Clark. Maybe Kevin had gone back to Monticello for his additional research.
Ryan Velis's e-mail address was listed on the Monticello staff page, and there was a general information e-mail address for the Chelsea Physic Garden. I wrote two e-mails, one to Ryan Velis and another to ”To whom it may concern” at the Chelsea Physic Garden, explaining my connection with Kevin and asking if it would be possible to meet with someone to discuss a letter John Fairbairn had written to Dr. Francis Pembroke concerning plants from the Lewis and Clark expedition.
I hit Send and found the file for the engagement photos from the other night, spending the next hour editing them. When I got to the ones of Kevin saying the blessing, I had to stop and pour myself a whiskey before I could finish. After I was done, I uploaded everything to a photo gallery and sent e-mails to Ursula, Yasmin, and Victor with the link.
Then because I'd forgotten about it the other day, I downloaded the Tidal Basin cherry blossom photos I'd taken the last time I'd been with Kevin. There were several of him gesturing enthusiastically, his arms windmilling as he talked, eyes lighting up, gla.s.ses slipping down the bridge of his nose, his familiar smile. I stared at them before I moved on to a series of panning shots, a complete view of the Tidal Basin. A few were blurred and I started to delete them when something caught my eye. A man stood next to the steps by the Roosevelt Memorial, staring right at Kevin and me. I enlarged the photo until it became too pixilated to even make out that it was a person, so I printed the picture and used a magnifying gla.s.s. But the photo was so blurred that the figure looked almost transparent, a vaporous ghost image.
Was this man Kevin's stalker? Had he been waiting for him as Kevin left the Tidal Basin that day? Kevin had said someone could have been watching the two of us, and I'd told him flat out that no one was there and we were all alone.
Now it looked like I'd been wrong.
My e-mail dinged and I jumped. It was exactly midnight. Ryan Velis had written back.
I would be very interested in discussing your letter from John Fairbairn to Francis Pembroke as well as possibly shedding some light on the background of Dr. Pembroke. If, by chance, you are willing or able to travel to Monticello, we can discuss this in person. I would also be happy to give you a private tour of Thomas Jefferson's gardens and look forward to hearing from you.
I hit Reply and wrote: I can be there by 11 am tomorrow (today) if that would be convenient. I'll be driving from Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C.
He wrote right back.
Excellent. I have some questions for you as well. Bypa.s.s the visitors' entrance and drive up the mountain to the parking lot below the mansion. Someone will let you through the gate. I'll be expecting you.
I wondered if his questions had anything to do with Kevin's book.
Tomorrow morning I'd find out.
10.
Ursula Gilberti's secretary called just before nine a.m. as I was navigating onto Highway 29 about forty miles outside Was.h.i.+ngton near Gainesville, Virginia. A little farther out, 29 turns into a pleasant country road that winds through Civil War battlefields, past farms, orchards, vineyards, and pastures where horses and cattle graze against the hazy backdrop of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Right now, though, I was still dealing with the headache of commuter traffic on a Friday morning.
”Ms. Medina,” she said, ”I hope I'm not calling too early, but the senator has asked me to tell you that Archduke Victor and Miss Gilberti were called away unexpectedly on a family matter. Any further meetings will have to wait until they return.”
I merged into clogged traffic and said, ”Thank you for letting me know.”
What further meetings? The last time I had seen Ursula was the day before yesterday when she arrived at the Franciscan Monastery just before Officer Carroll walked me into the church for questioning. Perhaps she had a.s.sumed my presence there meant I agreed to her terms that any further photography work I did for Victor and Yasmin's wedding would be without pay. I had already decided to stay on, not because of Ursula's vague and probably inflated promise to recommend me to all her friends, but because I'd made a commitment to Victor, whom I liked very much and didn't want to let down.
”Senator Gilberti will contact you herself next week to discuss further arrangements,” the secretary said. ”And she also requests that you send her the engagement party photos as soon as possible.”
One of the meager benefits of not being paid was that I no longer needed to jump through every single hoop Ursula Gilberti held up.
”Please tell Senator Gilberti that I sent her, her daughter, and Archduke Victor an e-mail with a link to the photos last night, so she should check her in-box. Also, I'll be in London next week, so if there's anything else, she can contact me when I return. And you'll have to excuse me, but I'm driving and I need to pay attention right now.”
”I'll look for those photos and I'll let her know you'll be away. You have a nice day, Ms. Medina.”
Jack phoned next. ”I was going to call last night to ask if you ever figured out what that key unlocked, but I got stuck on campus until late. Then one of the seminarians needed to talk, and that went until midnight. Any chance you're free for lunch today?”
”I wish I were, but I'm halfway to Charlottesville. I'm meeting someone at Monticello at eleven o'clock.”
”Monticello?” He sounded surprised. ”Work related or just taking a day off?”
”Neither.”
I told him everything, including the discovery that Kevin owned an original copy of a book that had once belonged to Sir Isaac Newton.
”Are you serious?” He sounded floored. ”I wonder if Kevin knew it was that valuable.”
”I don't know, but the bigger question is who actually owns the book. I wonder what kind of deal Edward Jaine had with Kevin. Did he give Kevin money with no strings attached so Kevin bought the book himself, or did Jaine buy the book and Kevin was only borrowing it?”