by R D Hathaway
“Who the —?”
Rennie looked out the windshield and nothing was in focus. She shook her head and closed her eyes. More deep breaths followed.
Which story, flowed through her thoughts.
It had to be the one on the city’s condemnation practices in the downtown area. Too many important people and too much money was involved. Lawyers for the city, lawyers for the property owners, the property owners themselves, city administrators; no one gave her straight answers on what they did and why each case was settled the way they were. No other assignment involved anything important.
She could let that one go and come back to it at a less intense time. The paper had little interest in it, anyway. Of course, that lack of support could mean it was too sensitive for some important people.
Anger boiled in her gut. Once again, the powerful would get their way. She hated that.
Rennie decided to back off on that assignment and finish the unimportant ones. That felt good, and she nodded a sharp confirmation of the plan.
She grabbed the door handle to get out but paused and looked around the car. Firmly holding her phone in one hand, she pushed open the door, closed it as she kept watch, and locked the door. She thought it might be time to get a more modern car, one with a key fob, but she loved that old Volvo.
Rennie’s pace to the library was faster than usual, and her senses were on high alert. She didn’t slow down at the counter but dashed up the stairs. Unlocking the door to the study room, she waited for a moment before going in. She felt as though she was about to say good-bye to someone, someone she had come to care for. She closed the door and went to her chair.
Rennie examined the boxes, the attaché case, file folders, books, journals, the sheets of paper where she wrote her notes, diagrams, and reminders. She removed her linen sport coat and hung it over the back of another chair. Sitting down, she studied the cover of the closed journal in front of her. She hesitated to open it. Rennie worried about what she would find in the final pages.
Without putting on the gloves, she opened the journal to the marker and began to read Matthias’s next entry.
“I must write a quick note! New life! What a night of joy and love! I am new again, and I think so is she. Priscilla, a gift of love. There, I’ve said it again. Love! Oh, if I only dared to write about it. The pages themselves would catch afire. Dinner at the Waldorf, a walk past the theaters, and a night with her; most wondrous of women! I must make plans for this incredible new day. Who knows what will be? A new life.”
Rennie sat back. “What the —?” was all she could say. She re-read the entry again.
Very nice, professor, she thought. She found the next entry.
“It is late, Sunday evening, and I must rest for a new day. Nothing is the same. How will I keep from holding her as she sits just a few feet away???? These last few days have been profoundly good in every way – love, adventure… I even asked her if she would come to Iowa. I can’t believe it. I nearly proposed. And, I am certain she would say ‘yes’ if I asked.
In Stratford, she held my arm as we strolled through the streets where Shakespeare walked. I don’t know what was better, being there or being with her. Priscilla, I thank God for you!”
Rennie could hardly breathe. “Whoa, professor,” she whispered.
“We did our best to conceal our feelings, but I doubt we were successful. Old Warrington may be crusty, but he is not lifeless or stupid. I, on the other hand, was apparently quite stupid. I don’t know how I could have been so careless. He handed me the bag of coins I had found in the box. He said they were found on the study desk, and he looked as though I had been caught stealing the entire collection. I’m sure my apologies and embarrassment were insufficient.
I must be most careful in opening the contents of the box from Antioch. What JOY! My love for Priscilla and an ancient discovery in one place. I may have to see if I can extend my stay here and ask Simpson for a release from teaching next month. How can I leave here now? I must get to sleep.”
A strong line separated the last paragraph from the next. The text of the following section was written in a more precise and less fluid manner than his previous entry.
“It has been a few days since I offered my last thoughts. These have been most awkward times. Priscilla and I do our best to conceal our love, but our eyes cannot keep it hidden. Mort is coming into the room more often, and at one point, he looked at me as though he might explode. Even Reverend Worthy has come by and acted quite strangely. I have wondered if I should simply make an announcement of our love and clear the air. Priscilla objects to the idea.
Oh, and my box from Antioch. I immediately returned the coin bag to it, with Mort suspiciously drifting in the background. Later, I was able to return to it and force the opening half an inch further. It may be nothing, but who knows? Rest, I need rest.”
Rennie found her notebook and added a few comments on Mort and Reverend Worthy. She circled both names and then continued her reading of the journal.
“This was not a good day. Reverend Worthy was unexpectedly harsh, particularly on Priscilla. Despite her high standards and precise work, he suggested she might be inappropriate for the position she occupies. He suggested he might speak with Keeper Budge about her when he returns from Egypt. Worthy loves to speak of rules and ideals. Compassion is the heart of living in faith but it has no part of his life. It was all I could do to not get up and confront him. I sensed he was baiting me. Warrington seems to approve of his behavior.
To make matters worse, that troublemaker Reggie stopped her on the way home from work. He demanded to know where she was this past weekend. She told me he frightened her. I replied that if this MacDonald character ever …”
Rennie gasped. She said “MacDonald,” with the air remaining in her. She glanced around as if searching for something. Questions raced through her mind.
Who is Mrs. MacDonald? Who is this guy confronting Priscilla?
She returned to reading.
“I told her if this MacDonald character ever bothers her again, I will seek him out. She said I shouldn’t be so silly. We must be careful. She is too precious to be at risk.”
Another strong line separated the text.
“This day has been most odd. Lady Jane stopped in to see me. I cannot believe I am writing this, but she flirted with me. I am certain of it. Never before has she been so forward, and she did it in front of Priscilla. Priscilla wasn’t pleased.
On the side of great fortune, I was able to add another inch to my efforts to open the panel on my box from Antioch. Soon it will open. A mass of folded papyrus lies within and contributes to the difficulty in opening the panel.
I am torn as to whether I should tell Warrington, or even Priscilla of this discovery. I don’t want her to get into trouble if my activities were to cause a problem. Warrington would probably ban me from the lower level and nail the box shut! I don’t know what to do. But! I am driven to see what the mysterious document might be.
Priscilla and I had dinner again this evening. It is so wonderful to be with her. There is something distant in her behavior. She is less engaging when we talk. When I accompanied her to her home, she said it was best if I didn’t come in. I reassured her of my love, but she seems to be more cautious.”
Rennie placed the marker on the page and stood up. She stared at the journal.
“What’s going on here?” she asked the air.
She put her hands on her hips and shoved the chair with her foot.
“Dang it!”
She walked around the table and occasionally paused to move a box or a file folder. But her mind was on what was going on in Matthias’s life. She stopped across the table from where she was sitting. She gazed at the journal.
Is THIS what got you killed? Some darned flirtation?
Rennie fell back into her chair and read the next journ
al entry.
“I almost did it. I nearly proposed to her. Priscilla said she wanted me to know that her behavior last weekend was new to her and she shocked herself. She was quite embarrassed. I see her as more perfect every day. Even her modesty is a tribute to her.
This weekend, now our second and just like the first. We dined at a restaurant on the West End to which I was introduced by Lady Jane and Rev. Worthy. Priscilla loved it. She was a bit unsettled when I mentioned how I learned of it. I don’t know why she so dislikes those two. Until recently, they were most kind to her. Soon after I came to London, she referred to them as the Princess and the Pope. I thought she had meant it as flattery.
Priscilla does not know much about the better parts of London. She said she had been to the West side only a few times. I am SO glad I could discover it with her.
I think Arthur is warming to me. That bully MacDonald —,”
Rennie gasped, but she continued to read,
“— observed us as we departed in a taxi. He must be dealt with, I fear. It is clear I need to remove Priscilla from here. Perhaps, I should leave for Iowa early and take her with me. I cannot believe what I am saying! What joy. Thank you, Holy God for this great gift of love.”
Rennie stopped reading and looked at the attaché case. “Great gift of love,” she said. She got up and opened his leather case, finding the envelope and folded paper. On it were the words, “Thank you Holy God, for this incredible gift of your amazing love. No other discovery in all of human history will ever compare with this.”
She placed the note and envelope back in the case. Noticing the bound-up tin that was his lunch box, she touched it. I guess I could open you, sometime, she thought.
Rennie found the next journal entry.
“In the last few days, the road I walk has become a tight rope. The box from Antioch has revealed its treasure – an ancient manuscript. I still have told no one and I don’t know what I should do. If I tell Warrington, the old man will dispose of me in an instant for ‘tampering’ with the relics. Whatever is on the papyrus will never be revealed.
I must review the document. Then, I can decide whether or whom to tell. It has become so difficult. That blasted Mort is almost tracking me now. Even my darling Priscilla acts in such an awkward way. I have neglected her. I will change that immediately! I must stop now. I’m exhausted with tension.”
Three strong lines separated the journal entries.
“I don’t know where to begin. I sobbed when I got back here to my room.”
Rennie’s eyes widened and she held her breath. A knock on the door interrupted the moment.
Angie peeked in. Her smile was followed by a perplexed look.
“What happened to you? Oh, my gosh! Did you find out?”
“Find out what?”
“You know, how he died. Your face says you found out.”
“No, I don’t know yet, but things are happening fast. I’m near the end of the journal. Something big is about to happen.”
Angie held out a piece of paper.
“I’m sorry to interrupt. I just read this e-mail that was sent to you with a copy for me from the interns in London. They discovered something important.”
She handed a print of the message to Rennie.
Rennie scanned it.
“Oh, my — Oh, no!” she exclaimed. “He got pulled from the river, from the Thames? Cause of death may have been drowning. He also had a stab wound? Oh, no.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty sad.”
Rennie tossed the print aside. Her eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect this, I mean this reaction. I know he died over there. It’s just, I didn’t know the details.”
She looked up at Angie.
“Why? He was just a nice guy in love.”
The corner of her mouth quivered.
“Rennie, how about a break for lunch? You’ve been at it pretty hard this morning, and it’s way past lunch time.”
Rennie took some tissue from her bag. She blew her nose.
“Okay. Good idea. Let’s get out of here.”
Standing, she turned to see the journal and the black, leather attaché case. She sighed and shook her head.
“I’m sorry. I can’t leave now. I’m near the end.”
Angie saw the red eyes of someone in distress.
“Rennie, a little fresh air, some nonsense gossip, and food are just what you need right now. They’ll refresh you and give you a better perspective when you come back to this. It’s not going anywhere. Twenty minutes. That’s all. Let’s go.”
“Girl, you get bossy, you know?”
She slipped off the cotton gloves and pushed her chair back. Her eyes didn’t leave the journal.
“Rennie, I’m hungry. Let’s go. I have a quick errand to do and will meet you there. I’ll leave a note at the front desk with the place info.”
“There’s something else. Angie, when I arrived on campus, a guy tried to hit me with his truck. He got out and came at me. He threatened my life and said I had to stop work on an assignment. He didn’t say which one. Angie, he threatened my life.”
“No, no.”
Angie slid out a chair and sat down as if all the energy had suddenly left her body.
“Rennie, are you certain that it was a personal threat? It’s so extreme.”
“Absolutely. I’ve gone over every moment of the incident. I don’t know what to do. Should I call the cops? I could give a good description. But Angie, he said I don’t know who I’m dealing with. That suggests some real power-players are involved.”
“Is it this story, about the professor?”
“I can’t imagine it’s that. I mean, who cares? What’s in it for anyone? It’s got to be about my investigation into the city’s condemnation practices in the downtown urban renewal projects. There’s a lot of big money and some important people involved. And, the top brass at the paper seem to not want the story told, too. You know who they talk to. It’s not the common man.”
“Rennie, whatever story it is, the number one issue is your safety. Did you report it to anyone at the paper? What’s the procedure for this?”
“Who knows? This isn’t an everyday thing in sleepy old Des Moines, Iowa. I might call my editor, Bud. In fact, I should. Our professor here got killed and no one investigated it. He was distinguished, and I’m not. If someone whacks me, too bad.”
“Stop it. Don’t think that way. You’ve gotten the attention of some big shots because you ARE important. Now, what we need to do is plan how to proceed.”
“Well, listen to you. Angie the Avenger!”
Rennie sat back and grinned.
Angie laughed. “Let’s get out of here and eat. I’ll meet you there. Look out world, there’s a librarian on the team!”
Indianola, Iowa
V - 3
The incident with the jerk in the street didn’t leave her. Rennie sat in her car outside the restaurant. She had to tell Bud.
“Bud, it’s Rennie. Call me as soon as you get this message. Someone threatened me. It’s about a story I’m working on. Call me.”
She felt a burst of energy.
As Angie reached the door to the restaurant, Rennie yelled.
“Hey, what’s good in there?” She displayed a smile full of teeth.
Angie waited and held the door. “You doing okay?
“Let’s get a table, food, and then talk.”
They went to the counter, reviewed the menu on a large board on the wall, and placed their orders. Finding a table in a quiet corner wasn’t difficult.
“Angie, I’m a fighter. I don’t know why. My folks are so, I don’t know, intelligent and calm. I guess I’m the other side of the coin. Sometimes, it has worked against me. You know, like Don Quixote, tilting at the windmills as if they were
demons. I’m not sure I know who to fight with, anymore.”
“Why do you feel a need to fight? I don’t get it.”
“I think it’s not so much the fight. It’s some inner drive to make things right. You know? That’s probably part of my zeal to find so-called truth. What’s the real story?”
“Rennie, I don’t know the people in your business, but what you describe seems to be a common trait. I see on TV the reporters in war zones and think they are so brave. You’re not different from them. The world is a war zone. Every neighborhood is a war zone. Consider the gun violence and child abuse and problems with drugs. You’re reporting on it just like those people on TV.”
“So, you think I should stick with all my assignments and forget what happened?”
“No, not at all. The war zone reporters take appropriate precautions. They don’t go running into combat. The stay safe and tell the stories. I imagine their editors control a lot of what they can do.”
“True, and I do have a rebellious side my editor has trouble controlling. Some would portray that more negatively. Oh, they called our numbers. Let’s eat.”
As they ate, Rennie felt the need to change the subject away from her situation.
“So, what’s the latest with your lawyer?”
“I don’t know. He’s probably consumed with his big career step and has given me no thought. I’m coming around to the idea that I need to live my life and pursue my goals regardless of his plans. It’s unfamiliar territory for me. I’ve thought in terms of us for so long it’s not easy to think only of my interests and goals.”
“Yeah, why do we do that? Love shouldn’t be a sacrifice of a life. My gosh, that makes me think of dear old professor Justus. I need to get back and finish this …”
Rennie’s phone declared a call coming in. “Oops, sorry. It’s my editor. I’ll take it outside. Hey Bud, hold on a moment.”
“Okay, I’m outside. I was in a restaurant with Angie. The librarian at Simpson.”
She described the incident in quick, stark detail. “So, what do you think? What should I do? Bud, I don’t know what assignment he was concerned with. You know what I’ve got. What do you think? No Bud, I don’t want to clean the whole slate. That’s not needed. Other than the city condemnation story, I see no threats to any special interests in anything else I’m working on.”