“No, not at all. I’m simply curious. I take an interest in the research of young scholars.”
Her band of prodigies, as Noah had called them.
“Like Tom Murphy,” Minerva said.
“Mr. Murphy, yes.” Carolyn nodded. “A smart boy. I was sad to hear he transferred.”
“He dropped out.”
“Did he? Well. I can’t remember all the details of the students we fund. Incidentally, my secretary will have to get in touch with you about filling out the paperwork from the foundation. For your next term. Well? What can you share with me?”
Minerva shifted uneasily in her seat, exhausted, trying to summon the proper words. “I’ve finished reading Beatrice’s manuscript and her journal covering 1934. I’m afraid I haven’t dug too much into other matters; it’s been a complex read. I have a better understanding of what I’m looking at and what I need now that I’ve talked to Mr. Hoffman.”
“You talked to Benjamin?”
“I went to see him and looked over the materials he’s stored.”
“Did you find anything useful?”
“Perhaps. It seems that Santiago was working at your father’s factory in December. It seems he also went missing that month.”
“Well, of course he would have gone missing. He ran away with Ginny,” the woman said dismissively.
Carolyn’s tone stirred something angry and raw inside her; Minerva’s voice was sharper than it should have been.
“He went missing before Ginny disappeared. Betty or your husband must have discussed this detail with you.”
Carolyn’s red lips parted into a half smile. “Betty and I seldom discussed Virginia Somerset.”
“What about your husband? He must have asked you to check the factory personnel records, back in the day.”
Carolyn’s smile receded. She rested her chin on the back of her hand. “My father saw no need for that. As I said, everyone knew they’d run off together. The person who came up with a different theory was Betty, because she had a writer’s imagination. Dear Betty, always with her fanciful tales.”
Minerva had caught the scent of something. This was important. She knew it. But she couldn’t exactly figure out how it all fit together. She yanked at the thread, wondering where it might lead her.
“Benjamin didn’t believe that Santiago ran off with Ginny, andI doubt Edgar did. He loved her, he wanted her art preserved. I don’t think he’d do that if he really thought she abandoned him.”
“As I said, my father ran that factory, and he never made mention of anything interesting in the personnel records. All there was, anyway, was Santiago’s address at that guesthouse. Not exactly a great clue.”
“So you did check and he was employed there? Because you didn’t say he worked for your family before. In fact, you told me the factory records would be powder by now, but your father pulled them out, or you wouldn’t know about the guesthouse.”
“You didn’t have to pull personnel records to know Santiago lived at the guesthouse.”
“Why? Did you talk to him? Did he tell you where he lived?” she asked, and she knew she was upsetting the woman. Soon the vague amusement in her eyes would turn into exasperation.
Carolyn flicked her fingers as if chasing away a fly. The gemstones sparkled, catching a beam of light. “I have no idea why you’re talking about any of this.”
Carolyn stared at her and Minerva knew better than to press further. Yet the ending of Betty’s manuscript lingered in her mind, full of questions and dead ends. “When Betty went to the dorm the day Ginny disappeared, she saw a drop of blood in the snow. It is possible—”
“Virginia Somerset was a troubled young woman who thought she could speak to the dead and who had been behaving erratically before she went missing,” Carolyn said, her voice hard and unyielding. “And if she took up with a man like Santiago, and if he hurt her, then she alone is to blame.”
Carolyn glared at her, sitting back in the chair with the air of a petulant empress, her chin held up high. Minerva looked into her eyes, which dared her to keep talking, and tugged at the thread once more.
“I don’t believe Ginny ran away with anyone.”
The thread snapped. When Carolyn spoke, she sounded indignant. Her hands shook and she clasped them together.
“You’re like them, whispering and trading idiotic theories.Betty and Edgar could never stop their mad twittering. As if what happened sixty years ago should matter. She’s gone.” Carolyn’s eyes fulminated, and she rose from her seat. “If you’ll forgive me, I have more important matters to attend to.”
