Caro saw comprehension dawn as Laura read through the first couple of notes. She glanced up at Caro, looking shocked. Then she hurriedly finished reading each scrap of paper.
“Caro, where did you find these?”
“In one of Grace’s textbooks.”
Laura’s fists clenched, crumpling the paper. “I would like to strangle whoever wrote this…filth. I hate that Grace had to read these, and I hate even more that she saved them. I want to burn them this instant, but we can’t, can we? It’s evidence…the kind of evidence that we could use if we wanted to take this to the university president or even to show to the local police.”
“The problem is how could we ever discover who wrote them? The handwriting is probably disguised, and even the content differs. Some are more like scurrilous doggerel, some repeat the kinds of comments a woman might hear on any street corner or simply walking up the North Hall steps.”
“But some of them say they want Grace to die.”
“They say, ‘you should die,’ not Grace. That is another problem. None of them uses her name. How would we prove that these were even directed at Grace?”
“Could they have come through the mail? If so, maybe the postman would remember if she started to get letters where the envelopes had no return address.”
“I think it is more likely they were slipped into her student mailbox on campus or even under the door to the attic at the boarding house. You’ve seen how easy it is to walk into Mrs. Feltzer’s. A student could find a time when all the boarders would be in classes, and Mrs. Feltzer would be in her room or down in the kitchen.”
They sat and looked at each other for a moment.
Finally, Laura said, “Well, if anyone questions me about why we are making a fuss over what happened to Grace, I think all we need to do is show them these. I defy even Ned Goodwin to say these are only minor pranks.”
Caro nodded, then said, “I don’t want to downplay this find, at all. But as I see it, the immediate task at hand is to figure out exactly who was on the camping trip.”
“In other words, see if there was someone who was also involved in harassing Grace and therefore might have a reason to push him over a cliff to shut him up?”
“Or, conversely, is there someone we might ask about Willie, and if he said anything on that trip that would suggest he might have taken his own life?”
“I can try to find out if Ned knows anything more than he told me this morning.”
“Did he know the names of everyone who went?”
“I’m not sure. There was your zoology professor, LeConte, his son and his daughter Caroline, and her friend Helen Gompertz, Royce and his wife, and Professor Sanders. Ned said that Elliot Sinclair, you know, the Zeta Psi president, was there, as well as another Zeta Psi brother, Bart Keller. Oh, that’s right. He said Miss Sinclair, Elliot’s sister, was on the trip, too.”
“Oh dear, how terrible for her, especially if she had feelings for Willie.”
“I agree. Celia told me she is only sixteen. Evidently, Miss Sinclair shared a tent with Caroline LeConte and Helen Gompertz…and Royce’s wife…who I gather came along on the trip to act as a chaperone. Ned seemed to think it a great joke that Royce had to bunk with LeConte and Sanders instead of his pretty new wife. Beyond that, he just said there were a couple more adults and at least four more students who went with them.”
“He didn’t know who they were?”
“I’m not sure. He was more interested in telling us gruesome details about Willie’s body and how difficult it had been to get him out of the canyon and back to Berkeley. He quoted Elliot as saying you could tell right off that Willie was dead, because his head lay at an impossible angle and his arms and legs were all crooked. Celia was not best pleased when he launched into this description, and Seth Timmons spoke pretty sharply to him, so I didn’t want to press him on more details in front of the others.”
“Well, we do need to find out everyone who was there.”
“I can’t help but think it’s significant that Elliot and Bart were part of the group.”
“Bart? Do I know him?”
“Yes, Bart Keller. He’s in our German class. People call him B.K. He’s medium height, shock of brown hair, clean-shaven, handsome in a square-jaw sort of way. Never prepared. I believe he’s a junior, but it’s possible he is one of the class of ’81 who was held back after the suspension.”
“The one who is always making rude comments under his breath about Instructor Putzker?”
“The very one. I don’t have any difficulty believing Ned when he says Bart is the main instigator of all the fraternity ‘frolics,’ as he calls them.”
“It would be useful if you could find out if Elliot or this B.K., what a ridiculous name, shared a tent with Willie, and see if either of them have ventured any explanation for what happened.”
“You do know, Caro, that if both Elliot and Bart were involved in harassing Grace, and Willie told them of your threats, they’ve probably been busy concocting some story to exonerate themselves.”
“Even better reason to see what they say. See if they seem to be pushing the idea that Willie’s death must have been accidental or hinting that he was in an imbalanced frame of mind.”
Laura took a bite out of her scone and began to chew slowly. Caro could practically see her thinking about how she could extract this information from Ned Goodwin. However, Caro had one more specific topic she wanted to address. She took a look at the clock on the restaurant wall. They still had forty-five minutes before they had to leave to get to their noon German class, where she was going to give this Bart a good looking over.
She took another sip of her coffee and said, “In addition to finding out more about the camping trip, I think we also need to see if we can figure out on our own the names of everyone who was involved in the campaign against Grace, including Willie’s suggestion that someone else—besides his fraternity brothers—was behind everything.”
Laura nodded sharply. “I’ve been thinking, didn’t Grace say in her letter to you that other people here at the university could be in danger? Do you think she could she have meant Willie?”
“I hadn’t thought of that. I do think we needed to be more systematic about searching for answers. For example, we don’t even know when the harassment started.”
“I confess I would like to believe that nothing much was going on in August and early September, when I first met Grace, and she invited me over to dinner. Otherwise, I have to accept that I completely missed that anything was wrong.”
“Well, I have a place to start looking for the answer to that question.” Caro took a couple of notebooks that had been sitting in her lap and put them on the table. “These are her notebooks for the classes she took with Sanders last spring and this past fall. I wanted to see if there were any changes in the kind of notes she took between the two semesters.”
“What a clever idea! A kind of handwriting analysis to see if you can determine her state of mind. I think Annie once told me this is called ‘graphology.’ You could certainly tell a lot about me and my attitude towards any given class if you looked at my notes. I get so caught up in listening to Sanders—he’s got such a lovely voice—that I’m afraid I don’t take many notes. But with Royce, particularly this semester when the topic is logic, I take down almost every word he says, because I know I am going to have to go over those notes carefully to fix them in my mind. The man is probably a genius, but oh my, his sentences are hard to parse.”
Caro was glad that Laura understood why she felt looking at the notes would be helpful. “Here are her notes for the English literature class she took with Sanders last spring, and the second notebook is from the Anglo-Saxon course she was taking with him this fall. I would like you to take a quick look at these two notebooks right now and tell me what you see, just at first glance.”
Laura pushed her plate aside, opened up the first notebook, and started flipping through the pages. Here and there she would
stop, carefully read a passage, then move on. At one point she laughed and said, “I didn’t realize Grace could draw. She’s really caught Sanders in his full oratorical glory here, and this sketch of the student, Alex Hampton, he’s also in our German class, really captures his constant state of confusion.”
“Yes, Grace is…was…very good at caricature. She produced some excellent illustrations for the student newspaper in high school. I noticed that her chemistry notes from last year were filled with drawings that seemed to have nothing to do with the subject.”
“She probably had old Professor Starling for chemistry. I’ve heard rumors they are trying to ease him out, he’s such a terrible lecturer and has so little control of the students. I’m not surprised that she was much more focused in her notes in Sanders’ class. I’m impressed at what a good job she did at getting down his quotations. I always forget to take pen to paper until he’s half-way through the passage he’s quoting. As a result, I’m lucky if I get the citation down, so I can look it up later. Thank goodness Kitty is better in that department, so I can always ask to look at her notes.”
Laura spent a few more minutes skimming through the rest of the pages before taking up the notebook for Sanders’ Anglo-Saxon course. Caro watched with satisfaction as Laura began to frown after a few pages. She turned back to the first pages, read them very carefully, then moved on.
She put down the notebook and said, “Caro, something definitely started to change. Her notes during most of August look no different from her spring notes, then she begins to write more sporadically, and the notes become less organized. Oddly, she appears to have become upset with Sanders, if the question marks and exclamation points are any indication of her mood. I suppose it could be that the change was in Sanders’ lectures. Yet I was attending his class on the history of language at the same time, and he seemed fine. Did you notice this sort of change in her other class notes from last year to this?”
“It’s hard to tell because the only other professor she had in both the spring of her sophomore year and this fall was Moses, and I haven’t had time to look closely at those notebooks. I will do so today. However, I would like you to go thoroughly over these notes from her Anglo-Saxon class. See if you can find any pattern.”
“I can do that, although I’m not sure how quickly I can get to it.”
“I understand. I don’t want you to do anything that will interfere with your studies. However, when you do get to it, could you look to see if you can figure out why she seems to have shifted topics for her essay for the literary society? She seems to have been using this notebook to jot down ideas and even produce the beginnings of a thesis. Her original topic appears to have been something about American women poets, and that is very different from her final essay about ethics in public life. I would like you to search for any clues as to why she changed the topic.”
“You know, Sanders actually had some of his own poetry published. Maybe Grace discussed this first essay topic with him.”
“That’s what I thought. Maybe he discouraged her from writing on this subject. In my experience, most literature professors look down on female authors as writing sentimental drivel.”
“And you think if Sanders expressed this sort of opinion, this might explain the changes we see in her notes?”
Caro heard the skepticism in Laura’s voice and said, “Something caused the change. Sanders was her favorite professor. Last spring, and through much of the first month of fall term, her notes demonstrate that she hung on his every word. Then something happened. Keeping in mind that Sanders was one of the people on the camping trip, I think it’s important that we figure out what caused her attitude towards him or the class to shift.”
Chapter 24
Wednesday morning, March 16, 1881
Berkeley
“Shortly after this contest, we adopted in defiance of Sophs and of all custom, as our class standard, a blue skull-cap.” 1881 Blue and Gold Yearbook
“Now, Ned, I think you owe me a little of your time, since you’d be completely lost in our German class without my help.” Laura hooked her arm through his and pulled him down the hallway that traversed the first floor of North Hall. “We can go out the back door, take a short stroll towards the Mechanical Arts building, and you can tell me all you know about Willie Caulfield and the ill-fated camping trip.”
“Look, I promised I’d meet some of the boys…”
“I know, I know, you have an important appointment with North Hall’s front steps, and all the other good-for-nothings there will miss you sorely. But I don’t want more than fifteen minutes of your time. I even wrote out a copy of my transcription of the three paragraphs we are supposed to have studied this past weekend…in case you want to do a few minutes of cramming before class.”
She saw Ned glance back down the hall, which was empty because the tardy bell for the classes now in session had already rung, and felt him shrug. She had already promised Celia that she would do all she could to help him in German, since he couldn’t afford to fail another class. Therefore, if he’d asked, she might have given him the transcription anyway. But it bothered her that he so readily accepted the offer…seemed like a weakness in his character.
As they left North Hall and began to walk along the path that led past the new library, he took the blue skull-cap that was the prescribed hat for this year’s freshman class from his inner coat pocket and positioned it on his head, careful not to disarrange his wavy blond curls. It took all her self-will not to laugh out loud since this ridiculous headgear made him look like an overgrown toddler…an overgrown toddler with a thick mustache and sideburns.
Trying to sound as sincere as possible, Laura said, “I know that Willie Caulfield was a good friend of yours, so I wondered how you were holding up?”
“Oh, well, you know. Stiff upper lip and all that. Just seems such a stupid accident.”
“So you’re sure it was an accident?”
“Of course it was! What rumors have your heard?”
“I haven’t heard a thing. But this morning I thought you said there was going to be an inquest to determine cause of death.”
“Oh, that’s just a formality. No, Elliot says there’s no doubt it was an accident. He says the university will be fortunate if Willie’s mother doesn’t sue, though. Negligence on the part of LeConte in placing the campsite so close to the edge of a cliff.”
“Oh, the short piece in the Chronicle last evening made it sound like the cliff was quite a distance away from where the tents were pitched. Although with all those people, I suppose the camp was pretty spread out. How many tents were there? You said the three professors shared a tent, and Royce’s wife shared one with Caroline LeConte, Helen Gompertz, and Sephronia Sinclair. I wonder who LeConte’s son shared a tent with?”
Ned frowned. “Let me see. Elliot told me LeConte’s son Joseph shared a tent with him, B.K., and Willie, and that Nannie Northridge and Lottie Hollister, the two Kappa fraternity sophomores who were there, were in a tent with Lottie’s mother. Then two Chi Phi brothers, also sophomores, shared a tent with a minister, Reverend Mason, who is their house sponsor. That makes it five tents altogether. So you’re right, they might have been spread out, and the one that Willie was in could have been closer to the cliff. Just bad luck.”
Reverend Mason, that’s unexpected.
Laura needed to let Caro know about this development as soon as possible, since she had mentioned talking to him. If they were going to consider everyone one who came on the camping trip as a potential suspect, then Caro needed to be careful how she approached the good minister.
Laura turned her attention back to Ned, who was saying that Elliot suspected that Willie had just gotten confused. “He’d never been camping before,” Elliot says. “A city boy like him, used to street lights and well-marked roads, could get turned around when he…”
Laura thought Ned was trying to think of how to bring up the fact that Willie might have had to leave the tent to
answer a call of nature, so she rescued him, saying, “Did your friends or LeConte’s son notice him leaving the tent?”
“To tell you the truth, B.K. confided in me that there was a fair amount of going in and out of the tent that night. You see, they’d brought a bottle of whiskey with them to celebrate their last night, but they had to stash it under a bush, because of LeConte’s son. They’d tried to get the boy to bunk with the Reverend and the boys from Chi Phi because they didn’t want him around, but he’d refused. Said that the Reverend’s tent was too small.”
“So they didn’t feel they could drink in front of him? The boy might tell his father.”
“Yah, or insist they share, B.K. said. Long and short of it, neither he nor Elliot would have thought anything about Willie leaving or would have stayed awake to see if he got back safely.”
Laura tried to picture Willie staggering half a mile away from the tents and then falling down a cliff. She’d noticed on her way home from work last night that the moon was almost full, so Saturday night there should have been a fair amount of moonlight. Surely he would have noticed he wasn’t in camp any longer? Then again, it would depend on how high the moon was in the sky when he’d gone out for his last drink…or to relieve himself, for that matter. Or how drunk he was.
Obviously, Elliot and Bart Keller were pushing the idea that Willie’s death was an unfortunate accident. Which was really rather short-sighted of them if it came out that they’d provided the alcohol that could explain why he would have done something so stupid. But it might be that this was a preferable story to one where Willie got drunk that night on purpose…because he was feeling guilty about Grace. She suddenly had an image of him sitting on the side of the cliff, bottle in hand, thinking about ending it all.
No, that just didn’t feel right. She looked at Ned, who was idly kicking a stone off of the path, and tried to see a scenario where he would commit suicide out of guilt…say if he jilted Celia or stood by and watched her be humiliated in some fashion. It was a sad commentary, but she thought both Ned and Willie were too shallow to come to the conclusion that death was preferable to living with the knowledge that they had hurt someone they had loved. They would feel bad for a brief time and then find some way to blame someone else and move on.
Scholarly Pursuits Page 17
