The Hunt Ball

C H A P T E R 1 8

Tuesday, November 22, was the last day of classes until Monday, November 28. The brevity of Thanksgiving vacation ensured that many Custis Hall students stayed put.

A few left the previous Friday, having turned in their papers, taken tests early. Pamela Rene was one of those. Her father sent the company jet for her, which impressed some students, infuriated others. Pamela took it as a birthright but she really didn’t want to go home.

Professor Kennedy came to say good-bye to Charlotte before her own departure.

The two women sipped sherry. A misting rain coated the windows, small panes, original to the building.

“We’ve grown accustomed to you, Frances.” Charlotte used Professor Kennedy’s first name once the older woman had given her permission to do so.

“I’ve met some interesting people and I can’t thank you enough for setting up the meeting with Sister Jane and the Widemans.”

“I look forward to seeing St. John’s of the Cross myself, but I expect it will be from the back of my horse, first time, anyway.”

Professor Kennedy placed her sherry glass on the silver tray. She smoothed down her skirt. “Charlotte, I will have this report to you by the first of the year. It’s painstaking. I want to do the best job for you that I can because this will be the template that future generations refer to and utilize.”

“I know we’ll be excited to read it.”

She touched her tight bun for a second. “Refresh my memory, who has keys to the cases?”

“I do. Knute, as treasurer, has a backup key. Teresa knows where I keep my key. Jake Walford, in charge of buildings and grounds, has his own key.”

“No one else?”

“No, why?”

She paused; a pained expression crossed her well-formed features. “I hesitate to discuss this. Part of me thinks I should wait until my report, wait for the fallout, but . . .”

“Yes?” Charlotte’s heart beat faster.

“The man who is dead. Did he have a key?”

“No.”

Professor Kennedy’s faced seemed inscrutable. “Those cases would be easy to pry open. You’d know, though.”

“Professor Kennedy, what’s the problem?”

Speaking quickly and low, Professor Kennedy plunged right in. “There are irregularities among your artifacts.”

“In what way?”

“I believe some of the items are not authentic.”

Charlotte took this in. “I see. Do you think they were not from the Custis family when they were donated to the school?”

“No. I believe some of these items have been tampered with much more recently. But before I risk my reputation on this, I want to carefully go over the photographs and my descriptions with my colleagues.”

“Yes, of course. I can appreciate your position.”

“And I can appreciate yours,” Professor Kennedy said sympathetically.

“Have you told anyone else?”

“No.”

“Do you think anyone suspects? Do you have suspicions?” Charlotte leaned forward. She noticed Frances checking her watch. “I can take you to the airport.”

“I have to drop off the rental car. I’m packed and ready to go.” She sat up straight. “I’ll have my report to you after the New Year.” She paused. “I don’t know the people here well enough to have suspicions. I hope I’m wrong, Charlotte, I truly do, but,” she inhaled deeply, “I know I’m not. My report is going to hit Custis Hall like a bombshell.”