The Time Travelers' Club: Chapter 52 -- Mrs. Steers and Her Research

Emily browsed the reference books, working on a question for a library patron. Bending over, she pulled an oversized book from the bottom shelf. When she stood up, Emily jumped.  Mrs. Steers had appeared next to her.

"Oh, I’m very sorry," said Mrs. Steers. "I should not have snuck up on you."

"That's fine, but you seemed to have appeared out of nowhere."

Mrs. Steers had a couple paperbacks in her hands. "I was just picking up some mysteries for a trip. I will be out of town for the next week. I'm going to do some research for a new book. I just wanted to let you know. Would you please get my mail?"

"Sure" said Emily. "Sam and I'll keep an eye on things."

"Tell Sam I will be back soon, and he shouldn't worry about me."

"It's good to see you two are getting along so well," said Emily. "And thank you for letting him use your library."

"He's such a good boy and well-mannered. See you at the end of the week."

Mrs. Steers checked out her books and Emily returned to her reference question.

Back home, Mrs. Steers finished packing her over-night bag with enough clothes for a week.  Standing in the middle of her bedroom, she said the transition incantation and her destination, and was gone.

Seconds later, she stood in front of a secluded rustic church nestled among some evergreen trees.  She enjoyed the snow-capped mountains surrounding the valley where the church sat.  A few clouds passed through the blue sky.  The only other buildings in sight were a dark-clapboard barn to one side and a stone well with a roof and a crank to lower and raise a pail on a rope.

Mrs. Steers followed a gravel path to the church's side entrance and knocked on the oak door.  She admired the decorative wrought iron hinges and latch. Moments passed before she could hear the turn of locks.  The door opened just enough for Mrs. Steers to see her own reflection on a pair of round spectacles peeking out through the crack of the slightly open door.

"It’s me, Ms. Bookstock," said Mrs. Steers.

"I have to be careful," whispered Ms. Bookstock, not opening the door any further.  "Do you have your papers?"

Mrs. Steers slipped her paperwork through the crack.   She could hear Ms. LBookstock shuffling them.

"Alright, Mrs. Steers.  Please come in."  Ms. Bookstock opened the door enough for Mrs. Steers to squeeze through, then she immediately shut the door behind her.  After the ritual of locking all the locks, she turned to Mrs. Steers.

Ms. Bookstock returned Mrs. Steers’ membership card, a copy of her application, and her approval letters from the Council. Working with Mrs. Steers’ schedule, the Council arranged appointments for her.

"It’s good to see you again. How are you?" asked Mrs. Steers.

"I'm doing very well, thank you."

Ms. Bookstock had her hair in a bun held up with pencils on top of her head, glasses on a chain around her neck, and most of all very prim and proper.  Mrs. Steers had known her for numerous years, and despite her demeanor, she knew that Ms. Bookstock had a past.

They went down a narrow stone stairway along the outer edge of the nave into a crowded basement.  Reminded of Jameson’s bookshop, Mrs. Steers glanced around at the stacks of worn books, old banker boxes, and framed photographs of club members.  Piles of aged papers were neatly stacked on shelves.  Frayed scrolls filled one shelve completely.

Located in the old church’s basement were the Time Travelers' Club archives.  Owned by the International Council, the church was built in the late 15th century, but the archives had been moved into the building about ten years ago.  Its location was a heavily guarded secret, even within the club. The process for entry required an extensive application, presented to the International Council at least six months in advance for approval to even know the location of the church and to use the materials.

Organizing her workspace on one of library's unused tables, Mrs. Steers laid out her pencils, notepads, and huge magnifying glass.  She loved working in the archives. She was alone, except for Ms. Bookstock, and could concentrate.  Mrs. Steers sat down at the only computer, typed in her search terms, and started skimming the results.

"Here you are.  Just like you left them the last time you were here."  Ms. Bookstock rolled over a wooden cart piled high with research materials.

"Oh, thank you," said Mrs. Steers.

Thumbing through a stack of papers, Mrs. Steers began reading the first paper she pulled out.  She had stumbled across a note dated 1612.  It read:

In time, one will be found, the scroll lies in the tomb, secretly they will place it, until the seal breaks for the one to enter.

"That's interesting," uttered Mrs. Steers.  "I wonder if that’s what I’ve been looking for..."

After thinking pensively, she made a note about the note.  She poured over every bit of information that she had about Dr. Herkeimer.

"There must be a clue in all of these notes," said Mrs. Steers out loud.  "Some clues to his madness.  More digging."

An hour later, Mrs. Steers stumbled across a tidbit of information.  "Aha," said Mrs. Steers.  "Bruno.  Hmmm...  Nothing we don't already know, but..."

She scribbled on her note pad.

Bruno was left as a baby at an orphanage in a suburb of Chicago, where he grew up there, never being adopted.   He was educated by the nuns who ran the home.  He was skinny and weak, suffering from scarlet fever as a baby.  He eventually left the orphanage at the age of 18 and joined the Navy.  Later in Asia.

She shrugged her shoulders, annoyed by the lack of new information.  From there, she decided to double-check facts about the Doctor.  Finally, she had stumbled upon a new piece of information.

"Hmmmm... Interesting. I will have to follow up on this." She wrote down "newspaper in Portland, Oregon."  Mrs. Steers sat back in her chair and rested her eyes. "I need a break."

Stacking her papers neatly, she grabbed one of her other notepads and perused her notes.  This time tracking down what she could about the lost archives.

The lost archives. Pieces missing from the current archives. Strange and cryptic notes. The scroll and books.

"Philip De Thame... You are one tough fellow to find anything on. I guess it's back to the books."   Mrs. Steers rubbed her chin first, then her forehead, and mumbled to herself.

"Lottie, put this away," Mrs. Steers mumbled to herself.  "Get back to the important research.  Focus."

Mrs. Steers pulled out yet another note pad from under her stack of materials and research notepads.

"Oh my, I hope this is right. I've been over all of this four times. It has to be right."

By now, her cluttered, yet organized, research included stacks of crumpled paper, sticky notes, opened books, and closed books with notes sticking out at the top. Mrs. Steers had a genealogy chart in front of her. Using her pencil like a pointer, she checked and double-checked names, places, dates, and extraneous notes.

"Katherine married Thomas. They had Joseph, Christine, and James." She rummaged through one stack, pulling out another yellow pad and pursued those notes.

"Check. Ok, Christine married Matthew and they had Matthew Jr. and George." With that, she pursued the yellow pad again, smiled, and sat back in her chair.

She reassured herself not once, but three times. "It has to be. He just has to be. Lottie, you've got the right person. You've got a descendent."

Mrs. Steers turned to a clean yellow sheet on her pad and wrote a few notes.  She then sat back in her chair.

"Ms. Bookstock?  Are you there?"

From somewhere, she heard a reply.

"I'm here."

"Wonderful. I need to get a message to the Council."  Mrs. Steers straightened her notes.  "I also need your computer to write a report."

"Help yourself.  I will send a message.  What should I say?"

"Urgent.  Ready to report.  Must meet immediately."