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“Your principal sent you to me for counselling. I haven’t the slightest idea why—no reason I should, actually. I suspect you have above average powers of observation and ratiocination.” She hesitated, her eyes not wavering from the young woman’s. “Well, do you?” Sister Agnes’s penetrating gaze made Elsie Landers uneasy, but she stayed rigid in her chair and attempted to size up her situation. Mother Superior had sent her directly to this nun in the theater department with no explanation. No one she knew had ever had that experience.
She swallowed and ventured, “My grades in math and the sciences have been good. I’m better in analytical writing than both of those subjects. I know the word ‘ratiocination’ from studying Edgar Alan Poe. I like solving puzzles. One day I might become a detective—or a spy like my father and brother.”
“Is your brother’s name Isaac Landers?”
“Yes. He graduated Georgetown University last year and now works for the Central Intelligence Agency.”
Sister Agnes seemed to be considering something. Her gray eyes narrowed. She leaned forward in her chair. “I’m going to take a wild stab at a possibility. Are you aware that Nancy Smart has been removed from this school for personal reasons?”
Guardedly, Elsie said, “Everyone knows she got pregnant. No one knows what she and her parents are going to do about the situation.”
“Were you aware that she was the editor of the For Eyes student newspaper?”
“Yes. We are all required to read the newspaper. I’ve been serving as an odd-lot photographer and occasional investigative reporter. For Eyes has been one of my favorite extracurricular activities.”
“That’s all well and good. My question to you is, what would you do to improve the newspaper if you were put in charge of it?”
Elsie was shell-shocked at the idea. But as her father had drilled her to do, she took a deep breath before she answered—and, after she exhaled slowly, she stated her frank opinion regardless of the consequences. “If I were queen for a day, I’d treat the paper like a grown-up business and not like child’s play. Stories would be about things that really matter to the students. Opinion pieces would resonate with common events from the students’ point of view. And investigations would be published—with no faux news allowed.”
Sister smiled and held up both her hands when she saw Elsie was about to launch into a tirade. She shook his head and laughed. Wisely Elsie took no offense but relaxed in her chair and cocked her head to listen.
“I’ve just been appointed as the new moderator of For Eyes. That’s in addition to my work as the school librarian and the theater director. I’m scared to death of my new assignment, and overnight I’ve got to select a team of students to manage the paper and write the news. I’m thinking you’re just the kind of person who could do the job, but you’ll need staff you can trust to work with you. Do you know, say, four or five classmates who would work with you on For Eyes?”
“Are you asking me to recruit students for you?”
“No, Miss Landers, I’m asking you to recruit students for you. I’m sure if I randomly appointed your newspaper staffers, you’d be disappointed. You might also suspect that I had planted informers in your midst from day one. Besides, I’d like to give you this challenge as your proof to me that you can do the job.”
“I’m a little dense sometimes, Sister Agnes. Will you please spell out exactly what my role would be—if I should choose to accept it?”
“I fear your Latin studies are showing, but I like a good should-would construction. To your question: you would be promoted immediately to Editor of For Eyes. You would attend class in the newspaper office every afternoon from one-thirty to three o’clock. Each month, you’d put the copy for the paper to bed—with my help if you need it. And, of course, you would get the glory of seeing your name in the masthead and bylines for the articles and op-ed pieces you would write.”
Elsie adjusted her body in her chair and wrinkled her brow. The theater director was treating her like an adult, and she liked that. Yet she was suspicious.
“Yes, the perks are clear, but there would be a downside too. As editor, I’d be at the epicenter of controversy, responsible for every misstep including those of my staffers. Would I also be responsible for filling the ad space and for profit and loss?”
Sister Agnes said, “Lucky for you, your ill-starred predecessor secured the advertisements to fund all issues for the school year. But, yes, you would be the person who’d receive the angry letters-to-the-editor and fend off attempts of faculty like me and administrators like the Mother Superior to skew the news or spike your best stories.”
“Sister Agnes, I’d like to ask you a question.”
“I’ll answer any question I can, but our time is short. What’s your question?”
“Have you ever moderated a student newspaper like For Eyes?”
The nun shook her head. “At Red Bank, I was editor of my high school paper, and I worked daily with the moderator. But I was never moderator. This gig would be the first such for me. I’d be learning on the fly.”
Elsie was pleased by the woman’s honesty. She then asked, “What would you need from me?”
“I’d need the names of the four students you’d like to be your staffers. I’d want you to include on your list two alternate names in case some demur.”
Elsie took a small spiral notebook from her purse. She opened it and poised a pen over the first blank page. Methodically, she printed six names. When she was finished, she tore out the page and handed her list to Sister Agnes.
“What’s next, Sister?”
“When you’ve interviewed your staff, you’ll plan your next moves. I’m a moderator, not a dictator.”
“Sister Agnes, please tell me there is no catch or hidden agenda to my assignment!”
She smiled, Elsie thought endearingly, and she said, “I can’t do that. In fact, I won’t. It’s always hard to determine the motives of the church hierarchy. Mother Superior has always been a riddle for me. Will you forgive me for being ignorant of Vatican-style intrigues?”
Elsie frowned. “It seems to me we’ve both got a lot of learning to do. I can’t imagine anything more fraught with complexity than composing a newspaper in the middle of the chaos of a church adrift and the new media.”
The nun sat back in her chair suddenly. “You remind me of something important: I’d like to move our print For Eyes to the web. Is anyone on your list capable of helping with that?”
Elsie looked at her hands as she counted off the names. “Five of the names I wrote on the paper I gave you have social media skills to die for.”
“And network security?”
“To be frank, we’re going to have to look far beyond the walls of St. Lucy’s to find anyone good enough at network security to be useful.”
“Do you have a name for me?”
“The only person I know who can do that well is my brother, but he has no time to help. He could probably name a few others among his friends, but you’re talking rare and expensive skills.”
The nun nodded. “Okay. That’s enough for now. Please round up your friends for a lunch meeting in the cafeteria. You and I will do our interviews throughout the lunch hour in the small conference room at the entrance to the cafeteria. I’ll reserve that room. If any of the people on your list decides against interviewing, just eliminate her from our consideration.”
“Sister Agnes, I haven’t said yes yet.”
With a frown, the nun said, “Neither have I. So we’re going ahead even.”
***
THE INTERVIEWS WENT as planned. Elsie hired five, not four, staffers, one for each of the three pages of the newspaper (her own prerogative being control of the editorial page), one for information technology transition and one for new media and formatting. Silently, Sister Agnes observed Elsie conduct the interviews and make the assignments. Elsie wrote a brief summary of their meetings, and she reviewed it with her future moderator.
“That was a fine job, Elsie, and an excellent report. How do you feel about what has just happened?”
Elsie took a deep breath. “I have more questions. For example, I’d like to know how much of the news material already prepared for the next issue is expendable?”
“The next issue has been composed, but nothing is written in stone. You and your staff can start with a blank news hole if you like. The ads are fixed though. They will keep you solvent.”
“When will you and I meet each week?”
“We’ll meet anytime you like. Just ask me. And each Thursday afternoon I’ll drop by your office around two-thirty pm to chat—with no pressure intended.”
“Then I’ll accept the job, and my friends will accept too, if you’ll have us.”
Sister Agnes extended her hand, and Elsie shook it firmly. They had made a deal. Elsie then looked at her watch. It was one-twenty pm.
“Good grief! I’ve got to run to my one-thirty class.”
“Do you really?”
“Should I go directly to the news office?”
“Yes. Meanwhile, with your permission, I’ll give your report to the Mother Superior and tell her our plans for the newspaper.”
***
THE FIRST HALF OF THE day had sped by. When Elsie reached her office, her staffers were already assembled there. Each had occupied the desk reserved for her role in the newspaper. At the central wooden conference table was the rough mock-up of what might have been the next issue of For Eyes. The two media wonks were huddling about how they planned to convert the dinosaur print issue into something more like a net-worthy, social media product.
Elsie’s staff became quiet when she walked through the door. As she had hired them, they waited for her to speak to set the tone for their relationship. She did not disappoint them.
“I’m glad you’re here. As I said during our interviews, we’re on a mission. We’re going to transform For Eyes into a modern, web-based news organ. Our first job will be to slice and dice what has already been planned for the first issue—excepting only the adverts, which shall remain intact.
“As editor, I’m in charge—and I’ll make all the decisions, but you all have responsibilities for which I will hold you accountable. Sister Agnes is our moderator, and I expect we can trust her. I will also expect that I can trust each of you. We’re going to run an open shop. Some things must be kept secret, but in the main, we’ll be laying out our news harvesting in plain view.”
Susan asked, “What kinds of secrets will we be keeping?”
Elsie nodded. “That’s a fair question. Privacy issues are a concern. We don’t want to slander anyone. All facts will be checked up front. When something feels funny to you, let me know.”
Sharon said, “Please give us an example of a privacy issue we have to keep secret.”
Elsie nodded. “The reason for the departure of the former editor of For Eyes would be one.”
“I see what you mean. All right.”
Elizabeth asked, “I’m the feature editor. Are you imposing any limits to what I can cover?”
“Each editor will make all initial decisions for her page. You only have so much space to fill. You’ll have to be economical and wise about what you cover and how you do that.”
Bianca looked at her sports page critically. “I’m sure the sports content will not fit in the space provided on my page.”
Elsie said, “Well discuss that in private. You do the stories and the stats. We’ll shape them to fit or lag your copy over to other pages as necessary.”
Natalie, the IT wizard, said, “I’d like to move fast to our web-based presence. What are my constraints?”
Elsie furrowed her brow. “Your key constraint will be security. Sister Agnes and I will be handling that piece from outside St. Lucy’s.”
The editor looked at her social media expert. “Constance, what do you think?”
The flaming red-head said, “I’m excited to be here. I’ll be working with Natalie and your security maven to set up the framework. I’ll want to talk with each of the page editors to get ideas for content and presentation styles. For the most part, I’ll be the fly on the wall. So that we can communicate with each other, I’ll establish a password-protected web page for staff only by tomorrow morning. By early tomorrow afternoon, I’ll distribute passwords and access protocols. Mind you, this will not be the final state for this page. And we’ll have to be careful we don’t include privacy information like Elsie described.”
Elsie nodded and looked from one face to another until she had made explicit eye contact with each of her staff. She liked what she saw in their enthusiasm. She decided to bring them together as a team.
“I’d like to make one thing clear. We’ll succeed if we stick together and play as a team. If we descend to in-fighting and back-biting, we’ll quickly descend into chaos. Before that happens, I’ll go to Sister Agnes and Mother Superior and quit.”
Waving her hand in the air, Bianca asked, “Elsie, what kind of news and editorial materials will we be including? Features and sports are relatively easy to determine—we just go with the flow of school events. Tell us a little about your news and editorial policies.”
Elsie had not planned to outline her policies on this first day, but Bianca’s opening could not be ignored. She jumped into the fray with gusto.
“We are going to turn For Eyes into an adult, investigative newspaper. We’ll report on issues meaningful to the entire student body, our community and the world. Our editorials will cover the big ideas about our future.”
Natalie asked, “For example?”
“For example, human rights, civility of politics, equal opportunity, the lot. I have been compiling a list of investigations, and I’ll need your help in suggesting more such ideas.”
Susan’s brow furrowed. “Your predecessor was rumored to be a snitch. Are you a snitch too?”
“If by that you mean she was a tattle tale who was always running to the principal with stories about her fellow students, I can’t address that. I can say that I won’t be doing the same. We have turned the page. I do have a word of warning to outsiders, though: our investigative style will be honest, factual and thorough. When we publish a story, it will be the truth. Sister Agnes and I have agreed that hidden agendas have no place in our newspaper.”
Elsie waited for a moment for her remarks to sink in. Then she said, “We have time to review the materials our predecessors made for the next issue of the paper. I’d like each of you to provide a critique of the materials in your section. While you’re doing that, I’ll discuss the transformation to electronic form of For Eyes with Natalie and Constance in the conference room. By the by, I will be scrapping the front page and editorial page contents in favor of our new beginning.”
The sports and feature page editors hastened to their tasking while Elsie met with her IT mavens in the separate room.
“Constance, I like your idea for a private, staff-only web page as a start. How hard will it be to convert that into a final product For Eyes site?”
“It shouldn’t be very hard. I’ll build trap doors for each staff member to use to compose her materials. When you want to pull the pieces together, I’ll have used a Layout program to show us the news hole (net of ad space). It will be as simple as cut-and-pace as long as everyone follows the rules we set for type and size. I constructed my mother’s garden society web page. We can review that anytime you like.”
“Good,” Elsie said. She turned to Natalie and asked, “Will you please give me the requirements for our infrastructure as soon as possible?”
“I’ll have a rough draft for your review tomorrow morning. I’m going to call a friend in the IT department of the city newspaper for some ideas. I believe we’ll need a proxy at the front end to filter out malware and spam.”
Elsie beamed with delight. “As for the security piece, we’ll have to go beyond anti-virus software, but we’ll start there. As for distribution, how will we manage that?”
Constance said, “We can use the protocols we practice on the staff-only site, with access granted to the students, faculty, administration and staff. I’m sure each function will want its own private area for discussions, so we should be prepared to assist.”
Natalie frowned. “We will be playing a dangerous game as we expand our capability. A minute ago we were talking about For Eyes staff only extending to the campus functional people. Now Constance has alluded to the inevitable requirements-creep of the electronic capability per se.”
Elsie felt her own brow furrowing. Natalie had a point. The fledgling editor realized she needed a policy determination at higher levels. “I fear you are correct, Natalie. I’ll have to get a read-out from Sister Agnes on that. I suspect we’ll have to limit expansion for a while. I’ll be recommending that we limit our web presence to the newspaper and its subscribers only.”
The IT people looked relieved by this decision.
“Let’s go hear what the page editors have determined.”
The decisions by her page editors were mixed. The features editor wanted to start again from scratch but wanted the option to fall back on the pre-determined stories if new features could not be created in time to meet the deadline. The sports editor wanted to keep everything that had been done by way of sports content. Her concern was to include statistics so the sports news had a context.
By three o’clock Elsie felt her staff had done a good first day’s work. Her staff departed as Sister Agnes arrived to see how things had gone.
“I did not see any frowning faces among your staff, Elsie.”
“It’s early. Still, I believe we had a good day. We have strategies for our next-issue pages, and we know what we want to do for the first phase of the transition to the web. I’ll need your help with one aspect of the transition—scope.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“While Natalie, Constance and I talked things over, the potential for expanding our web presence to uses beyond the newspaper arose. Evidently, a new web capability suggests many things to users beyond the intended audience. For a while, at least, we want to limit our access to St. Lucy’s subscribers to For Eyes.”
Sister Agnes nodded. “I think I understand your concern. For now, limit your scope. I’ll ask Mother Superior what she thinks. I want to tread softly as a wrong move could shut us down.”
“Now you’re being cryptic.”
“I don’t mean to be. Our Catholic heritage sometimes gives narrow people what they think is license to denigrate new technologies. Mother Superior will know how to deal with this matter. I wouldn’t be surprised, though, if she decided to pay you a visit to discuss your plans sometime soon.”
“In the mean time, we’ll press forward.”
The nun said, “I would expect you to do that. Meanwhile, if you get indications that you have trouble, you know how to reach me.”
“I know how to reach you physically at the theater department, but I don’t have your off-campus contact data.”
Sister Agnes handed Elsie her business card—the first such card she had received from any faculty at St. Lucy’s. The logo on the card was a plate with two eyes on it, the sign of Sr. Lucy. Under the logo the words, “Investigative Services,” appeared.
Elsie’s jaw dropped open. Before she could speak, Sister Agnes raised her index finger to her lips to silence her. “You are the only student to whom I have given my private card. Please don’t divulge its contents to anyone—not even the Mother Superior.”
Elsie said, “No, of course not.” She tucked the card inside her bra. After a few moments of pleasantries during which they discussed the Radon issue that had perplexed the nun, Sister Agnes departed and Elsie closed the news office for the day.
At home that evening, Elsie shared the information about her new role to her mother, who listened attentively but remained quiet for a few minutes after she had heard all her daughter had to say.
Mrs. Landers said, “That’s the way it always seems to happen. At least that was the case with your brother.”
“Do you mean that my brother was editor of his junior high school newspaper?”
“Yes, and his high school paper as well. He wasn’t the least bit interested in doing analysis before he became a news man. Once he found his way, he could think of doing nothing else. Investigations became his passion. I think that’s why the Agency took such an interest in cultivating him.”
“Was Dad groomed that way too?”
“You’ll have to ask him whenever he gets home again.”
Elsie put that idea on her mental ‘to-do’ list. She then did her homework, and, just before going to bed, she did some lateral research on the subject of Radon. She wondered why Sister Agnes mentioned that radioactive element in such a way that implied an enduring interest. She shrugged, and, as her father had advised when she was very young, she drew no conclusions but slept on the ideas she had gleaned from surfing the web.
In the morning, Elsie leapt out of bed and raced through her morning routine. She zipped through her ordinary classes, looking forward to getting to her news room for a good afternoon with her newspaper staff. The first to arrive after her were Natalie and Constance, both eager to continue their discussions about the transition of the newspaper to the web. Elsie had her own ideas to pursue. She put their technical questions on hold—except to assure them that Sister Agnes agreed to limit their scope to their subscribers for the near term.
“What I need to know from you is whatever you can find about a connection between St. Lucy’s and our city’s connection to Radon.”
Constance smiled. “Do I smell a chase?”
Natalie dug her elbow into Constance’s ribs and said, “Don’t listen to her, Elsie. We’re on your case like ferrets.”
Elsie pondered what she would be putting on Page One of her maiden issue as the others came to the office. Seeing their editor hard at work and the two web mavens madly searching for something online, they followed suit by immersing themselves in their pages.
Natalie was the first to hit a vein of gold on the subject of Radon and St. Lucy’s. A city reporter covering the gift of the Hewlett estate to the Order of St. Lucy opined that the venerable mansion that now formed the nucleus of the St. Lucy Middle School should probably be tested for presence of Radon gas. No reason was given for this comment, but Elsie asked Natalie to print out what she had discovered. She made a list of things she wanted discovered in a second search—which was to check whether a Radon test was ever done and, if not, what it would take to do such a test today.
Natalie rushed to her computer to accomplish her new task. Meanwhile, Constance returned with the news that the entire city was sensitive to high levels of Radon gas. No one transferred real estate without a Radon test, which required no more today than buying a kit from a hardware store and situating it in the basement of the subject house.
Natalie overheard Constance’s remark about the Radon kit. She chimed in, “And the cheapest kits are available for less than twenty dollars—here is a list of stores where we could purchase one today. I can find no indication that such a test was ever done during the transfer of the Hewlett estate to the Order. I’m not sure whether there was a waiver, or what.”
The young women, encouraged by what they had found, continued to dig through the afternoon. By three o’clock, they had collaborated on a report that Elsie said would make the first installment in a series they would do for their newspaper. First, though, she wanted to fly the idea by Sister Agnes.
Elsie found the nun hard at work cleaning her lighting equipment in the theater. She proudly presented her Radon story. Instead of the approval she had expected, Sister Agnes snapped, “So where you think all this information leads?”
“Does it matter, really?”
“Consider that it may lead to law suits, land and building repossessions, medical inquiries, and a whole host of measures that will embarrass the school, the city, the Church and the real estate industry for the surrounding fifty miles.”
“Oops.”
“Big oops. One of the first lessons I learned as an editor I’ll share with you now: nothing about the news is innocuous. Everything, no matter how factual, can split opinion into warring factions. As such, an editor’s obligation is to anticipate the combat of ideas, perhaps even to shape it.”
“Are you asking me to bury my story?”
“Anything but that. I’m asking you to discover ALL the facts, not just a few superficial details before you publish.”
“You said you had done research on Radon gas.”
“I have done so. You’ll recall that I also said I was perplexed. The factors about Radon are contradictory and confusing.”
“Isn’t it true that Radon is carcinogous? That it can cause cancer a quarter of a century after exposure? That in some cases the gas is present in such concentration it is impossible not to be affected?”
The nun nodded. “All those things are true. It’s also true that the conditions for monitoring Radon are always an issue, that lawyers fighting on both sides of any Radon issue are going to arrive in court with different experts saying widely divergent things and that St. Lucy’s has been through most of the legal hoops before.”
“What?”
“You heard me, Elsie. I have been tracking the history, for the same reasons you have. I’m going to let you read my findings so you’ll know what you’re getting into. I warn you: you are entering a killing field. At least one reporter has lost her life to the Radon issue. I would not want you to be another such casualty.”
Elsie gratefully accepted the one-hundred-fifty-page document Sister Agnes gave her, “Radon: Truth and Fiction.” With a heavy heart, she walked home with the tome under her arm.
The fledgling editor did not mention what she had learned to her mother. She did her regular homework before she began reading Sister Agnes’ work. It was three o’clock in the morning before she finished. She drew no immediate conclusions before she fell asleep.
The next morning, Mrs. Landers said, “You were burning the midnight oil till late last night. I hope you found what you were looking for.”
“Mom, it’s too early to say what I’ve found, but I believe it is going to change my life.”
Mrs. Landers knew better than to pry into the secret thoughts of her brilliant family. She regarded her daughter’s comment with seriousness. With small gestures, she let Elsie knew she supported her in whatever she was doing.
On the way to St. Lucy’s, Elsie almost stepped in front of a moving automobile. At the last minute, she stepped back on the curb. She wondered why the driver had not seen her. Then she remembered what Sister Agnes had admonished. Was this the beginning of something threatening to her life? The reporter the nun had written about had drowned shortly after she made her momentous discovery that the presence of Radon at St. Lucy’s had been covered up by a member of the school’s board of directors, who happened to be an area realtor.
Before she went to her classes, Elsie dropped by the theater building to return the document to Sister Agnes. She did not have time for anything but a quick goodbye. The nun mentioned she would drop by the newspaper office late before the end of school. Elsie did not mention her close call with the automobile on her way to school.
The entire staff was abuzz with talk about Radon when Elsie arrived in the news office. Most of the information in Sister Agnes’ report was available on line, and the staff had pieced the evidence together, except for two important details—the name of the realtor who was on the school’s board and the fact that the former editor of the school paper had been investigating the Radon issue when she was suddenly removed from the school. Elsie now wondered whether her predecessor had been a victim of her research rather than a rape victim, or that both had occurred in some odd confluence of related events.
Elsie calmly accepted the evidence her staff had brought together. She did not mention the two lacunae in their harvest. She thanked everyone for their efforts and promised to share the byline for the final version of her article. She reserved the right to be the only author of the op-ed piece that brought everything together.
Late that afternoon the nun arrived in the company of the Mother Superior. Elsie escorted the ladies into the small conference room and gave the Mother Superior the seat of honor.
“Elsie, congratulations on your appointment as editor of For Eyes. I’m sure you appreciate the pun behind the newspaper’s name—four eyes being a pejorative for those, like us, who wear spectacles. I like to think the paper is the investigative arm of this school. Sister Agnes tells me that you agree. Is that so?”
“Yes, Ma’am, I do. I’m learning my role is a two-edged sword, cutting all ways at once.”
“That’s a good lesson, but it comes with a cost.”
“Will you please explain that, Mother Superior?”
“At your age, I was editor of my junior high newspaper. I did not seek the honor; it was thrust upon me. I hardly knew what I was getting into. Very soon I was in the middle of a great controversy I had not anticipated. Everything I did made things worse. I persevered, but I was forever changed in the process. I don’t say this to seem threatening. The last thing you need now is intimidation. I have discussed your quandary about the Radon business with Sister Agnes. She will share our conversation with you. Your choice will to persevere with your investigation or to desist and let a sleeping dog lie. Do you understand me?”
“Mother Superior, you have made yourself crystal clear. I would like to ask one question. May I?”
“Yes. What is your question?”
“Was the Radon issue the defining reason that my predecessor left this school?”
“Elsie, I don’t discuss the private affairs of students with other students. I will state that your predecessor left for many reasons, among them her passion for getting the truth about Radon into the public domain.”
Sister Agnes said, “Mother Superior, thank you for coming to clarify the situation for Elsie. I’m sure she appreciates your view. We won’t take any more of your precious time.”
“Allow me to say that I look forward to seeing the next issue of For Eyes. I have great hopes for the newspaper becoming a force for good at this school and in the community outside it. Have a good evening. And good luck.” The stately lady rose and left the premises, leaving the nun and the newspaper woman together alone.
“Sister Agnes, I won’t let go. I’m going to publish the truth about the Radon and St. Lucy’s. Will you back me?”
“Yes, Elsie. And Mother Superior has already told me she would back you to the hilt. So seek the truth and publish it. Watch your back. A lot of people are counting on you.”
“You mention in your work a woman you interviewed in a nursing home in town. At the time she was ninety-three years old. Is she still alive and active?”
“Why don’t you visit the home and talk with her? It’s only fair that you hear her story from her own mouth.”
The nun returned to her theater. Elsie used her cell phone to call the nursing home to make an appointment to see Adele Mason. After a long wait, she was informed by the receptionist that Ms. Mason would meet her for tea in the pavilion of the home at two o’clock on Saturday afternoon. To say that Elsie was on pins and needles before her audience with Ms. Mason would be an understatement. The rest of her week flew by in an admixture of administrivia and frantic research.
***
ELSIE DRESSED FOR TEA in her best dress. She carried her notebook under her arm. In her wire rimmed glasses, she looked like a school marm. That was fitting because Ms. Mason was a former school teacher, who had dressed in her best dress. She too wore wire-rimmed spectacles. She invited the editor to sit across from her. They both received tea and a choice of petit fours.
“We are having what used to be called Indian Summer. It’s a good time to be on the hunt, don’t you think?”
Elsie blinked at her hostess’s lively expression. “Yes, I do. I understand you have the all the keys to a matter I have been investigating. I’m delighted you agreed to meet on short notice. Will you please tell me the story of the Radon and St. Lucy’s? It’s for a story I’m about to write on the subject.”
The elderly woman nodded and pursed her lips. “Eldridge Hamilton is the name of the man who wanted everything buried and forgotten. I told him that nothing lies buried forever. He went to his grave thinking his secret would be safe. Now here we are to exhume it. Don’t you think that’s fitting?”
“I might if I knew what the score was.”
“Surely, you knew that the Radon test everyone wanted was scotched at the last minute by Hamilton. He fixed the situation with the realty board, of which he was a member, and with the Hewlett Estate, to which he was related by marriage. At stake was a tax write off for the gift of the St. Lucy’s property to the Order of St. Lucy. Think what might have happened if a high Radon level had been detected at the time!”
“I presume that the imputed value of the gift would have been diminished.”
“Yes, but the elimination of the threat would have cost a minor fortune too. So the gift was tainted. And, of course, it might have been withdrawn forthwith. That would not have pleased the Church any more than it pleased the Hewlett heirs.”
“Was no Radon test administered?”
Ms. Mason smiled. “In fact, a test was done—in the basement of the old house. I happen to have the results of that test. I brought a new copy of the old paper for you to use as you like.” She passed Elsie the precious copy. It consisted of a single page with the usual official signatures and a few numbers. Elsie could see that the numbers were enormous, well above acceptable levels.
“Thank you, I think, Ms. Mason. You’ve saved me the trouble and expense of another Radon test.”
“And I’ve given you contemporary data, without which you might not be able to substantiate a past condition.”
“Why have you decided to give this priceless evidence to me?”
“Miss Landers, I’m going to be ninety-odd years old this year, and I don’t think I’ll live much longer. I have been diagnosed with cancer, and I am convinced I contracted the cancer while I worked as a teacher at St. Lucy’s Middle School. I had the symptoms of Radon poisoning before I retired, so I got curious. My research resulted in such incontrovertible evidence that I might have won a court case—but to what end? I did not need any money. I thought the only use my research could do was to have the Radon removed so no one else got the same cancer I have.”
“Do you have a physician who can attest to your current medical condition?”
“I brought you her calling card—Dr. Millicent Hargrove. She’s right down the street at Hopgood Hospital, in the oncology department. She took over my case from Dr. Ron Phillips, the one famous for isolating the links from Radon gas to cancer. I was the index case for his landmark study. Anyway, I hold no grudges to the Hewlett Estate, to the Church, or to St. Lucy’s.”
“Ms. Mason, would you mind if I took your picture? I’d like to use it with my article.”
“I suppose I have no objection, but I don’t have a touch-up artist to prepare me. I must look a frightful mess.” A health assistant rushed to the table to help Ms. Mason to her feet. The woman used a brush to tidy the old woman’s hair and stood beside her by the flowers while Elsie used her cell phone camera to take a dozen photos.
The ladies said their goodbyes. Elsie watched as the assistant escorted Ms. Mason to her room. She palmed the Radon test results as she departed the facility. She felt exhausted when she reached home.
“Did you find everything you wanted?” asked her mother.
“I need to make only one final phone call to complete my research. I am so excited; I can hardly wait to finish my article.”
***
THE NEXT MONDAY AFTERNOON, Elsie phoned the office of Ms. Mason’s current doctor, who would not address her patient’s medical data without her explicit, written permission according to HIPPA rules. Elsie then phoned Ms. Mason, but she was told that the woman had been rushed to the hospital the last weekend. She passed on Sunday afternoon.
Despondent, Elsie went to Sister Agnes. The two discussed the state of affairs, and Elsie showed the nun the Radon test results that she had been given at last Saturday’s tea. Looking through the obit pages, they found the notice they were looking for. Explicit in the notice was the cause of Ms. Mason’s death—terminal cancer.
“Do you think I have a prima facie case?”
“I think you have enough evidence to be dangerous, but your case is not conclusive. The think you add to the picture is the high Radon numbers in a test contemporaneous with the transfer of the property. That alone is worthy of publication, but it does not prove your case.”
“I’m going to go with what I have and damn the torpedoes!”
“You’ve chosen the right statement. Those torpedoes were actually superannuated and mostly defective mines. Likewise, I don’t think much practical use will be made of your evidence. Still . . ..”
“You were going to say something?”
“Yes. This has been a good lesson for you and your staff. You have been thorough—and you came as close as journalism could have to solving a great mystery. So far, you’ve survived, and you’ve shown you had the guts and determination to see your work to its logical conclusion.”
“Thank you, I guess. Will you let me share the pride of publication by giving you a byline?”
“No, thank you,” Sister Agnes said with a smile. “You picked up the ball and carried it to the goal. Now you’re going to have to withstand the blasts that come with glory. I must shift to help Mother Superior deal with threats on another level entirely.”
“Do you think it would be wise for me to attempt to do a story on that as a follow-up?”
“No. That would be a bridge too far, and it would touch on Church politics.”
“What satisfaction can I derive from this exercise?”
“You raised the Radon issue as it should be raised, as a medical issue with long-term consequences. Radon, after all, is the second most cancer-causing killer after tobacco. The real estate folks must pay more attention to doing Radon testing and remediation. For that matter, St. Lucy’s should remediate the Radon problem at the school. When you are ninety-odd years old, I hope you aren’t stricken with incurable cancer on account of your tenure here.”
“Amen to that.”
At the door to the newspaper office appeared a man with two dozen red roses and baby’s breath with ferns. The attached card said, “Congratulations, with Love Dad!”
Elsie wondered how her father knew about—everything. She thought her mother must have been the leaker, but how much did he know? She did not care right now except to place the flowers in an enormous vase with water and preservative salts from a florist’s complimentary packet. She wanted everyone on her staff to share the beauty of the bouquet.
***
AFTER THE PUBLICATION of the first issue of the new For Eyes, congratulatory letters arrived from all over the city. A Radon eradication crew arrived at the school to do their work. No court cases arose. No further cases of cancer deaths within fifty miles were adduced to the effects of Radon. Elsie Landers went on to other investigations, each important in new ways. She had established a reputation she could build on, and she vowed not to let her initial conquest go to her head. By accident, she had played her cards into the best result possible. Her newspaper’s moderator trusted her judgment, and her principal tackled all criticism from the Church that might have come at her.
Sometimes, much later, Elsie wondered whether her brother had experienced anything remotely like her Radon investigations. She never got a chance to ask him before she was accepted into the Agency. Afterward, she would have been sworn to silence anyway.