| |
RILEY FINCH ARRIVED at the museum with a clear plan to contact the medical society during her lunch break to ask if they had any records on Doctor Cole. If she ever reached her lunch break. The morning passed painfully slowly. Between watching the clock and explaining the same thing about her filing system to Nick three times, Riley fought to keep her patience. At eleven thirty, she stood. “Hey,” she called to him. “I need to take a break. I’m going for a walk. Let’s start again in an hour. Okay?”
“Do you want company on your walk?”
“Uh, not really. I need to tend to personal stuff.” Riley gestured at her stomach and hoped Nick understood the international code for cramps.
“Oh yeah. No problem. I hope it all—works out?” Nick offered.
Riley replied with a weak smile and a wave.
A few blocks from the museum she caught a bus to take her toward the medical society’s office. Ordinarily she didn’t mind walking or riding her bike, but doing either in the rain didn’t appeal to her today. As she pressed onto the bus among the other passengers with their damp coats and bags, she wondered if she hadn’t made a mistake.
Peering out the foggy window, Riley imagined the skyscrapers shrinking into the low-rise buildings they had replaced. Early images of downtown Vancouver showed streets with brick facades, nothing like the glass towers office workers flowed into and out of today. She loved that the museum was crammed into a three-storey building in Gastown, where building restrictions prevented towers—for now. She pulled the cord to signal her stop, and wove through the passengers to get off.
In the lobby of the building occupied by the Medical Society of British Columbia, a young woman wearing a headset greeted Riley with a smile. She held up a finger and Riley waited while she finished the call. “Can I help you?”
“Hi, yes, I hope so. I work with the museum.” Riley unzipped her jacket and pointed to the ID badge hanging from a lanyard around her neck. “Anyway, I was hoping to research your early members. It might tie in to an exhibit I’m working on.” An official-sounding inquiry might help get the information she was looking for.
“Like, original members?”
“I suppose. I’m looking at late nineteenth century. Do you have any information about members from that time?”
“I need to check with someone. She might be on lunch. Let me try,” the receptionist said. She dialled a number, then looked at Riley. “Oh hi, Grace. It’s Steph at reception, and I have someone here from the museum with a question. Can you come down to see her?” Steph smiled at Riley and gave her a thumbs-up. “Yes, she’s waiting here. I will.” Steph touched a button on her headset. “Our director of membership, Grace Lee, is available in a few minutes. If you sit down, she’ll come and talk to you.” Steph gestured to the chairs and coffee table to the side of the reception desk.
Before Riley sat, a tall woman stepped off the elevator, her heels clicking against the tile floor. “Thanks, Steph,” she called as she walked toward Riley with her hand extended. “Hi. You’re with the museum?”
Riley shook the offered hand. “Yes, I’m an archivist, and I’m working on an exhibit about the police in the city’s early years. I’d like to learn a little about one of your members; his name keeps popping up, I guess because he helped the police.”
Grace tilted her head and exhaled. “Why don’t you give me his name and your contact information. I’ll let you know what I find.”
“Thank you.” Riley swallowed, then blurted out the next question. “Any chance I can review the materials you find? I’m familiar with handling old documents.”
“Anything we find needs to stay in this office. I can get someone to start today, though I don’t know how long it will take.”
“I understand.” Riley paused. Would Jack just walk away? “It’s only, this is my first exhibit, and I want to be thorough. Do you need a request in writing?”
Grace shook her head. “No, it’s fine. These guys are long dead, and though I’m not sure what information we have, I can arrange for you to access the documents on-site for an afternoon. Would that work?”
Riley bounced lightly on her toes. “Thank you. Here, I’ll give you my email and phone number. I’ll cross my fingers you find something.”