CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MORE EVIDENCE

“There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact.”

—Arthur Conan Doyle,
The Boscombe Valley Mystery, 1891

National Archives of Australia, Victorian Archives Centre, 99 Shiel Street, North Melbourne, Victoria, Australia, December 15, 2013

The Mormon senior missionary couples had developed a firm bond over their several months of service in Australia. That bond enabled them to work with an efficiency none of them would have imagined five months ago. In part, their burgeoning success in digitalizing the Victoria Archives Centre’s hand-written records came from the fact that all of them were professionally proficient in performing the complex and difficult electronic tasks of changing old, long-hand, penscript, and barely legible yellowing records into easily accessible digital photographs and computerized documents. Another element of their success was the missionaries’ genuine affection for one another which translated into a love for the work they were doing. A further element of that affection was their genuine conversion to the church in which they had believed all their lives and now saw its practical goodness in ongoing operation. Finally, they began to have fun doing their work; the most fun came from their united effort to solve an enticing mystery.

“Brothers and Sisters, we have another breakthrough in our quest to prove who the mysterious Alexandra Tarasova was. I declare humbly, that I found a great document; and I am graciously willing to share this priceless nugget with you,” Sister Marianne Clyde announced with an impish expression on her cherubic face.

“We’re certainly glad that you have done all of this marvelous work and a wonder in appropriate humility,” joked her husband, Moroni.

“Out with it, Marianne,” insisted Sister Lisa Taylor. “No more suspense. I, for one, could use a bit of uplifting.”

Marianne gently removed a yellow parchment document and a newspaper front page which appeared about to crumble. She placed the papers on a parchment paper lining of the collating table.

The writing on the document was in Cyrillic calligraphy which was a handsome example of the best of Russian handwriting. The meaning was completely obscured by the foreign language and alphabet and required considerable explanation. The newspaper, dated 05, April, 1876, was too long and complicated to permit a full translation; so, the missionaries had to make do with a synopsis kindly provided by the Russian born janitor of the archive centre.

Marianne began, “The gist of the pretty hand writing is that it is an invitation to a debut and birthday party for one Alexandra Abramovna Tarasova. Perhaps you have heard of her?” she said with an impish smile.

“Tell us the rest, Sister Clyde, and hurry up about it,” insisted Sister Taylor again.

“It is on letterhead parchment stationary from the Tarasova Commercial Trading Centre in Vladivostok, Far Eastern Russia. It must have been a very important and very formal occasion given the expensive paper used in the announcement, and goodness only knows how many invitations went out. The newspaper article tells about the grand party and the dignitaries who attended, including captains of industry, an admiral, multiple probably important businessmen and their wives, the commandant of the Balagansk Prison, and two headmen from the Buryat tribes—one local to the Vladivostok area and one from well to the north.”

The missionary couples poured over the documents and made their own scanned copies. It was considered by all of them to be an invaluable piece of their puzzling mystery. It was P-day, and by prior arrangement, the band of senior missionaries set out for another day of low-grade, appropriate, adventure and a quest to learn more about Melbourne. By now, all of them were comfortable with the correct pronunciation for their adopted city—

“Mel bun”.

This time they decided on a vigorous walking tour and started at Southgate to visit the Victorian Arts Center, then crossed the bridge to Swanston Street Walk and on to Collins Street. They quickly took in Bourke Street Mall and did a little cursory shopping. Then, they made the climb up the hill to the State Houses of Parliament. They were not permitted to enter the parliament buildings; so, they went back down to Russell Street and took a tour through the Old Melbourne Gaol. Afterwards, they went back to La Trobe Street and walked through the magnificent State Library, their putative employer.

Sister Lisa Taylor suggested, “Let’s do lunch—as they say in California—I’ve heard of this nice little pub right here by the library. We can have authentic Aussie food.”

The group was rather uncomfortable entering a pub, but one of the men explained that pubs were not like American bars. The Queen Victoria was a nice quiet place, and they quickly lost their misgivings as they enjoyed the pub fare: free bread and cheese, chicken wings, pork slider, deep-fried, breaded calamari, and potato wedges with sweet chili and sour cream. They declined an arm load of pints of Foster’s Lager and had to settle for Diet Coke even though several of them were mildly uncomfortable about the possibility that caffeine drinks were in violation of the Word of Wisdom.

The following morning, they returned to work reinvigorated to continue their official and unofficial searches.