After my weekend back-to-back sessions with Bethany on Saturday and Karen on Sunday, I would have expected to be dragging badly on Monday morning. Why would any graduate student in his right mind sign up for an 8 a.m. class on any day, let alone Monday, Wednesday, and Friday?
To my great surprise, however, I awakened Monday morning about 5:30 a.m. feeling remarkably refreshed, even eager, to get up and get going.
I lay there for only a few minutes, then started to get up. My feet had no sooner hit the floor than my cell phone rang.
My first reaction was concern. No one would call me this early unless it was an emergency, so my mind flashed the thought that something might be wrong with one of my parents. I grabbed the phone from the night stand and hit the send button without even looking at the screen.
"Hello!" I practically shouted into the phone.
Apparently my voice reflected my urgency and concern.
"Tom, this is Karen Matsumoto. Are you all right?"
I took a deep breath, confident I could calm down.
"Oh, good morning, Karen. Yes, I'm fine now." I explained why I had answered so abruptly.
"Oh, Tom, I'm terribly sorry. I should have thought first before calling this early. I hope you'll forgive me."
Her voice was sincere. She continued.
"I wanted to catch you before you left your apartment, and I just assumed your cellphone would either be off or would go to voicemail."
"It's all right, Karen. Actually, I was already awake and lying here. I was just getting up when you called. Don't worry. Everything's fine. But, why are you calling this early?"
"Remember, yesterday I explained how when responses to your material started coming in, I would get an automated message on my phone?"
"Yes, but you also said you didn't expect to start getting responses for a week or so."
"Well, I was wrong. I got a message a little after three this morning our time. It was from Japan, but not from one of the members I thought would have the most info and respond the quickest. It came from a small and rather remote museum, not one of the biggies."
"And ...?" I prompted.
"They sent images of some material for comparison to yours. It's a little complicated to explain on the phone. That's why I wanted to catch you before you headed out to the campus. If you'd be willing to loan the original of the authentication letter to us for a few days, I'd like to have our forensic document examiner look at it. Is there any way you could come by my office sometime today and bring the original of the authentication letter with you? "
"Sure. My last class ends at two today. I could be at your office at the airport by two-thirty probably. Would that be soon enough?"
"That would be perfect, Tom. Thank you. When you get here, come to the loading dock door rather than parking in the lot out front. There's an intercom by that door just like the one out front. I'll buzz you in. Just park inside in any open employee parking space."
"And you want me to bring only the authentication letter and not everything else?"
"Yes. You'll understand much better when you get here.
Also, I have another favor to ask of you. If you'll permit it, I'd like to call Bethany and see if she could be there, too. Since it was her keen eye that brought you and your material to my attention, I know she'd be very interested in what the Japan museum has found."
"Yes, of course you can contact her. Even if she can't be there today, I'd like for you to put her on some kind of access list so that you can discuss my material with her any time you think it would be appropriate."
"That's very thoughtful of you, Tom. I'll print up a standard release form for you to sign this afternoon. That will get your permission into the record. By the way, my forensic document examiner, Margaret Gibson, will be there, too. So, I'll see you this afternoon at two-thirty, then.
And Tom, thank you very much for yesterday afternoon. I haven't felt so desired and been so satisfied by a man in years." Karen's very direct remarks left me surprisingly hard.
I took a quick cold shower, then dressed, retrieved the authentication letter from the archival storage box, and headed off for campus.
At my university a student parking permit is nothing more than a hunting license. Still, I was fortunate to find a parking spot in the student lot closest to Hertz Hall. So, after my class ended at 2 p.m., I was able to jump in my car and head toward Karen Matsumoto's office on the north side of the airport.
I arrived about five minutes early and pulled up to the smaller of the two rollup doors.
Karen answered the intercom, and a moment later the door started to slowly raise. The door closed behind me immediately after I drove in and parked. By the time I was out of the car, Karen was at the loading dock. She walked to my car to greet me and escort me in. While we walked, Karen explained that Bethany was already here and waiting inside with the document examiner.
We walked to the small conference room. I greeted Bethany, then Karen introduced me to Margaret Gibson, a certified forensic document examiner and one of the three full-time employees of the library's Special Collection Division.
"Tom, as I said on the phone this morning, I received an unexpectedly quick and detailed reply to the information we put on the network only yesterday.
The responding museum in Japan believes that the elderly couple who bound your book of photos for Misako and Risa Sato are likely the last survivors of several generations of bookbinders. That family, and only that family, were the bookbinders to the Chrysanthemum Throne going back at least to the reign of Emperor Ninko in about 1817. They're still looking, though, to see if their history may be traceable back further.
If Misako's neighbors are that couple, they are not husband and wife but rather brother and sister. They migrated to the United States in 1947, sent here by their parents at age 14 and 11 to stay with their father's brother and his wife in California. Their parents had intended to join them, but both parents died in the 1948 Fukui earthquake. The brother and sister remained legally here and became naturalized citizens of the United States seven years later."
"Short of contacting them personally, is there any way to establish their identity now?" Bethany asked.