by Clea Simon
‘Of course.’ Dulcie stepped in, before Jerry could say any more. ‘Anyway, thanks for coming.’
Just then another figure emerged: Doug, holding an industrial-size flashlight. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘It’s getting dark out. Maybe you could use this.’
‘Awesome.’ Trista stepped forward to take the light, and Dulcie followed. ‘Is Heath here, too?’
‘I thought he was.’ Roni was looking around, as if the golden-haired star would appear suddenly out of the gloom.
‘Nah, he took off about an hour ago.’ Avila said. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were doing a search?’
‘Well, we knew you were getting ready for a performance,’ Dulcie hedged, but Avila was shaking her head.
‘Bob canceled,’ she said. ‘Didn’t even come in – just called. That’s why Heath split. The weather forecast is dire and, well, the house was less than half sold anyway. Right, Roni?’
‘It’s pretty bad,’ the other woman agreed. Only then did Dulcie notice that the office manager wasn’t wearing a coat. Leaning against the wall, her arms wrapped around her, she was visibly shivering.
‘You must be freezing.’ As Dulcie walked toward her, she could see the other woman’s lips turning blue. ‘You shouldn’t be out here.’
‘Neither should you.’ Dulcie turned as the alley lit up, bright as day. But the glaring light that shone down into the alley kept her from seeing where the voice – male, deep – came from. ‘One of you is a Ms Schwartz?’
‘Yes, that’s me.’ One hand over her eyes, she took a step forward. Up ahead, she could see two figures, both of whom appeared to be holding large lights.
‘Ms Dulcinea Schwartz?’ said the one on the right. For a moment the light bobbed, and Dulcie could make out a dark blue parka with a badge on it. ‘The rest of you should leave before this storm gets any worse. But you, Ms Schwartz,’ the voice said, as the other figure, also male, stepped toward her. ‘You’re going to have to come with us.’
THIRTY-ONE
‘What? Why?’ Chris stepped forward, as if he were going to challenge the man Dulcie could now see was a Cambridge police officer. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Chris, wait.’ Dulcie turned back to stop him. As much as she appreciated his coming to her defense, she didn’t think that confronting a cop was the way to do it. As she reached for her boyfriend, however, she saw a flash – a movement back beyond him. ‘Wait—’
She took another step – just to make sure – and felt a hand land on her shoulder.
‘Dulcie!’
She whipped around, ignoring her own counsel and ready to argue with the officer. ‘This is important—’ She began, but the rest of the sentence never came. ‘Suze!’
Instead of the uniformed officer she expected, Dulcie found herself face to face with her old friend.
‘Sorry.’ Suze pulled down the scarf that had covered the lower half of her face. ‘Didn’t mean to startle you, but this weather …’
She didn’t have to elaborate. The snow was coming down fast and thick, falling in clumps that filled the angled street light and then seemed to disappear. Except that it wasn’t: even on the black pavement, the snow was no longer melting, and white ridges had begun to accumulate between the shrinking puddles of slush.
‘No, I’m glad you’re here.’ Dulcie took her friend’s hand. ‘But I thought I—’
‘Ms Schwartz?’ The cop was waiting. ‘Would you come with us, please?’
‘No, she won’t.’ This time, Suze turned to confront them. ‘What is this about, anyway?’
‘It’s Gus!’ Dulcie pointed. ‘Gus – the missing cat!’
It was hard to look up. The snow might look gentle, but it was cold and wet. Keeping her eye on the roofline, Dulcie blinked it away. ‘There!’ Gus, perched on the gutter, blinked down at them and then stretched. Dulcie was struck by the thought that the commotion below had woken him from a nap. The stretch turned into a step as one outstretched paw came down on the snow-slick roofing, to be followed by another. Tail high, as calmly as if he were on level ground, the silver-grey cat made his way from the back of the alley to just above the door.
‘Is that him?’ Chris had turned. They all had, to watch the graceful creature who now stood, poised as if to jump.
All except the cops. ‘Ms Schwartz?’ The closer one stepped in, and Gus gathered himself for a jump.
‘Please, Miss.’ Dulcie shook off his arm as the grey cat leaped into the alley. ‘Don’t let him run into the street,’ she called.
Behind her, she could sense movement. Trista and Jerry, she hoped. But she didn’t have time to turn. Instead, she crouched down on the wet pavement, hoping against hope she wouldn’t startle the cat.
‘Gus? Are you okay?’
The cat had landed neatly, without even a skid, between Dulcie and the door. As he turned to face her she was struck, again, by his dark green eyes. If only she could tell what they were trying to say.
‘May I pick you up, Gus?’ It seemed only right to ask permission. He tilted his head, as if considering – or listening to something. And just then the door opened, and Heath Barstow’s oversized head peeked out, blinking in the glare of the cop’s flashlight.
‘Heath.’ Roni called out.
‘I thought you had left.’ Avila beside her sounded quizzical and, Dulcie thought, somewhat hurt. Clearly, the actor had lied to avoid her.
‘Watch it!’ The personal dramas of the acting troupe didn’t concern Dulcie, though. As Heath had stepped into the alley, he nearly trod on the cat. Gus’s shadowy coloring was easy to miss in the stormy dusk, but the actor seemed to be distracted by more than the policeman’s lights. ‘It’s Gus.’
‘I know.’ Heath’s words didn’t make sense, and he took another step into the alley, one booted foot narrowly missing a slim tail. ‘I wanted to tell Roni.’
‘You knew?’ The question on Dulcie’s lips in fact came from behind her. Roni, the office manager, stepped forward.
‘What? Oh.’ Heath looked down, as if seeing the slender creature at last. ‘There you are.’
He reached for the cat, but Gus was too fast for him. Dashing around his ankles, the Russian blue darted toward the door and disappeared inside the theater.
‘Well, that settles that.’ Chris came up to Dulcie and put his arm around her. ‘I’d say our work here is done.’
‘Now, just a moment.’ The cop was clearly not going to let Chris hustle his girlfriend out of here.
‘Yeah, really.’ Chris’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at Dulcie’s protest. But she had questions. ‘What just happened? Heath, did you see Gus inside the theater?’
The actor nodded. ‘Yeah, it was the strangest thing. I was just passing by Roni’s office, and I saw him. At least, I thought I did, underneath her desk.’
‘What were you doing in my office?’ Roni’s question seemed off point to Dulcie. Before Heath could answer, Avila stepped forward again.
‘You said you were leaving, Heath. What’s up?’ This time, the hurt in her voice was obvious.
‘Look, we found the cat.’ Chris raised his hand to get everyone’s attention. ‘That’s what we were here for. That’s what was important. What say we all get out of the snow?’
‘I’m afraid Ms Schwartz is going to have to come with us.’ The officer wasn’t going to be so easily mollified. ‘There have been complaints that she has interfered with an ongoing investigation, repeatedly intruding into the theater, and that’s a serious charge.’
‘I don’t see any tape cordoning off the theater.’ Thank goddess for Suze, Dulcie thought. Her friend had slipped into defense mode. ‘Nor do I see any here, in what is a public alley.’ Her friend waved her hand, to indicate the now crowded space. ‘If there was a specific complaint, I’d like to hear it.’
‘And who made it,’ Dulcie added. Only Heath had still been in the building. Could he have called the cops?
‘We’re not at liberty to discuss that.’ The cop was looking tired. Tired and cold.
‘Then we’re not going with you.’ Suze wasn’t as tall as the cop, but she was close. Pulling herself up to her full height, and fleshed out by her parka, she made an imposing bodyguard. Dulcie was warmed by the sight of her, but also a little worried. Suze was a lawyer now; Dulcie really didn’t want to get her in trouble with the police.
‘Maybe I can help resolve things.’ A familiar voice broke in as a familiar shape hulked into the alley. ‘Rogovoy,’ the large man introduced himself to the Cambridge cop. ‘University police. I’m hoping that as a courtesy, and since Ms Schwartz is a member of the university community, you might let me handle this one?’
‘I’ll go with Detective Rogovoy.’ Dulcie made the offer to keep the peace and looked hopefully at the Cambridge cop.
‘Sure.’ He sounded resigned. ‘It was a nuisance call anyway. Anonymous complaint.’ He nodded to his colleague and the two walked back to the cruiser.
‘Ms Schwartz?’ Rogovoy, hands on hips, was almost wide enough to block the alley. That was fine: Dulcie wasn’t planning on ducking by him.
‘Thank you.’ She paused, wondering how far she could push him. ‘I just need to clear something up.’ He didn’t say anything, and so she turned toward Heath. ‘I’d love to see where you saw Gus. He must be going in and out of the theater.’
‘I think you’ve done enough for one day,’ Rogovoy broke in before the actor could answer.
‘The cat is safe,’ Chris pointed out. ‘And it is pretty foul out.’
‘But there’s got to be a hole. A broken window or something.’ She turned toward Roni. ‘Is there a vent or something in your office? Maybe I could help you look?’
The office manager was shaking her head. ‘I don’t think so. I’m sure Heath was wrong.’
‘Come on, Ms Schwartz.’ Rogovoy waved them toward the street. ‘I can give you and your friends a ride home, but you can’t stay here.’
‘I’m kind of cold,’ Jerry said quietly.
‘And we did find Gus,’ added Trista.
‘Okay, you’re right.’ Dulcie turned one last time toward the office manager. ‘May I call you tomorrow? Just to follow up?’
Roni was nodding, as Chris pulled Dulcie away. ‘Maybe you should let them be, Dulce,’ he whispered into her ear as they walked. Now that the idling cop car had left, the sound of the snow had become audible, a soft padding as the heavy clusters built up. It didn’t entirely dampen the sounds of the city. In the distance, Dulcie could hear a siren and, back in the Square, somebody yelled. But it amplified small sounds, like Chris’s voice, so close to her ear. And as they walked away, she heard another voice, pained and angry. Avila, she thought, speaking to the blond actor who she claimed not to take that seriously.
‘What were you doing?’ A whisper, rather than a spoken voice, and when Dulcie turned, she realized the alley had emptied. The actors, behind that trompe l’oeil doorway, unaware of the sonic tricks played by the snow. ‘What are you playing at, Heath? Tell me.’
THIRTY-TWO
‘So, he’s a cad.’ Chris was making cocoa as Dulcie sat with Esmé on her lap, an empty mug on the kitchen table before her. Detective Rogovoy had given them both a lift home, but Dulcie had been shivering by the time they climbed up to the apartment and now sat, wrapped in a comforter in the kitchen, as Chris fussed with the stove. ‘He consoled himself with that whippet-looking girl, and he doesn’t have the courage to break up with her. Maybe he’s going for the office manager now.’
Dulcie looked at her boyfriend in wonder as she tucked her toes into the fluffy down. To men, things seemed so simple.
‘Roni is not his type, Chris.’ She liked the bespectacled office manager with the too-tight ponytail. If it were up to Dulcie, women like that would be considered as desirable as the pretty blonde had been – or the dark-eyed gymnast. But, well, she wasn’t. Surely, Chris could see the difference. ‘And he didn’t just move on. He charmed Avila. Lied to her. Maybe because he needed something from her. Like, I don’t know, an alibi?’
‘An alibi would be the least of it,’ Chris muttered, more to himself than to her, as he poured the hot cocoa into her mug.
‘Chris Sorenson!’ Dulcie couldn’t get too angry. She knew her boyfriend wasn’t the type to lose it over an actress. Besides, he was making her cocoa. ‘You’re not listening to me.’
‘Oh?’ His voice came back, muffled, from inside the cabinet. ‘Did we use all the marshmallows?’
‘Hang on.’ Dulcie unwrapped herself enough to walk to the adjoining cabinet, where she found the opened – and nearly empty – bag. ‘I’m not sure how fresh these are. And I bet you want something, too.’ This was addressed to Esmé, who had begun twining around her ankles.
‘She already had a can.’ Chris took the bag from her and squeezed the remaining contents. Seemingly satisfied by what he felt, he then pulled three conjoined white puffs out and dropped them in his mug. When he saw the expression on Dulcie’s face, he shrugged. ‘Hey, it’s a celebration.’
‘How so?’ Dulcie shook some kibble out on a plate, placing it on the ground before resuming her seat.
‘Are you kidding?’ Chris offered her the open bag. ‘You found Gus.’
‘Yeah, but, I don’t know.’ Dulcie reached for the marshmallows. They were definitely stale. She dropped one in her cocoa anyway.
‘Dulcie?’ If she had been more alert, Dulcie would have noticed the warning tone in her boyfriend’s voice. As it was, she ignored the implicit question. Esmé’s claws, reaching up her leg, were less easy to dismiss.
‘Stop it, kitty.’ She detached the claws to an annoyed mew. ‘Why? What is it?’
‘Naow!’ Esmé pulled back even as Dulcie held her forepaws. ‘You don’t listen!’ The voice, as clear as the cat’s mew, came to her ears.
‘I guess someone didn’t like being left alone.’ She smiled up at Chris. ‘Ow! Esmé!’ The cat had nipped her.
‘Or she means what she says.’ Chris nodded over the table. ‘You aren’t hearing yourself, Dulcie. And you sure aren’t listening to what others are telling you. For starters, wasn’t the plan to find the cat? You’ve done that.’
‘Yes, but don’t you think it’s odd—’
‘Dulcie!’ Chris didn’t yell. He did raise his voice enough so that both his girlfriend and their cat stopped to stare at him. ‘You wanted to help find a lost cat. You did. Well, he showed up – and went inside. You’ve told that woman, Roni, about the spam problem. And that’s enough. They’ve lost one of their members and the police are involved. Now you’ve got to leave them alone.’ He paused, seemingly as startled by his unaccustomed outburst as they were. ‘Okay?’
‘But …’ Dulcie paused, unsure how to continue.
‘But what?’ Chris, to his credit, looked resigned.
‘What if all those things are connected?’ Chris just shook his head, so Dulcie continued as she pulled the comforter back around her. ‘Well, on one level, obviously Gus got out the night Amy was … The night Amy died.’ Dulcie stopped to take a sip of her cocoa and to think through what she was going to say next. ‘But what if Gus saw something? What if he had something to tell us about who killed her?’
She paused to pull Esmé on to her lap. ‘Even Esmé has been telling me I don’t listen.’
‘Dulcie, this wasn’t a game. This was murder. Let the cops handle it.’
‘But maybe the cops don’t know everything. Do you think they even know that Heath was seeing Amy?’
‘I’m sure they do, sweetie. That’s their job.’
‘Do they know about Bob – or about Avila?’
‘Wait a minute, Dulce.’ He was smiling, as if he had her now. ‘You were just saying that he wasn’t serious about her – so now she’s a suspect?’
‘No.’ Dulcie shook her head. Those pinking shears had been sharp. ‘At least, I don’t think so. But I don’t like that he lied to her.’
‘She didn’t like it either, Dulcie. Now do you want the last of these marshmallows?�
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There wasn’t much more to say after that, and the three sat in companionable silence. The storm outside had gotten bad, but somehow the wind only made their cocoa that much sweeter. Out the window, Dulcie could see one poor, bare tree, its branches whipping back and forth in the wind. The snow on the ledge had already formed a frame to the scene, and between the cocoa and their breath, the inside began to fog up as well.
‘It’s almost as if …’ The sound of her own voice startled her. She hadn’t been aware that she was speaking out loud.
‘As if what, Dulcie?’ Chris, also staring at the window, seemed equally mesmerized by the storm.
‘Nothing.’ One hand automatically went to the cat on her lap, stroking the smooth black fur as she purred. It was almost as if Gus had appeared in time to send her home, knowing that he, too, was safe. Was that what Esmé had meant? Or was it something else: ‘What are you playing at?’ She repeated the question softly.
‘I’m not playing at anything, Dulcie.’ Chris had obviously heard her.
‘No.’ She turned from the window to smile at him. ‘Not you. I heard Avila – at least I think it was Avila – saying that to Heath.’
He just shook his head.
‘You’re making drama where there isn’t any, Dulce.’
Before she could comment, she heard a ping. ‘Hang on.’ Carefully, so as not to disturb the cat, she reached for her phone. ‘Maybe Suze is taking a break.’
Her friend had left as soon as Rogovoy had cleared Dulcie, explaining that only the apparent emergency of a lost cat had dragged her away from work. She had promised to schedule a good catch-up coffee break as soon as the latest crisis ebbed. Dulcie hadn’t expected it to be so soon.
‘What? Bother.’ It wasn’t Suze, and Dulcie slammed the phone down on the table. ‘It’s another email blast.’
‘From the URT?’ Chris reached for her phone. ‘I guess she didn’t have a chance to cancel these yet. Or maybe they don’t consider them spam. Want me to opt out of it for you?’
‘Oh, I can do that.’ Dulcie scrolled down, but her mind was still on the scene by the theater. ‘Did you hear how Roni talked to Heath about going into her office?’ She went over the scene in her head. ‘Do you think he broke in? He wouldn’t rob the company, would he? He’s its star.’
