Stages of Grey

by Clea Simon

  ‘Is she in?’ Dulcie didn’t want to appear too eager.

  ‘Yeah, I believe so.’ Doug looked down at his snow shovel – and at the snow still covering half the sidewalk.

  ‘We know where her office is.’ Trista grabbed Dulcie’s arm and pulled her toward the front door. ‘Catch you on the way out,’ she called over her shoulder as they slipped inside.

  ‘Trista! What were you thinking?’ Once they were inside the empty lobby, Dulcie turned on her friend.

  ‘Perfect excuse, don’t you think?’ Trista looked around. ‘Nobody can complain about two people coming to volunteer, can they? And on top of that, you get to talk to Roni without anyone wondering why. Plus, if we actually usher, we can ask questions about Heath. Find out what he’s up to. And we get to see the show again.’

  ‘I can’t take another night off work.’ Dulcie rubbed her forehead, having forgotten that her mittens were full of snow. ‘I just can’t.’

  ‘Oh, come on.’ Trista leaned over to knock a stray bit of ice off Dulcie’s hair. ‘It’s a Friday. What’s a few hours going to matter? And besides, this is work. It’s a classic, only under a different name.’

  ‘It’s not just the name.’ Dulcie pulled her cap off. The inside was dry and she used that to wipe her face. ‘It’s not the same thing at all.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Dulcie looked up as Trista turned around. Behind her, at the back of the lobby, stood Heath Barstow, a blank look on his face.

  ‘She didn’t mean anything,’ Trista jumped in.

  ‘Yes, she did.’ Heath took a step closer, his face turning grim. ‘What did you mean by that?’

  ‘Hey, I’m an English major, not Classics.’ Dulcie couldn’t help but remember how strong the actor’s grip had been. She and Trista outnumbered him, and they were right by the front door. But the look in his eye was so intense. ‘In fact, I want to see the play again, see if it really does hew to the original.’

  ‘The play, right.’ Heath paused. ‘So, you came by to ask for more tickets or something?’

  Dulcie couldn’t help herself. She shot a glance at Trista, but her friend was staring at the blond actor.

  ‘We’re hoping to usher tonight,’ Dulcie filled in after a moment’s awkward silence. So much for not committing, she told herself. ‘Doug said we should check in with Roni? He’s right outside, you know.’ She couldn’t resist adding that last bit.

  It didn’t seem to have an effect. Whatever mood had been on Heath, it had passed. ‘Yeah,’ he said, nodding. ‘I was heading over to talk to her myself when I heard you two come in.’

  ‘We can come back.’ Dulcie knew she wasn’t making sense. Still, she didn’t want to talk to Roni with Heath there.

  ‘Nonsense.’ Trista took her arm. ‘We’re here, right?’

  Too late, Dulcie realized that she hadn’t shared the full extent of her concerns with Trista. ‘No.’ She mouthed the word as Heath turned to lead them to the tiny office.

  ‘What?’ Trista mouthed back. ‘Maybe she knows something,’ she whispered as the two fell in line.

  ‘Hey, Heath.’ Avila was coming out of the darkened theater area. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

  ‘Avila!’ Dulcie turned to greet the dark-eyed actress, but Trista grabbed her.

  ‘You wanted to get Roni alone?’ Her stage whisper must have been audible, but Avila had taken Heath’s arm by then, spinning the actor around to face her.

  Dulcie paused, out of concern for Avila, but agreed with a nod. ‘Come on.’ She led the rest of the way to the tiny office.

  ‘Knock, knock?’ The door to Roni’s office was closed, but not latched.

  ‘Tris—’ Dulcie grabbed for her friend, but Trista had already pushed the door open.

  ‘Hope we’re not interrupting.’ Trista stepped into the office, and so Dulcie followed.

  ‘No, no.’ The smile that turned up to meet them couldn’t have been more fake, and Dulcie cringed inwardly. ‘Just let me save.’ Roni’s fingers pattered over the keys. ‘There.’

  ‘Roni, I’m so glad we caught you.’ Dulcie pushed past Trista. Since they were there, she might as well relay her message – both her messages. ‘I think I found something.’

  She looked over her shoulder. The door was still open. ‘Trista?’ With a nod, Trista turned toward it.

  ‘Look, I don’t want to alarm you or anything.’ Keeping her voice low, she leaned over Roni’s desk. What she was going to say next was risky. ‘And I know – well, I think I know how you feel about Heath, but—’

  ‘There you are.’ Trista had almost latched the door when it burst open. Heath, a broad grin on his face, came striding in. ‘Roni. Sorry, meant to bring these two by to see you, but I got detained.’

  ‘Heath?’ Behind him, Dulcie could hear Avila. She sounded confused. ‘What’s going on?’

  He ignored her, focusing that big smile on the office manager, who seemed to shrink back from all the attention. ‘They want to be ushers, Roni.’ His voice, overloud, sounded as false as his smile. ‘They want to see the show again.’

  ‘Ushers.’ Roni sounded as stunned as she looked. ‘Of course.’

  ‘I was hoping to get a chance to chat, too.’ Dulcie glanced over at the actor. She didn’t know what he knew about the company’s precarious financial situation, but if it gave her an opportunity to speak privately with the office manager, so much the better. ‘Something new came up with, you know, the thing that we’d started talking about?’

  ‘The thing?’ Roni was pale, to the point that Dulcie began to worry that the other woman might faint.

  ‘It’s not that bad,’ she added quickly. ‘Probably nothing. My boyfriend’s working on it. He’s a computer guy. I don’t know if you remember his name.’

  A heavy hand fell on her shoulder. ‘I don’t think we should take up any more of our Roni’s time.’ Heath. She could feel his breath, hot on her cold ear. ‘Roni can put you down for ushering tonight, and we can let her get back to work, okay?’

  As if in response, Roni started scrambling among the papers on her desk. ‘Two for tonight. Dulcie Schwartz and – ah?’

  ‘Trista Dunlop.’

  ‘Great.’ The hand slid to the middle of her back, turning Dulcie as neatly as if they had been dancing. ‘We’ll see you at seven twenty tonight, then.’

  ‘Roni?’ Dulcie tried to turn. She had to give it one more shot. But all she saw was Roni shaking her head, as Heath propelled her out the door.

  ‘Wow, that was odd.’ Trista, who had been herded ahead of Dulcie, pulled her aside as soon as they were out of the theater. ‘Since when does Heath Barstow greet visitors? He said he heard us and that’s why he came over, but I don’t know.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s that either, Tris.’ It was time, Dulcie decided, to tell her friend all that she suspected. ‘Did you notice how he hung around while we spoke with Roni? The way he kept interrupting, and the way he wanted us out of there? He’s stalking her, Tris. Roni might be his next victim.’

  THIRTY-NINE

  ‘On top of everything, we forgot to ask about Gus.’ Dulcie paused, tempted to turn back.

  ‘You mean the cat?’ Trista looked confused. ‘But he’s okay. Isn’t he?’

  ‘He was last night. Well, he went inside before the storm got too bad,’ Dulcie explained. ‘But I don’t like that he can go in and out like that. This is a big city, and it’s not safe. Someone should take responsibility for him.’

  ‘It sounds like everyone at the URT has their hands full,’ her friend responded. They had reached the edge of the area in front of the theater that Doug had cleared, but the muscular actor was nowhere in sight. ‘You want me to go ahead again?’

  ‘Yeah, thanks.’ As her friend stepped up and over a small wall of snow, Dulcie turned around. ‘Maybe I could ask Doug if he could … Wait!’

  Trista turned toward her. ‘What?’

  Dulcie pointed to the corner of the building, where a narrow path had been
partially cleared between the theater and the fence that marked the edge of the property. ‘I saw something move back there – something grey.’

  ‘Oh, please. It’s probably a rat.’

  But Dulcie was already there, wading into the knee-deep snow by the path’s edge. ‘Gus! Gus?’

  ‘Dulcie.’ Trista’s tone was not amused. ‘People are going to think you’re losing it.’

  ‘Hang on.’ A movement, a bit further back, had caught her eye. ‘Gus?’ Yes, the apple-shaped grey head popped up, those green eyes blinking. ‘Gus, come here.’ Dulcie clambered through the snow, but the cat, lighter and swifter, leaped from his perch and was gone.

  ‘Oh, hell.’ Behind her, Dulcie heard Trista curse as she started to follow her friend.

  ‘Wait, Tris.’ She held up a hand behind her. ‘I don’t want to scare him.’

  The path wasn’t, as Dulcie had originally thought, shoveled. Instead it looked as if someone – probably Doug – had forced a way through the snow. Probably to a back entrance, Dulcie thought. Perhaps to a storage or service area, where the snow shovel had been stored. Could that have been Gus’s means of egress from the building?

  ‘Dulcie …’ Trista’s voice might as well have been a growl, but Dulcie ignored her, pushing on. Sure enough, the path ended at a door, set into the brick building’s wall. And sitting by the door, tail neatly wrapped around his front paws, was Gus, the Russian blue.

  ‘Come here, boy.’ Dulcie scooped the cat up. ‘You must be freezing.’ She turned back toward Trista. ‘You see? I didn’t imagine him.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Trista nodded. ‘But he must have his own way in and out.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Arms full of cat, Dulcie nodded toward the closed door. ‘Maybe he snuck out when Doug came out to shovel. I’m going to bring him in.’

  Trista opened her mouth, but it was several moments before she started to speak. ‘Dulcie,’ she said finally. ‘I don’t think they really want us in there. We’re going back later, but …’

  ‘No “buts” about it.’ Dulcie started walking and motioned for Trista to turn around and lead the way back to the street. ‘I am not leaving this little guy out in the cold.’

  In her arms, Gus began to purr.

  Back in front of the theater, Trista held the door open for Dulcie and the cat. But Dulcie felt a strange reluctance to enter. Or maybe, she decided, it was that she didn’t want to relinquish the cat.

  ‘Do you want to go back in there?’ She murmured into the grey fur. Although Gus’s coat was shorter than Esmé’s, it had a silky quality that made it feel almost as lush, and Dulcie buried her face in its warmth. ‘You don’t want to, do you?’

  ‘Dulce.’ Trista was standing by the door. ‘Why don’t you drop the cat, and we can get going. Don’t you have a section?’

  Maybe it was Trista’s voice; there was an edge to her tone that couldn’t be explained away as simply due to the cold. Maybe it was that Dulcie had turned, twisting at the waist as she held the cat close. Gus used that moment to squirm, pushing his powerful hind legs against Dulcie and jumping free of her arms.

  ‘Well, that’s that.’ Trista reached for her arm. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Wait.’ Dulcie watched as the grey cat trotted into the lobby and then turned, his green eyes luminous in the dim light. ‘I think he wants to show me something.’

  Ignoring Trista’s pained sigh, she stepped carefully after the cat. But if she expected the Russian blue to duck into Roni’s office, she was surprised. Even though the office manager’s door was slightly ajar, the cat kept trotting, stopping every few feet to glance back at Dulcie.

  ‘He thinks you’re chasing him.’ Trista’s stage whisper revealed her presence. ‘He’s playing.’

  ‘Maybe.’ They’d come to the prop room, where the narrow stairs ran up above the bar. The door was slightly ajar, and the slim cat slipped easily inside, but Dulcie stopped, unsure of whether to follow.

  ‘See?’ Trista came up behind her. ‘He’s just going to his usual haunt.’

  ‘No, he isn’t.’ A woman’s voice – someone inside the room – seemed to respond to Trista’s statement, and Dulcie and Trista both froze. As the voice continued, it became clear they had stumbled on to a private conversation. ‘I know he isn’t … isn’t who he says he is,’ the woman was saying. ‘But why would he want to hurt her? Wait, what’s that?’

  Dulcie heard the swift intake of Trista’s breath, close behind her, and realized she was holding her own.

  ‘It’s just Gus.’ A man speaking this time. A man with a familiar voice.

  ‘What is with this cat? I swear he’s schizophrenic.’

  ‘He likes you.’ The man again, half whispering. ‘He likes people. He’s a cat.’

  ‘Then why did he attack Amy that time?’ The woman. It must be Avila, Dulcie thought. ‘Why did he hiss at me?’

  ‘Like I said, he’s a cat.’

  Dulcie relaxed and turned back to Trista. It was time to go. But as she started to step away, the man started speaking again, even more quietly than before but with an urgency that made her listen.

  ‘Threat.’ She was sure she heard that word – or maybe ‘threatened’.

  ‘I’m only telling you what I saw.’ The voice was growing louder, more frustrated. Could it be Heath? ‘I’d seen him with Amy, and now this. And all those questions? I don’t like it.’

  ‘You’re just jealous.’ Avila, it had to be. Which meant they were talking about Heath. ‘You always have been.’

  ‘No, I’m scared.’ The voice was familiar. Could it be Doug? Or Bob? Dulcie couldn’t clearly remember what the rotund director’s voice sounded like. ‘I’m telling you,’ he was saying. ‘She knows something, and I don’t think it’s good.’

  A hand came down on Dulcie’s shoulder and she turned in horror. It was Trista, her face reflecting the fear that Dulcie felt.

  ‘Do you hear that, Dulce?’ Trista’s voice was barely above a breath now, but Dulcie heard it and nodded in return. ‘“She knows something”,’ Trista repeated. ‘I think they’re talking about you.’

  FORTY

  ‘They could have been talking about Roni, too.’ Dulcie refused to be frightened, especially now that she and Trista were back outside. ‘The way Heath was looming over her.’

  ‘That wasn’t Heath.’ Trista looked thoughtful. ‘I know his voice. I think that was the big guy, Doug.’

  ‘Oh.’ Dulcie felt her heart sink. She’d liked the carpenter-actor.

  ‘Well, we should go.’ Trista turned to lead the way back to the Square.

  ‘The cops?’ Dulcie was willing to take any suggestion at this point.

  ‘No, silly.’ The face that turned back to her had an unexpected smile. ‘Section!’

  It was hard for Dulcie to keep up on the snowy walk. But with more shopkeepers and landlords digging out, it wasn’t long before they were walking side by side. Finally, Dulcie broke the silence.

  ‘We have to do something, Trista,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure what. But we have to do something.’

  ‘Look, I know you’re concerned.’ Her friend had stopped now and turned to face her. ‘And, yeah, it did sound bad. But what are you going to do?’

  Dulcie was biting her lip, thinking, when it suddenly hit her. ‘Give me your phone.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Tris, I’ll give it right back.’

  Her friend handed it over, and Dulcie did a quick search. Sure enough, the theater’s website had a director. She found Roni’s name listed under ‘Subscriptions and Group Sales’. But before she hit the ‘call’ button, she stopped. What if Heath was still hanging around Roni’s office? What if Avila and Doug were within earshot? What if someone else picked up her phone?

  A message, however …

  Roni, she began to type. We need to talk. Dulcie paused. Should she mention going to the police? No, she decided. Roni might simply assume she was overreacting. She should meet with her. Then she could make her
case. But how to get her there? Well, there was one subject Dulcie was pretty sure that Roni wouldn’t be able to resist. About Heath, she typed. Lala’s in the Square @1? There would be no way for the office manager to get back to her, but if she didn’t show, at least Dulcie could have a good lunch. She sent the text and handed Trista her phone back.

  ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’ Trista shoved it in her pocket and turned to start walking again.

  ‘All I know is I have to try,’ Dulcie said, to the back of her friend’s head. ‘I’ve got to do something.’

  FORTY-ONE

  ‘I’m sorry. I can’t do anything.’ Twenty minutes later, Dulcie was getting frustrated. ‘The schedule for the midterm was established by the senior teaching assistant. I have to enforce it.’

  The sound that followed – part exhalation, part whine – marked her students’ dissatisfaction. It also stoked Dulcie’s own resistance.

  ‘Come on, guys.’ She looked around at the seven students sagging around the table. ‘It’s not like you don’t have more than a month to go. We can do this.’

  ‘But I got a part in my house play.’ Keira was definitely leaning toward the whine.

  ‘Congratulations.’ Dulcie made herself smile at the girl. ‘That doesn’t mean you can give up your class work.’ She paused, reaching for inspiration. ‘There’s no reason why the two shouldn’t help each other. After all, here we are, looking at themes in literature. And – what’s the play?’

  ‘It’s the one where the guy wears an ass’s head.’ Keira was still sulking, but she seemed torn between the urge to pout and to brag. ‘You know, the famous one?’

  ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream?’ Dulcie offered. Keira confirmed it with a nod. ‘Well, that’s great. We’re not studying Shakespeare in this course, but a lot of the themes are the same. Like, the transformative power of love, for example.’

  ‘Like the one URT is doing?’ Bronwyn, down at the table’s end, had woken up.

  ‘Kind of.’ Dulcie didn’t want to lose them. ‘Though what they’re doing is based on Ovid. And, well, they are using a rather loose interpretation of the core work.’