Shades of Grey

by Clea Simon

  ‘I feel old, Suze. Old at twenty-six.’ How that slipped out, she wasn’t sure. The last few days must have gotten to her.

  ‘You just need to get back to work on your thesis.’ At times, Suze really was the voice of reason. ‘You’ve got, what, another six months before all your grants come up again?’

  ‘Five months, Suze. I’ve been counting. I spent a couple of hours in Widener yesterday and it was a homecoming. I feel like I almost have it.’ A soft murmur on the other end of the line meant Suze was listening. ‘I think there’s a populist angle that I could focus on. Feminist, even, considering that The Ravages of Umbria is really about two women against the world.’

  ‘Are you asking me or telling me, Dulcie? And, well, isn’t that whole proto-feminist take sort of common knowledge?’

  ‘Yeah, but . . .’ Dulcie was surprised. Suze had been listening more than she’d thought. ‘But I’ve got to get working on something. I’ve got to refile for grants in September or I’m out.’ Panic started to tighten her throat, and she heard her voice rise. ‘I’m out, Suze. I’m out!’

  ‘I know, Dulce. And I’m on your side. But you’re a real scholar. I know it. And, yeah, I know I was never into those ghost stories. There’s a reason I’m studying law, and not just because my mom wants me to make partner in some big firm before I’m thirty. It’s just more concrete. For you, though, it’s different. Has been for as long as I’ve known you. It’s always been about the writing, the language – the style. You’ve never looked for a message in these books before. Don’t start now.’

  Dulcie thought back to Freshman Week, when she’d dragged her Army Surplus duffle into the dorm room to find the upper bunk had already been claimed by a super-serious student with long dark braids and thick glasses. Both the braids and the glasses were history, and Suze had learned to lighten up. What hadn’t changed was her laser-like focus. If she thought Dulcie was on the wrong track, maybe she was right.

  ‘I just felt like I’d hit on something – something I could write about. I mean, just loving the books isn’t enough. I want to be serious, not just a fan.’

  ‘You are, kiddo. I mean, you know more about obscure authors and who influenced whom than anyone else I know. Would it help to just read through your notes, maybe some of your old papers?’

  She had a point, but Dulcie winced. ‘It would – if I weren’t worried that my computer was tainted.’ The time had come to confess. ‘Suze, you haven’t checked your email in a while, have you?’

  ‘No, why?’ She could hear her friend getting up. She’d probably be walking over to her desk next. It was now or never.

  ‘I know you said not to send you the infected file. But I was worried about losing my work, my real work. So, ah, I sent a backup of all my major papers and stuff as an attachment. Don’t open it till I get my machine checked out.’

  ‘Hang on.’ Dulcie could hear the soft click of typing. ‘Well, it’s in my Inbox. Any damage it was going to do, it’s done.’ She sighed.

  ‘You’re not mad?’

  ‘No, though I do wish you’d warned me. I met a computer geek down here, and he’s given me some good anti-virus programs. I’m not too worried.’

  ‘Thanks, Suze. I’ve been meaning to call Chris. He likes you, you know.’ A non-committal grunt could have meant that Suze was powering down her computer. ‘One of us should have a social life.’

  ‘Look who’s talking. Hey, whatever happened with the cute guy you met at the pity party? The big bruiser – Bruce?’

  With a bigger sigh than the moment called for, Dulcie flopped back down on the sofa and gave her old friend the whole story. While they were talking, she heard the beep of a call waiting, but she didn’t much care.

  ‘That son of a bitch!’ Suze was suitably appalled.

  ‘Well, maybe he didn’t realize I’d thought he was flirting.’ The thought did salve her ego some.

  ‘Bullshit. I hate him. Him and all his preppie friends.’ This from the woman who had urged her to go to Alana’s party? Dulcie took the sympathy with a grain of salt.

  ‘I’ve got to admit, Suze, I don’t mind losing Bruce that much. Luke was very comforting yesterday.’ Somewhere in her narrative she’d told her friend about her visit to the legal clinic. ‘He wasn’t stuffy at all.’ But, she reminded herself silently, he seemed awfully impressed by Stacia. ‘Not that I care.’

  The ‘call waiting’ beep sounded again.

  ‘Another preppie. Hey, maybe you should give Chris a call.’ Suze sounded a little too happy at the idea. ‘Have him look at your hard drive, while you’re at it.’

  ‘But he’s— Never mind.’ Poor guy, thought Dulcie. Why are the nice ones so unsexy? As if to goose her off the phone, ‘call waiting’ beeped again. Suze must have heard the click on the line. ‘Someone’s hot to trot with you. Anyway, I should go.’

  ‘Big date?’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ She laughed, and Dulcie could picture her piling books into her backpack. ‘But, hey, while there’s life, there’s hope.’ With a friendly smooch, she hung up.

  Dulcie dialed her voicemail. Maybe it was Luke. He did have to finish cleaning out his brother’s room, and besides, she owed him an explanation of how things had turned out with Priority. And hadn’t he said he was going to look into how computer viruses worked for her? More likely, she sighed, it was Chris. Reliable Chris, who would be just perfect for Suze.

  But the voice on the other end of the line was neither male nor totally lucid. Instead, the three messages all came from Luisa – a panicked, breathless Luisa.

  ‘Dulcie, are you there? Oh, God, I hope you’re there. I really do. I hope you get this.’ In the last one, Luisa sounded tearful. ‘I really need to talk to you. You’ve been so kind and everything. Oh, Dulcie, I hope you’re there. Something’s happened, Dulcie. I’m scared!’

  Eighteen

  A tiny, nasty part of Dulcie wanted to ignore the call and simply curl up with a book until she could go to sleep. It had been a long day, and she’d been on the phone with Suze for over an hour before she heard the other girl’s panicked plea. It was late. Besides, Luisa wouldn’t know that Dulcie had even gotten her messages. Wasn’t Suze always telling her not to be so helpful?

  Dulcie got up to brush her teeth. She’d gotten as far as squeezing out toothpaste when her inner voice stopped her. Suze kept on at her to be less trusting, not less helpful. And Dulcie had gotten Luisa’s messages. Resting the toothbrush on the edge of the sink, she went back to the living room. At least Mr Grey wasn’t around to knock her toothbrush on to the floor.

  ‘Luisa? It’s Dulcie. I just picked up my voicemail.’ Dulcie bit her lip after saying that, but in truth she’d only delayed a few minutes. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Oh, thank you! Dulcie, it’s been horrible. I’ve been getting calls.’ Luisa sounded breathless. Dulcie could picture her red eyes; she’d been crying again. ‘The police. And these weird hang-ups. And, well, I think from something he said that maybe Bruce figured out about me and Tim. Not that there was really anything going on—’

  ‘Hold on.’ Dulcie didn’t know if it was her own fatigue, but something wasn’t making sense. ‘The cops have been hanging up on you?’

  ‘No, no, they’re not the ones hanging up. At least, I don’t think so. But they had me come in again and asked me all sorts of questions. Really rude questions about me and Tim – and about me and Bruce, too. When I got out, I was so flustered, I don’t know what I said – to them or to Bruce.’

  So maybe Bruce was only now finding out that he had a romantic rival. Unless he knew all along, and was good at hiding it. At least the cops were finally considering the jealousy angle. Dulcie thought back to her own interrogation. I wonder what other women they’ve called in? The breathless young beauty was still talking.

  ‘That’s the scary part. I mean, if the police were keeping tabs on me, they’d leave messages, right?’

  ‘Sorry.’ Dulcie refocused. ‘What did you say?’


  ‘The blank messages.’ Luisa sniffed, but Dulcie thought she was also making a point. ‘The hang-ups! Someone has been calling me and staying on the line long enough for my voicemail to pick up – and then hanging up.’

  ‘And it’s not Bruce, right? Do you have caller ID? You said maybe you said some things to him. Did you have a fight?’

  ‘Not a fight, really. He’s just acting odd.’ Luisa’s voice started winding up. ‘And, no, I can’t afford anything but basic phone service. And I’m scared!’ Dulcie closed her eyes, bracing for another round of tears.

  ‘Maybe you have a secret admirer?’ Dulcie meant it as a compliment, anything to lighten the mood. But even as she said it, she realized the calls sounded more like a stalker than a suitor. She thought back to the funeral. Luisa might be young, but she was a bombshell, and several of the men there had noticed the ample curves inside the cheap suit. Tim’s friends wouldn’t care that Luisa didn’t wear couture. In their minds, they’d already stripped her bare. ‘Um, do Bruce’s friends know that you two are a couple? Maybe one of them likes you?’ That was putting it gently.

  ‘No, Bruce wants to be “discreet”, he always says.’ Her voice perked up as she spoke of her beau. How innocent was this girl? ‘Bruce says he wanted you to know that he trusts you. But that some of his crowd can be really catty and mean, and because I’m not from the same schools as they are and I don’t have the money they have, he wants to protect me from all of that.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ Bruce had seemed truly smitten with Luisa at that horrible awkward dinner. But still, he had been a friend of Tim’s. It would be easy to act loving toward a little hottie like Luisa and still keep his options open while he browsed for a more socially acceptable mate. ‘And how do you feel about being kept a secret?’

  Luisa sighed. ‘Oh, it was fine at first. I mean, I was tutoring Tim and he referred me to Bruce. I didn’t know if it would be professional to date one of my students.’ Especially if you had your eye on your other student, Dulcie thought. ‘But now it just seems silly. I need to finish school, but I want to get married some day and I don’t want to be too old to have kids. I mean, you want to have children while you’re still young enough to enjoy them, don’t you?’

  Dulcie rolled her eyes and grunted something she hoped sounded non-committal. Her best theory was falling apart. On the one hand, perhaps Bruce was jealous, and he’d been a fool for keeping his relationship with Luisa hidden. In which case, maybe now he did suspect something of Luisa’s relationship with Tim – but he couldn’t have known before, and there went his motive for murder. On the other hand, perhaps he didn’t care at all, and no jealousy meant no motive. And if Luisa was that worried about losing Bruce, why had she been stepping out with Tim? Maybe neither of them cared, and this was simply the best either could do right now.

  No matter which way you sliced it, Luisa hardly sounded panicked enough to justify her calls. And it was too late at night for relationship – or reality – counseling. ‘And how can I help with all of this?’ She heard the sarcasm creeping into her own voice. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s late and I’ve got work tomorrow. You sounded really scared when you called, so that’s why I called you back right away.’ The line was silent. ‘Is it the calls and hang-ups? Because if you are really worried about them, you can tell the phone company—’

  A loud sniff interrupted her. ‘If Bruce leaves me, I don’t know what I’ll do!’

  ‘Luisa, hang on a minute.’ Dulcie needed a reality check, even if Luisa didn’t. ‘Let’s back up here. What was really going on with you and Tim? I mean, if you just went out for a few meals, then Bruce doesn’t have any reason to be jealous, does he?’ She thought of the mascara. A few meals, indeed.

  ‘Well, maybe it was more than that. I mean, maybe it was just in my head.’ Dulcie waited. Luisa wasn’t going to spill on her own.

  ‘You were sleeping with Tim, weren’t you? When you were over here, supposedly tutoring him in statistics, there was more going on, wasn’t there?’ Silence. ‘Luisa, I found your mascara in the bathroom.’

  ‘My what?’ As a stalling technique, ignorance was annoying.

  ‘Your mascara. You know, the stuff you put on your lashes to make them darker.’

  ‘I don’t wear mascara, Dulcie. I use a little shadow and some concealer sometimes. But my lashes are really dark on their own. I mean, they’re almost as thick as my eyebrows, and if I don’t pluck them, watch out.’

  ‘Well, never mind the mascara.’ Dulcie thought for a moment; the image of someone pulling out eyelashes was pretty disconcerting. ‘But you were more involved with Tim than you’ve said, right?’

  More silence. Even the sniffling had stopped. ‘Luisa, you want my help, don’t you?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ The soft syllables were followed by a hiccup and a small whine. The girl could cry at will. ‘But it wasn’t like that.’

  This was like pulling teeth, Dulcie thought. In The Ravages, both women were always launching into long speeches to explain themselves. When did young women grow so silent? Was Luisa so deluded she imagined herself in love? ‘Luisa, I don’t know how to break it to you, but Tim wasn’t always the most considerate person. Is it possible that he hinted something to Bruce? Maybe something he said accidentally that only now is sinking in?’ How could she tell this girl that Tim bragged about conquests real and imagined?

  ‘No, I don’t think so. I mean, last week everything was fine with Bruce.’ The sniffling was starting up in earnest. ‘And now, I don’t know what to do. The police are being really rude. And these phone calls are creeping me out. And if Bruce— If Bruce—’ Loud sobs cut her off.

  ‘Breathe, Luisa.’ Dulcie heard a discreet snort over the line. Luisa could even blow her nose in a cute way. ‘Look, I can help you with some of this. Do you know about the legal clinic over at Harvard Law?’ She gave the younger woman directions. ‘Now, officially, they’re not supposed to get involved in criminal cases, but ask for Luke. He’s Tim’s brother, and he’s a really nice guy. Maybe he can help you.’ As she said the words, Dulcie felt a pang. Here she was, sending a raven-haired looker off to see Luke. What the hell, he was already in thrall to Stacia anyway. He’d probably consider Luisa fat. ‘Tell him that I recommended you speak to him. You can tell him everything.’ Luke already knew about his kid brother’s habits.

  ‘Tim’s brother?’ Amazing what registered.

  ‘Yes, but he’s a law student.’ And I think he’s already taken. Dulcie bit back the words. ‘You should also tell him about the strange phone calls. He can probably put you on the right path to having those traced.’

  ‘Well, maybe for the legal advice.’ Why was she hesitating? Whatever it was, it soon passed. ‘Thanks, Dulcie. I knew you’d be able to help me. You’re so smart!’

  Dulcie smiled. The faithful attendant. ‘We have all got to have something going for us, right? And maybe the phone calls don’t mean anything.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Luisa sounded calmer. ‘I just hope they’re not from Bruce.’

  ‘Me, too,’ said Dulcie, signing off. At this point, she’d rather think of him as a callow cad than a heartbroken nice guy, stuck with this ditz; or, for that matter, as a killer.

  Could Bruce have been faking it? Dulcie climbed back up the stairs, trying to remember every word and gesture from that awful dinner. Had he really been smitten with Luisa, or had it all been an act? Maybe he’d arranged for the three of them to meet so he could show off his ‘devotion’, when he had really known about Tim all along – and stabbed his rival to death in Dulcie’s apartment. Dulcie shuddered and clutched her frayed bathrobe closer. Fighting an urge to run down and double check the doors, she made her way to the bathroom.

  ‘I locked the door. I always lock the door,’ she said to her own reflection above the sink. Then she looked down. Her toothbrush was on the floor.

  ‘What are you trying to say to me, Mr Grey?’ Dulcie stared at the upended toothbrush for a moment before picking it
up. ‘Are you trying to warn me about Luisa? I really think she’s more innocent than dangerous. But I’ll be careful.’ She washed off the brush. The smear of toothpaste on the bath mat was going to be a little harder to get out. ‘Or was this just some paranormal prank, letting me know you’re still my cat?’ She held the sticky part of the mat under the faucet and left it hanging over the edge of the tub to dry.

  ‘Is it something else?’ Pulling her robe belt tight for courage, Dulcie went back downstairs, turning on every light as she checked the door and windows. ‘Not that anyone would want to climb up the fire escape,’ she muttered. This was getting silly. Maybe the brush hadn’t even been a sign of her dear departed cat. Maybe it had simply fallen, dislodged by her heavy tread on the stairs or . . . well, by something. Dulcie couldn’t think of a good reason for a toothbrush to go flying. But if she really put her mind to it, she couldn’t think of a good reason for the ghost of her pet to come to her either. When was the last time she had ‘seen’ Mr Grey anyway? Had those earlier apparitions been the result of shock, some kind of temporary derangement caused by finding her room-mate dead and bloody on the living room floor?

  As disgusting as the memory was, she chuckled. Of course, that was it. She’d taken enough psych courses – and she’d read enough ghost stories to provide the basics. Her overstimulated mind had done the rest. Speaking of rest . . . turning out the living room light one more time, she headed toward the stairs, just in time to hear the phone ring.

  ‘At this hour?’ She turned toward the phone. ‘If it’s Luisa again, I’m going to give her a piece of my mind.’ Dulcie lifted the receiver.

  ‘Hello? Hello?’ She heard breathing and waited for a voice. Then a click – and nothing more.

  Nineteen