by Clea Simon
Her words seemed to calm the bedridden man. Her words and the presence of his purring cat. She and Griddlehaus watched as Jeremy relaxed, years of fear finally beginning to fade. They waited until Jeremy was nearly asleep again before – with her owner’s consent – Griddlehaus bundled the purring feline back into his jacket and left a renewed Jeremy to complete his convalescence.
‘All he cared about were the books,’ said Dulcie, as the elevator took them back down. ‘The books and Secret, of course. I bet Wardley has been harassing him for years. Jeremy’s breakdown was a stroke of luck for Wardley. Who would believe anything a crazy person would say about a hero cop?’
Griddlehaus shook his head. ‘I never knew.’
‘Nobody would have,’ said Dulcie. ‘Only Wardley overreached. I wonder why?’
‘The Bethesda sale,’ responded her friend. ‘The Felix psalter that went to auction in January. If what you surmise is true, and it rings true to me, I would not be surprised if the news of a multimillion dollar sale made the lieutenant re-evaluate those lost “worthless” books.’
‘And he’s been hunting for them since. Tearing books apart, looking for a similar prize.’ Dulcie thought about the break-ins. About the task force, and about a poor scholar, terrorized and thrown in a pit, when he wouldn’t give up his secrets. ‘And pressuring Truckworth for help.’
‘Poor Stuart.’ Griddlehaus sighed. ‘I hear he’s making a deal to testify against Wardley and to help track down the stolen items, but I fear he is still going to have to serve some time. Whatever bargain he made, it cost him dearly. I wonder if Kyle will ever forgive him?’
And now Dulcie was – finally – writing. The books from the Stavendish were safe now. They had survived the purge, if not the academic trend that devalued them so, and their recovery had given them a certain luster. But Dulcie’s self-imposed deadline still loomed. She’d finish this chapter tonight, if the cat would let her.
Perhaps it was the moonlight. The super moon may have passed, but even the waning gibbous was bright, casting silver shadows across the kitchen table. Whatever the reason, Esmé was acting odd, darting about and howling. ‘Is it the moon, kitty?’ Dulcie asked. ‘Are you my new moon cat?’
Esmé stared at her, as if she were mad.
‘Well, if you’re not going to tell me what’s going on, kitty—’
Dulcie stopped. She’d heard – what? A noise. The sound of scraping, of metal, outside. By her door. She had been feeling good. Too good, maybe. A woman alone shouldn’t take chances. She thought of her heroine – and then of Jeremy and even Stuart Truckworth. Men, too, could be victimized, and she needed to be alert.
Another scrape. This wasn’t theoretical. Someone was at the door. She looked around. The can opener. It wasn’t much but if she hit someone hard with it …
‘Esmé, no!’ The little cat had jumped off the table and was charging at the door, clearly determined to tackle the intruder before Dulcie could. But Esmé was only a cat – a small cat. Dulcie dived, reaching for her, and heard the startled ‘Mew!’ as the round feline slipped through her hands and dove for the feet that had appeared in the doorway.
‘Esmé!’ Hands reached for her. ‘Dulcie, are you OK? Why are you on the floor?’
She looked up, blinking. Chris was standing in the doorway, while their pet pushed up against him, purring.
‘You’re home!’ She stood, aware once more of the toll of the day.
‘I came home one day early,’ he said, hugging her as he reached to pull her to her feet.
‘You were worried about me?’ Dulcie stepped back to look at him. So much had happened in one week. Did he look the same to her? Did she to him?
‘Not really. I know you can take care of yourself,’ he said. ‘But I missed you.’
‘I missed you, too,’ said Dulcie, and reached to hold him close again. Esmé twined around both their ankles now, but it wasn’t merely her purr that rose to envelope them with warmth.
‘We are all creatures of moonlight and dreams, Dulcie.’ The voice in the purr might be for her alone. Its meaning, she would share. ‘Moonlight and dreams, little one. Only together, we may be more.’
