Grey Dawn

by Clea Simon

‘Ah, of course.’ Griddlehaus tipped his head back, as if to peer out of the bottom of his glasses. ‘I should have known. I thought I saw your compatriot, over by the reshelving area.’

  ‘She called me,’ Dulcie confessed. ‘She thought maybe you were having a disagreement?’

  What came next was either a snort or a laugh, Dulcie couldn’t tell. What she could tell was that Griddlehaus was pleased with himself. ‘Some people,’ he said, with evident pride, ‘need the rules explained to them. More than once.’

  Before she could ask another question, he waved her in. Out of habit, Dulcie dropped her bag by the front; Griddlehaus would lock it away when he checked her in, but for now, she followed him back to the reading room. There, she saw Josh Blakely sitting quietly and clearly waiting. His hands, clad in the white archivist’s gloves, were clasped on the table top before him. At their approach, he turned and the expression on his round face could only be described as beaten. Considering the setting, Dulcie realized once again that whatever physical deficits the diminutive librarian might have, on this turf, he was the master.

  Dulcie nodded back, unsure of how to respond. ‘What did he come for?’ she asked, keeping her voice low.

  ‘That’s just it, Ms Schwartz.’ Griddlehaus walked her back to the entrance, where she filled out the visitor’s log. ‘He had no idea what he wanted, not really, or even how we work here. This is not simply a lending library.’ He pronounced the penultimate word with distaste.

  ‘He wanted to take something with him?’ Dulcie looked up in disbelief.

  ‘Indeed.’ Griddlehaus handed her the slip of paper that served as a pass. ‘He was asking about some “information” from the early nineteenth century. He wanted to, ahem, “see if he could check them out.”’

  ‘Maybe he meant he wanted to look at them?’ Dulcie wasn’t sure how conversant the librarian was with contemporary slang.

  ‘Please.’ He stared at her over his glasses. ‘He even asked if he could renew online.’

  ‘Well, it looks like he understands now.’ Dulcie couldn’t resist peeking back at the well-lit room. ‘Do you think he’ll mind if I do some work, too?’

  Griddlehaus didn’t even honor that with a response. Instead, he led her back and saw her seated, before going off to the archives.

  Dulcie pulled a pair of gloves from the box in the table’s center and nodded to Josh. ‘You’ve discovered my secret hideaway,’ she said. It was a little disconcerting to have someone else here, especially someone she’d just been discussing.

  ‘It’s a very cool place.’ He looked around. ‘I, uh, didn’t understand how it worked.’

  ‘Read you the riot act?’ If you weren’t dating him, Dulcie thought, Josh Blakely seemed like a nice guy.

  ‘Kinda.’ He leaned across the table. ‘I thought I could take some stuff out. You know, for Mina. Make up for not having the lecture to play back for her.’

  Dulcie looked at him. His round, red cheeks were positively cherubic, and she couldn’t help but wonder: was he really hoping to cheer up his girlfriend, or was this another way of controlling her life? ‘You’re looking for some early American documents, Mr Griddlehaus said?’

  Josh nodded. ‘I’ve heard there are some really rare things here, and well … Didn’t I tell you about Mina’s research?’

  ‘You mentioned it.’ Dulcie waited. Was this more about Mina’s family tree? But Josh kept talking.

  ‘Mina found something – a letter, or part of a letter in the history department archives. Something about a woman from back then. She might have been a writer; we don’t know. But what grabbed Mina was finding out about her life. This woman had it kind of rough, and I guess she was a real survivor. She’s really taken with her – I mean, Mina is – and I thought if I could surprise her with something original – something that would help her figure out who this woman was – it would be a real treat.’

  ‘I’m sure it would.’ Dulcie found herself drawing back. A woman writer – a ‘survivor’? She shook her head. It had to be coincidence. As unlikely as an undergrad being able to ‘take out’ a document from the Mildon. Dulcie began to understand Griddlehaus’s pique. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.’

  As if on cue, Griddlehaus had come back with a box, which he placed in front of Dulcie. As she sat back, he opened it with a flourish, taking out the polypropylene-enclosed sheets one by one and placing them, carefully, side by side on the tabletop before her. When he got to the third, he stopped. ‘I believe this is where we left off, Ms Schwartz,’ he said, and walked away. He hadn’t even looked at Josh.

  ‘Sorry,’ Dulcie whispered, feeling a bit abashed. Griddlehaus was making her feel bad for the poor boy. Still, since she was here … Maneuvering the large magnifying glass over the page, she began.

  ‘But do not think that though I flee,’Dulcie smiled to think that as recently as yesterday, this one word had given her so much trouble. ‘I fear He who would contain me within Tyranny’s walls. E’en though I reject most vehemently those Disequal bonds, so too would I o’erthrow his claim on she who –’

  ‘Ahem.’ Dulcie looked up. Josh was turned toward the front desk, where Griddlehaus was hunched over his own book. The space before Josh was empty. Griddlehaus was a harsh taskmaster when he had a lesson to teach. Well, it was his library, and Dulcie’s time was limited. She leaned back over the brown and wrinkled page. The magnifying glass stand was already at the edge of the table, so carefully, barely touching the edge of the polypropylene covering, she nudged the page a bit further up to better see the bottom. That was better.

  ‘O’erthrow his claim on she who will come after, for though Body she may be yet not Spirit of the oppressor, and ne’er shall I relinquish to him that which equally is os mine.’

  Josh was fidgeting. And while Dulcie was trying to concentrate, writing down the words she deciphered one at a time, his movements didn’t make it easier. He had one of the pencils out now, and was spinning it slowly from hand to hand. Dulcie looked down at her pad. ‘Is os? Is of.’So the line would read: ‘That which equally is of mine?’ Even now that she had the words right their meaning remained elusive. She needed to concentrate. ‘That which …’

  Josh dropped the pencil. Dulcie looked up, prepared to snap, but the undergrad looked mortified and she instantly felt ashamed. Instead, she nodded. The time to intercede had come.

  ‘Mr Griddlehaus?’ She gently pushed the magnifying glass back, so it no longer hung precipitously over the fragile document, and standing, approached the front desk.

  ‘Ms Schwartz!’ He looked up, as wide-eyed and innocent as a child. ‘Are you done with that box already? I thought, surely, that page alone would take you an hour.’

  ‘Mr Griddlehaus.’ She lowered her voice and leaned in. ‘Do you think, maybe, you can help that poor guy out?’

  ‘I would if he asked correctly.’ From the clerk’s voice, Dulcie suspected he didn’t care if Josh heard him. On second thought, she corrected herself, he wanted the undergrad to hear. ‘All he said was that he wanted to see manuscripts from the area around Philadelphia for 1800 to 1850. And then he looked at me. I waited for him to clarify, and when he didn’t, I assumed he was still figuring out what years, or which townships, or whether he was seeking manuscripts of novels, of biographies, or even of sermons. And I went on with more urgent requests.’

  Once again, Dulcie thanked Lucy’s Great Goddess for her better luck in life. Griddlehaus was a wonderful ally. As an enemy, however, he was formidable.

  ‘I suspect it might be biographies,’ she said, thinking of what Emily had said. ‘Family histories, or the like. But do you think,’ she offered, ‘I could ask him?’ She had no desire to get on the clerk’s bad side, but it seemed like some mediation was in order. Otherwise, she might not get much work done either.

  Griddlehaus sighed with such drama that Dulcie had to work to suppress a giggle. ‘If you want to bother,’ he said. Then he leaned toward her so only she could see his wicked grin. ‘I th
ink I’ve made him suffer enough.’

  ‘Mr Blakely?’ She couldn’t help it: the formality of the archive was as much a habit as the white gloves. ‘Do you think together we could perhaps narrow down your search?’ As she worked at framing the question, she turned, aware that the librarian was looking over her shoulder. ‘Mr – Josh!’

  Dulcie fell against the wall as she was rudely shoved aside. Griddlehaus was charging by her, arms raised high and yelling.

  ‘Stop! Stop right there! You, sir! What are you doing?’

  THIRTY-FOUR

  They reached him before he could do any damage. In fact, as both Griddlehaus and Dulcie yelled, Josh froze, and by the time Dulcie had raced back around to her side of the table, she was wondering if he would ever move again. The shock on his face was enough to make her almost feel guilty.

  ‘What were you thinking?’ Dulcie gently moved the pages out of the undergrad’s reach.

  ‘I – I had the gloves on.’ He stammered, holding up his hands as evidence, his eyes wide and quite possibly tear filled.

  ‘That’s not enough,’ she said, shaking her head sadly. ‘These are very fragile pages. They’re more than two hundred years old. Didn’t you see Mr Griddlehaus removing them from the box for me?’

  ‘But – but I thought I saw you—’

  ‘Ms Schwartz has earned the right to handle certain documents.’ Griddlehaus, recovering from his shock, interrupted, his voice laced with venom. ‘She is a scholar, who comes to the Mildon with respect. While you—’

  ‘Come on.’ Dulcie darted around the table and grabbed Josh’s arm. ‘Mr Griddlehaus, why don’t we just leave for a while?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Josh called, as she ushered him out of the collection. ‘Really!’ As the elevator door closed, he turned to Dulcie. ‘I thought he was going to attack me.’

  Interesting choice of words, Dulcie thought. ‘It wasn’t you I was worried about,’ was all she said. ‘I’ve never seen him that worked up. The Mildon is his baby.’

  The elevator opened onto the main floor. Dulcie couldn’t tell from the look on the guard’s face if Griddlehaus had called up any instructions. Still, she figured, better safe than sorry. ‘Have you had any lunch?’ She asked the red-cheeked junior, as they stepped into the lobby.

  ‘What?’ He stopped to reply. ‘No. It’s only—’

  ‘Come on,’ Dulcie pulled him along. Eleven forty-five wasn’t that early. In fact, it was the perfect time to get a seat at Lala’s.

  For a potential batterer, Josh went quietly, and as Dulcie led him through the Yard and out to the street, she took advantage of his silence to school him a bit in the ways of the Mildon.

  ‘It’s not a regular library,’ she said, still holding onto his arm. ‘It’s the pre-eminent rare books depository in North America.’ She checked out the traffic before dragging him into the street. ‘Perhaps in the world.’

  ‘But …’ They made it to the sidewalk, and she maneuvered him to the right. It was a bit, she figured, like walking a large dog. A large, not overly intelligent dog. ‘But,’ he tried again, as she pulled him by a couple with a stroller, ‘why didn’t he tell me? I would’ve followed the rules.’

  At that, Dulcie paused. The only answer she had wasn’t complimentary, to any of the participants. ‘You annoyed him, Josh,’ she said finally. ‘Thomas Griddlehaus is a brilliant man, and you came onto his turf with all sorts of demands about what he should do for you and what you wanted. And you didn’t respect the collection.’

  ‘Oh.’ Josh shut up after that and let himself be walked down to the little café. Even at this hour, most of the tables were full.

  ‘There.’ Dulcie pointed. ‘In the back.’ When Josh hesitated, she grabbed his arm again. Tables at Lala’s were first come, first served, and she wasn’t missing her chance.

  ‘Lunch?’ A moment after they sat down, Lala herself was there, and from the way she looked down her prominent nose, Dulcie sensed that she didn’t approve.

  ‘Yes, please.’ Dulcie smiled up at the beetle-browed proprietor. She would explain later that she hadn’t been hanging onto Josh out of affection – Lala was very loyal to Chris. Unless, of course, the chef had heard that Josh was under suspicion for the attack on Mina. Maybe it was the constant stream of both community and university personnel who came through here, or maybe she had powers of her own, but Lala managed to be surprisingly well informed about most doings in Cambridge.

  ‘Wow, is that really—?’ Josh was staring up at the large proprietor.

  ‘Three-bean burger, extra sauce.’ Dulcie cut him off. ‘And a diet Coke for me. Josh?’

  ‘Uh, the same.’ He looked up as Lala plucked the menu from his hands. There were not going to be any extras – no bowls of soup, no spicy-sweet roasted nuts – brought to the table today.

  ‘I think you should give Mr Griddlehaus a day to cool off.’ While they waited, Dulcie concluded her lecture. ‘Go by tomorrow, apologize, and tell him that you’d like to learn the proper protocol for using the collection. He’ll be flattered, and you’ll make an invaluable friend.’

  From the look on his face, Josh didn’t seem convinced. ‘Maybe I’d just better avoid the place. I only have another year and a half.’

  ‘Come on,’ Dulcie responded. ‘He’s not that bad.’

  ‘It’s not like I need anything he’s got down there for myself.’ Josh wasn’t looking at her.

  ‘You never do research?’ Unable to see his face, Dulcie couldn’t tell if he was still afraid of Griddlehaus or if something else was going on. Then she remembered what Emily had said. ‘You’re sick of genealogy, is that it?’

  ‘What?’ He turned back to face her. ‘No, that was never my thing anyway. I’m poli sci.’

  ‘Oh.’ She nodded. There was something here, something she wasn’t getting. ‘But you don’t want Mina looking too closely into family histories.’

  He was staring at her quizzically, his brow knotted up. ‘Wait, did I tell you?’

  Dulcie froze. This was it. He was going to confess. But just then they were interrupted by the appearance of two baskets, lined with waxed paper that was quickly becoming translucent as a red-orange sauce dripped from the edges of the burgers each held.

  ‘Wow.’ Josh hefted the burger, which took two hands. Dulcie reached out to stop him, and caught herself. He’d been talking. She needed him to stay relaxed if he was going to continue.

  ‘Sorry. What were you going to say?’ She heard the tension in her voice, and picked up her own burger to cover.

  ‘The woman …’ He took a bite. ‘Oh, wow, this is great.’

  Dulcie did the same. For the first time ever, she barely tasted Lala’s special. ‘The woman?’ It was hard to sound casual, especially with a full mouth.

  Josh nodded and reached for a napkin. ‘It’s all still really speculative,’ he said. ‘But there’s this strange chance that they’re related.’

  ‘They?’ Dulcie took a second bite, a small one, in case she needed to launch another question fast.

  Josh nodded, chewing. ‘Mina,’ he said finally. ‘And the woman. I mean, probably not. That was another of Emily’s things.’ He took another bite, but Dulcie still managed to hear what sounded like, ‘That’s how she is.’

  ‘They, not you?’ This was where Josh had stonewalled her before, and she found herself trying to read his face. The fact that his cheeks were distended with food made it difficult, so she bit into her own burger, this time letting herself savor the spicy patty and the hot sauce. It really would be a shame not to enjoy one of Lala’s specials. Besides, chewing gave her a chance to regroup. And if Josh was going to deny any interest in genealogy, or in Mina’s research, she was going to have to find another way to come at him.

  ‘Tell me.’ She tried again, taking a sip of soda. ‘How did you and Mina meet?’

  ‘Contemporary political theory.’ Josh brightened up at the mention of a course that Dulcie had barely survived. ‘We both took it last year. That’
s when I realized I wanted to concentrate in poli sci. Mina was considering switching into women’s studies back then.’

  ‘Really.’ Dulcie took another bite and considered. She needed to draw Josh out, make him feel like they were having a friendly chat. ‘My room-mate minored in women’s studies,’ she offered. It was an odd conversational gambit. From what Dulcie remembered, Suze’s classmates had been a very tough, self-aware group. Not the sort to fall victim to abusive men. Then again, there was often a gap between theory and practice.

  ‘What’s her name?’ Josh sounded eager, although that could be its own warning sign. ‘I wonder if Mina knows her.’

  ‘Not likely. She and I graduated, oh, what is it? Five years ago.’ Sometimes Dulcie couldn’t believe it.

  ‘Tell me anyway.’ He was working his way through the burger, but he seemed to have mastered the art of tackling the two-handed meal and talking. ‘Mina’s got a lot of friends, still, from women’s studies. She says they’re a really cohesive group.’

  ‘They are.’ Dulcie remembered regular late-night study sessions, when Suze would bring her classmates over. The talk could get heated, but it always ended on a supportive note. In a way, Suze’s minor had helped Dulcie focus on her thesis topic: the female friendships that were key to The Ravages of Umbria. Then again, Suze hadn’t had a possessive boyfriend at the time, and she might not appreciate this one being interested in her now. ‘So, what do you think of that crowd?’ Dulcie deflected his question.

  ‘What crowd?’ He blinked, his round eyes so innocent in his red face. ‘The women’s studies people? They’re great. I even thought about changing my major, well, for a little while.’

  Dulcie felt her internal alarms go off. For a few minutes there, Josh hadn’t sounded like an abuser. She had noticed that he hadn’t insisted on Dulcie giving him Suze’s name. But this could be another red flag. It was unusual for men to be that interested in women’s studies – but it would fit with some kind of odd attempt to co-opt Mina from the start, to move in on her territory and show her that he would always be around. Always watching. Unless … perhaps it was the effect of the warm meal, or the fact that he seemed so happy to be sitting, eating, and talking, but Dulcie wondered, once again, if Josh truly was as clueless – and innocent of the charges – as, well, Esmé.