by Clea Simon
Ten minutes later, they were settled at a back table, and Dulcie was growing impatient. ‘I recommend the three-bean burger,’ she said, trying to keep her voice level. ‘Or the split pea soup. But you really can’t go wrong with anything on the menu.’
‘I’m just …’ Alyson had her face in the menu. Dulcie and the waiter exchanged glances. ‘The soup, then. It’s not too creamy, is it?’
‘No cream,’ said the waiter, reaching for her menu. ‘Vegan. And the three-bean.’ This was to Dulcie, who had ordered as soon as the young man – one of the proprietor’s nephews – had appeared.
‘I can’t believe you haven’t been here before.’ Now that they’d ordered, Dulcie felt her mood leveling out. Hunger made her impatient, if not downright cranky, and the younger woman’s obvious distraction had her second-guessing the lunch invite. ‘Not only is the food great, it’s one of the most affordable places in the Square.’
Alyson smiled at that and gave a little shrug. ‘I guess I’ll be coming here more often then,’ she said.
By the time their food had arrived, Dulcie was sure she’d made a convert. Ten minutes after that, Dulcie’s conviction faded. Her own burger might be nearly gone, but Alyson had barely tasted the rich potage in front of her. It wasn’t immersion in their conversation that was holding her up, either.
‘I did say that about gender roles. Didn’t I?’ Alyson dragged her spoon through the soup bowl before her.
‘Yes, you did.’ Dulcie regarded her with concern. ‘I found it most insightful. But maybe this isn’t a good time?’
‘I’m sorry I’m so flustered.’ Alyson brushed a graceful fall of honey-colored locks back. Her face, Dulcie could now see, looked tired, her eyes rimmed with red. ‘I thought lunch would be a good idea, but …’
She shook her head, words obviously failing her.
‘It’s the – tragedy.’ Dulcie chose the word carefully. ‘It’s got everyone on edge.’
Alyson nodded. ‘It’s just been horrible.’ Her voice fell to whisper.
‘Did you know him?’ Dulcie kept her own voice soft. The other woman nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ Alyson looked up. ‘It’s not—’ She bit off the word. Shook her head. ‘The police just would not let me go,’ she said finally.
‘What?’ Dulcie started. She couldn’t help it. And as if hearing her own words, Alyson dropped the spoon. It fell out of the bowl, hitting the table with a clatter.
‘Miss?’ Their waiter had a dish cloth out. Replacing her spoon, he wiped up the spatter. Alyson, her hand over her mouth, seemed barely to notice.
‘Alyson.’ As soon as the waiter had retreated, Dulcie leaned forward, reaching for the other woman’s arm. ‘What did you mean? They were questioning you?’
‘Yeah,’ Alyson whispered and let Dulcie take her hand. Despite the day, the soup, it felt cool to Dulcie. Unresisting. ‘They called me in. I told them what I knew. That I had maybe seen someone. You know, there. By his office. That morning.’
‘Oh!’ Dulcie sat back, startled, the full import of what she was hearing registering. ‘That was you!’
‘No, I—’ Alyson shook her head, confused. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I heard that someone said a redhead was there.’ Dulcie struggled to remember exactly what Trista had said. ‘Someone who looked like me.’
‘You? No.’ Alyson appeared to be as distraught as Dulcie. ‘Not you.’
‘But why—’ Dulcie paused. There were so many questions. ‘I mean, I was there. But after. And when I left, nobody was around. I’m sure of it.’
‘I’m so sorry, Dulcie.’ Alyson’s voice caught, as if on a sob. ‘I never meant to drag you into this. She looked so much like you.’
‘What do you mean?’ An awful suspicion began to grow in the back of Dulcie’s mind.
‘Just that she could be your younger sister or something. You don’t have a sister, do you?’
‘No.’ Dulcie spoke softly, the suspicion taking form. ‘I’m an only child.’ She stopped herself before she said more, turning instead to a question. ‘Why?’
‘It’s—’ Alyson’s voice grew breathy, her eyes wide. ‘It had to be that awful woman. The one who accused Fenderby of – well, of harassing her and all sorts of awful things. It has to be.’
‘Wait, a redhead, the redhead you saw …’ Dulcie didn’t want to believe it. It couldn’t be … this had to be wrong. ‘You can’t – you don’t know.’
‘She was obsessed with him. She threw herself at him, but he rejected her.’ Alyson wasn’t listening. She began to speak faster, her voice growing louder. ‘She went out of her way to destroy his character, poor man. And then, when she couldn’t do that, she must have killed him.’
TWELVE
‘What are you talking about?’ Dulcie’s voice ratcheted up to the point where other diners turned to stare. She quickly quieted, leaning in to ask, ‘How can you say that?’
‘About that redhead?’ Alyson’s eyes were wide. ‘Because I know!’
Dulcie waited. This wasn’t making sense.
‘Fenderby was miserable. He was literally sick about it.’ Alyson kept her own voice low. ‘I was in his office when he took a call about it, and I saw. He started swallowing antacids like they were candy. You know how he got.’ She shook her head. ‘He ended up telling me all about it. I know he wasn’t your favorite person, but even you would have felt bad for him, Dulcie.’
Dulcie bit her lip. Alyson was a generous soul. And her defense of Fenderby, as misguided as it might be, had sparked an idea in Dulcie’s mind.
‘I doubt it,’ was all she could muster in response. Not if what she suspected was true.
‘It had to be.’ Alyson was nodding, a far-off look in her eyes. ‘When I saw her running off, I wondered. But now it makes perfect sense.’
There was little Dulcie could say in response besides repeating her earlier protests, and by then even Lala’s famous hot sauce couldn’t make her cooling burger appetizing again. Alyson, however, seemed to have regained her appetite after unburdening herself and dug in, her spoon soon scraping the bottom of the wide soup bowl.
‘Wow, that was good.’ She finally sat back, beaming. ‘Thanks for bringing me here.’
Dulcie tried to return her student’s smile, but the effort felt forced. ‘My pleasure.’ Speaking felt difficult.
‘What’s the matter?’ She looked up, startled. Lala herself was standing over her, looking down at Dulcie’s plate as if it were a personal affront. Then she turned to Dulcie herself. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine,’ Dulcie replied. She wasn’t, but right now the proprietor’s mothering was more than she could take. ‘Lala, this is my student, Alyson.’
The undergrad extended her hand, but the namesake chef had already scooped up both plates. Nodding at the newcomer, she turned back to Dulcie. ‘I’ll make you up a doggie bag.’
‘Lala doesn’t take no for an answer,’ Dulcie explained, once the big woman was gone.
‘I gather.’ Alyson leaned in. ‘But why was she looking at me that way?’
‘What do you mean?’ Dulcie had never been so tired.
‘Like, well, she knew something bad about me.’
‘I’m sure it’s nothing.’ The effort to smile was nearly beyond her. ‘She was just upset that I didn’t finish.’
‘Here you go.’ Lala was back, a white paper bag in hand. As Dulcie took it, she could feel the weight of the Styrofoam container inside. It was heavier than a quarter of a leftover burger.
‘Thanks.’ She could feel her face thawing under the other woman’s warm gaze. ‘I— It’s just been a weird few days.’
Lala nodded in acknowledgment. ‘You seen your cousin recently?’
‘Cousin?’ Alyson broke in, surprise evident in her voice.
Dulcie winced. ‘No, I— I should. I will, Lala.’
Another nod, and she left. Taking, Dulcie noticed, the check with her.
‘I didn’t know you
had a cousin.’ Alyson’s voice had fallen to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Is she – do you think that’s who I saw?’
‘I really couldn’t tell you.’ Dulcie fumbled for her bag. Between stowing the warm package and extracting several bills for a tip, she was able to avoid the undergrad’s eager gaze. ‘And now I really have to run.’
She wasn’t lying. Dulcie broke into a trot once she was outside the restaurant, pausing only to wait for a walk signal as she crossed Mount Auburn to head for the river. She didn’t have an appointment, but then, she reassured herself, she hadn’t said she did. No, Dulcie told herself, she simply had to run. If she didn’t, she was going to scream.
‘Please, Mr Grey.’ She reached the dorm in less than five minutes. But although she had punched in the apartment number, it was the feline spirit she addressed. ‘Please let her be in. And let her be—’
‘Hello?’ At the sound of the familiar voice Dulcie exhaled, for what felt like the first time in hours.
‘Mina! It’s Dulcie.’ She leaned forward, resting her forehead on the cool metal of the intercom. ‘May I come up?’
‘Uh, sure.’ The reply sounded tentative to Dulcie’s ears. But that could mean anything. Surprise. Mid-terms. A bad connection. The door buzzed and Dulcie grabbed it, racing over to the elevator.
‘Please don’t let her be involved in this,’ Dulcie whispered to the air as the elevator lurched and squeaked its way up. Unlike the aging – Dulcie preferred ‘historic’ – river house she had lived in as an undergrad, the Norbett Tower had all mod cons. Circa 1980, that is. ‘It’s too …’
Dulcie caught herself. She’d been going to say ‘Gothic’. But she meant so much more. If what she feared was the case, then the young woman whose suite she was approaching was caught up in something that not only would be horrible in real life, it would echo what she feared was their shared ancestor’s past.
‘Dulcie?’ The young woman who had buzzed her in was standing outside her apartment door. ‘What is it?’
‘You’re OK?’ Dulcie ran over to her, holding the younger woman at arm’s length before enveloping her in a hug. ‘Tell me if you’re OK?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ The other girl stepped back, and Dulcie could see the rings under her eyes. Her skin, like Dulcie’s, was almost translucently pale. In a month or two, they’d both be freckled. But although her hair was also touched with red, the younger woman’s curls hung softer and looser, the copper burnishing a richer bronze. ‘Why?’
‘I—’ Dulcie bit her lip. Now that she was here, she wasn’t sure how to even ask. ‘You know people think we look alike, right?’ She smiled. It seemed wonderful to her that anyone would think she resembled this beautiful girl.
‘Yeah, I know.’ A faint smile lit up the younger woman’s face. But the slight dimpling of her cheek only served to accentuate the tired look of her eyes. ‘That’s why you first suspected we were cousins, as I recall.’
‘Well, that and a certain author we have in common.’ Dulcie leaned in and dropped her voice to a murmur.
She had never been able to prove that she was descended from the author of The Ravages of Umbria. She hadn’t yet definitively identified the author at all. But over her years of research, she had found many clues. Even if she discounted Lucy’s crazier claims – both about their ‘artistic’ heritage and her own psychic ability – Dulcie knew she could trace her maternal line back to the same Philadelphia neighborhood where the author had lived. Add in the line of red-haired women – an oddly persistent trait for a supposedly recessive gene – and the clues she had received from her own spectral guardian, and she was pretty confident about her supposition. And when she’d met Mina, here on campus, a year ago, their connection had been easier to trace. The two students weren’t direct cousins – Dulcie had figured it out to be either four or five times removed – but their affinity for the obscure author had made the connection seem closer.
Still, here at the college, claiming such a lineage without proof would seem a little odd. One day, Dulcie thought, she’d have proof. Until then, this was something she only shared with a very few.
‘Won’t you come in?’ Mina’s voice was also soft. The result, Dulcie thought, of sadness, as well as fatigue.
‘Mina, I need to ask you something,’ Dulcie said, once they were inside. Mina had gotten them both iced tea – the first of the season – and sat beside her. ‘Is your roommate here?’
‘No.’ Mina shook her head. ‘With all that was happening …’ She sighed, rather than finish her sentence. ‘I gather you heard?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Dulcie took a deep breath. It was time to dive in. ‘But I think I know. It was you, wasn’t it? The undergrad who filed suit against Roland Fenderby.’
Mina nodded and made a big show of stirring her tea. Dulcie, who also cried easily, waited while the younger woman composed herself.
‘I’m not supposed to talk about it,’ she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
‘That’s so unfair.’ Dulcie heard her own voice rise in anger. ‘And you’re not,’ she continued, more quietly. ‘I’m asking you questions, that’s all. And, besides, I’m family.’
She was rewarded by a shy smile as Mina looked up. She was, as Dulcie had guessed, blinking away tears.
‘I should have come to you,’ she said now. ‘When he – when it happened.’
‘I’m sorry I’ve been out of touch.’ Dulcie meant it. ‘I’ve been cranking on with my dissertation, but this is more important.’ She took her cousin’s hand. The tea could wait. ‘So, please, tell me what happened.’
Mina took a deep breath. She seemed, Dulcie thought, to be gathering herself – and for one awful moment, Dulcie wondered if she was about to confess to something more than filing a suit. Then the younger woman began to speak.
‘It was in the fall. I was taking “Politics and Prose”, you know, his seminar?’ Dulcie nodded. She’d been lucky enough to study the same material with Fenderby’s predecessor, Jason Tinderthwall. ‘Some of what I was researching touches on your work, and that made it more exciting. And when he picked me for his own section, I thought I was really lucky.’
Dulcie swallowed. She knew how unlikely it was for an undergrad to get one-on-one time with a full professor. Even as a grad student, she hadn’t been guaranteed such access.
‘When he started asking me to come to his office beyond office hours, saying he wanted to talk about my paper, I thought …’ Mina shook her head and pulled away, but after a sip of tea, she was ready to begin again.
‘Then, at the end of the semester, I was down in the library. I’d been doing some research and I thought I – well, I thought I found something.’
She paused, a faint smile playing on her lips. ‘It’s funny. I meant to tell you, Dulcie. I thought it would be right up your alley. But when I was leaving, I ran into Fenderby and he asked me if anything was wrong. I was, well, not taken aback, but it did startle me. He saw that and said that I was flushed, that my eyes were shining. He actually said he thought that maybe I was coming down with something, and so of course I started to explain that, no, I was just excited – that I thought I’d uncovered something. And he asked me to tell him about it, to come with him to his office and tell him about it.’
A longer pause this time. Dulcie waited, wondering if she should ask, but then Mina began again. ‘At first, I thought he was complimenting my work. He said I was as bright as a shiny new penny.’ She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. ‘I thought, “bright”, you know? But then he started touching my hair. Stroking it, and then he tried to kiss me.
‘I said no, Dulcie. I was very clear.’ She looked up and Dulcie could see that her eyes were now dry. ‘He was full of flattery. Said he’d never felt like this and that I was his smartest …’ She blushed and turned away.
‘It wasn’t your fault.’ Dulcie had rarely felt so torn. She wanted to hug her friend – her cousin. At the same time, she wanted to lash out at the man who
had done this to her. Only, she recalled with a start, someone already had. ‘And the board … did they give a reason why?’
‘Someone vouched for him.’ Dulcie could hear the anger in her cousin’s voice.
‘The wife.’ Dulcie remembered the angry, beaten-down woman she’d met at the apartment. ‘She probably wanted to protect what little security she had.’
But Mina was shaking her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t think so. I mean, it was all confidential, so I can’t be sure. But I got the feeling it was somebody in the university community. I mean, directly. Another faculty member,’ she explained. ‘Or a student.’
‘But who?’ Dulcie wasn’t questioning Mina’s instincts. She’d been part of the university long enough to know what the levels of involvement were. A faculty wife was part of the community, even if she had no salary or specific duties or even a university ID. But no spouse would ever be as much a part of the family, so to speak, as another faculty member. When had Thorpe first brought up the idea of adding Fenderby to her committee? Dulcie tried to remember. ‘I mean, I gather he had a reputation.’
Mina nodded. ‘That’s what I’d heard too, when I went to the Women’s Center. They have peer counseling, and a hotline. That’s what gave me the courage …’ She broke off. ‘Anyway, someone testified on his behalf. Corroborated his alibi for the times when I said I was in his office, I gather. I mean, why else would my case have been dismissed?’
‘I’m sorry.’ Dulcie didn’t doubt her cousin for a minute. To her mind, the board’s refusal to pursue the charges only compounded the crime. ‘But surely, the police can’t think …’
Mina shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Dulcie. I told them all I knew.’
‘You weren’t— you wouldn’t be down there.’ Dulcie didn’t even want to say Fenderby’s name. ‘Not after …’
