Into the Grey

by Clea Simon

  SIXTEEN

  Dulcie woke the second time to the smell of coffee. A quick glance at the nightstand clock showed her that it was almost ten. She yawned and stretched, until a combination of that intoxicating aroma and general anxiety propelled her out of bed.

  ‘You didn’t wake me.’ She found her boyfriend in the kitchen, setting out cereal bowls.

  ‘You needed the sleep.’ He turned to pour her a mug, but nodded back at the table where Esmé was keeping a watchful eye on her phone. ‘You’ve been getting some messages though. You might want to check in.’

  ‘Great.’ Dulcie felt her mellow mood begin to crumble as she reached for the phone. Esmé batted it away, but Dulcie grabbed the little device before it went flying to the floor. ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologized to both of them before she could snark more. ‘It’s just—’

  ‘Here.’ Chris put the mug on the table beside her, as Esmé jumped down with a peeved grunt. ‘Do what you’ve got to do.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Sipping on the coffee – Chris made it almost as strong as Nancy did – Dulcie listened to her messages.

  ‘Ms Schwartz.’ Martin Thorpe sounded worried as usual. ‘Would you call me? It’s necessary that we speak as soon as possible.’

  Dulcie rolled her eyes. ‘Thorpe!’ She mouthed the name as if her adviser could hear her, and nearly missed the next message.

  ‘Officially, I’ll be a visiting professor through the fall semester. After that, we’ll see how it goes.’

  ‘Yes!’ Dulcie fist-pumped the air. She didn’t need to hear the opening of the message to know it was from Renée Showalter, the Canadian academic who had expedited the transfer of materials to the Mildon Collection specifically because she knew of Dulcie’s interest. It was in those papers that Dulcie had found the fragments of the later, forgotten novel by the author of The Ravages. Granted, Professor Showalter could be a bit odd – Dulcie had reason to believe the red-haired academic might even be a werewolf – but she was definitely an ally.

  ‘Don’t you see what this means?’ Dulcie quickly related the news to her boyfriend. ‘If Thorpe insists on me having another person on my panel, I bet Showalter will do it. In fact, I’m going to propose her today.’

  ‘I’m glad, Dulce, really.’ There was something about the way his forehead furrowed, eyebrows disappearing beneath his too-long bangs.

  ‘But what?’ Dulcie knew the signs. She waited.

  ‘Well, maybe don’t go around telling everyone just how happy you are.’ He paused, as if hoping he wouldn’t have to continue. ‘I know Suze was optimistic, but once this gets out, it might sound like motive for you to want Fenderby dead.’

  Dulcie tried to put Chris’s fears out of her mind as she trotted off toward the Square. Nancy had promised her she would squeeze her in with Thorpe, if she came by soon, and Dulcie was eager to set her plan in motion. By the time she went to her eleven a.m. section, she might have Showalter on her board. Showalter – who understood what she was writing and why – would make finishing her dissertation a breeze.

  As she hurried through another fine spring morning, she briefly considered Chris’s other concern – that Dulcie was committing her mentor without consulting her.

  ‘But she’s like family,’ Dulcie had remonstrated. ‘She’s always looked out for me.’ Dulcie didn’t even mention the other bonds she felt with the academic, another red-haired researcher. The possibility that they both might be descended from the anonymous author, as well as the strange sense of the supernatural both shared. Those were too tenuous for even Chris to believe in. Still, Dulcie tried to remember Mr Grey’s words from the night before. ‘Something about protecting our own?’ The soft breeze blew her own curls back against her cheek, soft like the touch of whiskers. ‘That was it, wasn’t it Mr Grey?’

  ‘She’ll do it,’ she said, to a bright-eyed squirrel who paused on the trunk of a maple as she went by. ‘She has to, right?’ The squirrel didn’t respond.

  ‘Nancy?’ Dulcie poked her head into the departmental secretary’s office. While the coffee pot was full, the seat behind the desk was empty. Dulcie took advantage of the former, filling her travel mug for the long trek upstairs. It was only when she realized how slowly she was pouring that she admitted to herself that she was stalling. The motherly secretary might not be able to offer any real aid in her ongoing struggle with her adviser, but just seeing her made Dulcie feel braver.

  The sound of heels on the uncarpeted stairs alerted her to Nancy’s approach, and she ducked out of the office to greet her. It was only when her cheery ‘good morning’ was met by silence that Dulcie noticed that the older woman was wiping her face.

  ‘Nancy, are you OK?’ Dulcie stepped forward to embrace the secretary, realizing too late that she was still holding her mug.

  ‘I’m fine, dear.’ Nancy’s smile was clearly forced, as her eyes blinked back tears. ‘Simply a disagreement.’

  ‘With Thorpe?’ Dulcie couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. If the senior academic didn’t know how lucky he was, he was an idiot. ‘I’m sorry. I know we’re not supposed to know about you two, but …’

  ‘It’s fine.’ Nancy shook her head, looking more relaxed by the second. ‘I feel like you are part of the family now. That’s what …’ She broke off with a sigh, and Dulcie saw her glance back up the stairs. ‘Well, you’d better go to your meeting.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’ Another smile, this one with more heart in it, was her only answer. And so it was with great trepidation that Dulcie ascended those same stairs. Thorpe in a foul mood was not someone she wanted to contend with on the best of days. And anyone who could bring the sweet woman downstairs to tears was not someone to ask a favor of.

  ‘Mr Thorpe?’ The door was ajar, but Dulcie knocked anyway. ‘May I?’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ She heard papers shuffling. ‘Come in.’

  ‘Good morning.’ Dulcie knew the grin on her face probably looked as fake as it felt and kept on talking. ‘I was really glad to get your message this morning, because there’s something I wanted to ask you. I was wondering if, what with the – ah – tragic death of Professor Fenderby, I could apply to have another academic added to my review committee. To add Renée Showalter.’

  There, she’d gotten it all out. The relevant bits, that is. And if Thorpe raised the objection that Showalter wouldn’t actually be a member of the department until the fall, Dulcie was ready to counter with her own timeline. Although she hoped to file the dissertation soon, the final steps toward getting her degree – defending her dissertation – would undoubtedly carry her into the autumn term.

  Thorpe, however, was not objecting. He was not, in fact, saying anything.

  ‘I’m prepared to file the paperwork,’ Dulcie continued, grateful for the chance to say her piece. ‘I’m looking to finish at the end of the fall semester of next year,’ she said. ‘And Professor Showalter has expressed her willingness to work with me even before she gets here.’

  With that, she sat back, waiting for the response. Thorpe was blinking, his mouth slightly open. She had blindsided him, she knew. Thorpe considered Renée Showalter a rival for the position of department chair.

  ‘Ms Schwartz,’ he said finally, then paused to clear his throat.

  ‘Yes?’ She wanted to be polite, but really, she was going to have to insist.

  ‘Ms Schwartz,’ he said again. ‘Do you have any idea why I asked you to meet with me today?’

  ‘I assumed it was because of all the unpleasantness.’ She didn’t want to get into details. ‘And I wanted you to know, you don’t have to worry about my dissertation any longer. I’m really hunkering down, and I’m completely focused. Especially now that I’m hoping to add Professor Showalter to my panel.’

  ‘But – no.’ Dulcie was afraid he was going to choke. ‘That’s not why …’ He paused and reached for his own travel mug. After a long draft, he tried again.

  ‘I’m afraid that won’t be necessary,’ he said, his voice still strangely ti
ght. ‘You’ve been put on disciplinary probation, Ms Schwartz. Yours is an unusual case, I know, and of course none of us are saying that you’ve committed any infractions of the university code of behavior. However, the university does not feel comfortable with the questions that are being raised about your involvement in the – ah – the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Professor Fenderby’s demise.’

  He stopped and cleared his throat. Then, as if reading a proclamation, he began again, saying the words that Dulcie dreaded. ‘Ms Schwartz, I asked you here this morning to inform you that your privileges as a member of the university have been suspended. All work toward your degree must cease pending the successful resolution of the criminal investigation.’

  SEVENTEEN

  Nancy was waiting on the first floor, standing by the base of the stairs and wringing her hands.

  ‘Oh, Dulcie!’she said. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘You knew?’ Dulcie blinked up at her.

  ‘That’s what Martin and I …’ She paused, biting her lip, her eyes welling up again. ‘When you came in this morning.’ She stopped, shaking her head. ‘It’s simply not fair.’

  ‘I have to go.’ Dulcie made her way toward the door, hoping to reach it before she started to bawl. ‘I have a section to teach.’

  ‘Oh, Dulcie!’ Nancy’s voice stopped her, and she turned around.

  ‘You mean I …’ Dulcie shook her head. ‘But, my section?’

  ‘I’ve been told to make other arrangements.’ Nancy looked hangdog. ‘Only for the time being, of course. I’m sure this will all be cleared up in no time.’

  Dulcie stumbled out of the little clapboard house nearly blinded by tears. Suspended? On disciplinary probation? But she hadn’t done anything! All that had happened was that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time – twice. First, when she found Fenderby’s body and then when she had accidentally pulled the bloody book off the shelf. It was almost as if …

  She stopped short. No, this was crazy. If Trista hadn’t put the idea in her head, she’d never even be thinking it. Why would anyone want to frame her for murder? Who disliked her that much?

  Even though she had no place to be, Dulcie kept walking. Maybe if she did, she thought, she’d find an answer. At any rate, she wanted to get away from the departmental office. That was where she had first mouthed off against Fenderby. Where – she paused to consider – both Alyson Beaumont and Tom Walls had heard her wish him ill. Alyson and Tom – who, between them, had focused attention on her cousin, as well as on herself. Had there been anyone else in the offices then? Anyone besides Nancy?

  Alyson had told the police that she’d seen a red-haired woman near Fenderby’s office. Even if she was wrong about Fenderby and Mina, even if she’d misinterpreted, Dulcie didn’t think a student of hers would actually lie to the police. Would she? And Mina had acknowledged she’d been in the library that morning. No, it was Tom who had refused to support Mina’s alibi. He was the one who Dulcie needed to talk to – not only to clear her cousin’s name but also her own.

  But first, she had a call to make.

  ‘Professor Showalter?’ Dulcie almost felt relieved when she got her mentor’s voicemail. There was just too much to explain. ‘I got your message and I’m thrilled. But – well, there’s been a complication. Would you call me back?’

  Her next was to Chris. ‘Disciplinary probation!’ she was yelling in frustration by the end of that message. He would understand. So, she realized, would Suze – and her former roommate might actually be in a position to help.

  ‘I can’t believe I actually reached you.’ Dulcie collapsed on the library steps as her old friend answered. She had wandered over here without any specific plan, but her relief on hearing Suze’s voice – live and not a recording – seemed to drain all the nervous energy out of her body. ‘For real!’

  ‘I hate people who screen their calls,’ her friend said. ‘Though, believe me, I’m often tempted.’

  ‘You don’t think …’ Dulcie paused, anxiety nibbling away at that relief. ‘I was trying to reach Professor Showalter earlier.’

  ‘I’m sure she really is out of her office.’ Suze rushed to reassure her. ‘But, hey, what’s up?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Dulcie. ‘Or, everything. The university has put me on probation. Suze, this is serious. They’re not even letting me file for completion of my thesis.’

  ‘Wow.’ It wasn’t the cheery response Dulcie had been hoping for. Then again, it was nice to be taken seriously. ‘I was afraid of this.’

  ‘You were?’ Dulcie was confused. ‘But I thought you were worried about Mina, that the cops were twisting my words to frame her.’

  ‘I thought the cops were manipulating you.’ Suze paused, and Dulcie struggled to remember her friend’s words. ‘That they were simply bringing up Mina’s suit to see how you’d react. To see if you’d implicate your cousin.’

  ‘But I didn’t.’ None of this was making sense. ‘At least, I don’t think I did.’

  ‘Well, now I wonder if I may have been speaking prematurely.’ Suze’s voice was serious. ‘If they are considering it as a serious motive. Only not for Mina. For you.’

  EIGHTEEN

  Suze immediately nixed Dulcie’s idea of speaking to Tom Walls.

  ‘You can’t, Dulcie,’ she said, her voice firm. ‘You cannot seek that man out. Do you understand?’

  ‘But what if—’ She wanted to explain her theory. That someone was trying to deflect blame. That she was a scapegoat.

  ‘No,’ Suze said again. ‘You cannot.’

  ‘Yes,’ Dulcie had muttered finally. Suze seemed to require a response.

  ‘That would be tampering with a witness.’ Her friend was determined to spell it out. ‘And if charges are filed against you, that would go a long way to implicating you.’

  ‘But what if—’

  ‘No, Dulcie.’ Suze cut her off. ‘I know you believe that you’re the only one who can get to the bottom of this. That you’re the only one who cares, but trust me, you’re not. I’ve been hearing about a special operation on campus, though that seems to predate this situation with Fenderby. Nobody’s talking, but I’m on it. And you should get back to work – and let me do my job. Don’t let this derail you. I promise, as soon as we’re off the phone, I’m going to call over there and see what I can find out. After all, if you’re not being investigated with an eye toward charges, then they have no right to upset your academic career.’

  ‘You mean, maybe you can …’ Dulcie didn’t dare ask.

  ‘Besides, if they are going to charge you, then we have a right to know that too,’ her friend concluded, deflating any hope that Dulcie had left. ‘I mean officially, they don’t have to reveal their evidence until we go to trial. You know that.’

  ‘I do.’ Dulcie had begun sniffling. ‘It’s just a lot to take in.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Suze must have caught Dulcie’s tone, if not her sniffles. ‘I’m pretty sure they’re just casting a wide net. I mean, the evidence is circumstantial. Though the chances of such multiple coincidences …’

  ‘Great.’ Dulcie slumped forward. Only the necessity of letting her friend get back to work roused her to thank her, and then to let her go. Once she’d hung up, she rested her head on her knees, shielding herself from the bright morning around her. What Suze had said made sense, and she was scared. But if she was going to listen to part of what her friend had advised, she should listen to all of it. Suze was a lawyer now, and she was on the case. And Dulcie’s time would be best spent focusing on her own work. Not worrying about things she had no control over. She’d talk to Chris tonight, and he’d be full of encouragement. But with his emphasis on logic, he didn’t always get what she was about. If only she had someone here to cheer her on.

  At times like this, she missed Mr Grey more than she could bear. She didn’t have to explain herself to him. Didn’t have to justify her moods. Granted, she might not have been able to. He was a cat, after all, and when he
lived with her, his means of communication were limited to the occasional soft mrrrup? But she remembered what a comforting presence he had been. The way he would brush against her, leaning in so that she felt the soft warmth of his body against her leg.

  ‘Miss? Are you OK?’ The gentle voice startled her, and she looked up at a face she vaguely recognized. Freckles, not whiskers, set off green eyes, but still there was something familiar in his look of entreaty. ‘Do you want me to get help?’

  ‘No, no, I’m fine.’ Dulcie struggled to her feet as it hit her. ‘It’s Nathan, isn’t it From English ten?’

  ‘Yeah.’ The freckled sophomore nodded eagerly. ‘You gave the talk about political pamphlets.’

  ‘I did.’ The memory brought Dulcie back. While non-fiction was far from her specialty, the recent discoveries she had made of her thesis subject’s feminist topics had intrigued the section head. He’d asked her to give a supplemental lecture. To her surprise it had been well attended.

  ‘It was the best part of the course for me.’ Nathan blushed, red flooding up between those tawny freckles. ‘I mean, I was taking it as an elective.’

  ‘I get it.’ Dulcie smiled. ‘There isn’t much else in American lit for a government major.’

  He nodded enthusiastically, making Dulcie glad she had dredged his name up from among hundreds of former students.

  ‘Anyway, if you’re OK?’ He paused, the question in his eyes.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I am.’ To herself, she added the conditional: ‘now. Thank you, Mr Grey.’ It was good to be reminded that she was not, in fact, alone.