by Clea Simon
‘What is it?’ Rogovoy’s voice was soft, but his eyes were bright.
‘There was …’ Dulcie paused. She wasn’t the sort to tell tales. Besides, she knew herself well enough to understand that half of what she assumed was reality might well be a fiction, embroidered on to a few scraps of observed behavior. ‘I kind of met him in the Science Center this afternoon.’ She settled on a few hard facts. ‘That’s where the big talks are going to be given. Were, anyway.’ What would this mean for the conference? She couldn’t think about that now. ‘Stella Roebuck – the lady who was taken away? She was doing a soundcheck.’
The eyebrows went up again. ‘Like for a concert?’
‘Kind of.’ Dulcie had to smile. He didn’t understand. In her world, these people were rock stars. ‘Some of these presentations are very big deals. There are graphics and charts and, well … they’re just big deals.’ She didn’t have the energy to explain. ‘Anyway, Tesla showed up. I think he and Stella were, um, a couple.’
Rogovoy nodded again, and Dulcie had the sense that this wasn’t news. ‘And then?’
‘Then, nothing.’ She shrugged. ‘I was supposed to meet him after. He was the next speaker up, and I am the departmental liaison and all.’ Rogovoy pursed his lips. Dulcie thought, for a moment, that he was impressed. That was quickly followed by the suspicion that he was suppressing a smile.
‘Well, I am.’ It was the best she could do, and she found herself talking faster. The sooner she could get through this all, the sooner she could go home. Chris, and Esmé, both beckoned. ‘But with all the fuss about Stella Roebuck’s presentation, I missed him. And Thorpe was really mad about that, and so I was hoping to catch up with him here. Tesla, that is, not Thorpe. Thorpe left, and then—’
‘Hang on a minute.’ Rogovoy had raised his hand. ‘Back up, Ms Schwartz. Let’s back up a bit. There was a “fuss” in the Science Center this afternoon?’
‘Her paper, the one she was going to deliver. It got lost somehow.’ Dulcie didn’t see what this had to do with anything.
‘Like, she put it down somewhere and forgot about it? Or someone stole it?’
Dulcie shook her head. ‘Not a paper, literally. It was a presentation. Some kind of multimedia presentation. She had it on her computer.’
‘Ah.’ Rogovoy sounded like he understood. ‘And it got erased?’
‘Not exactly.’ If only Chris were here. He could have explained. ‘We were working with one of the media techs. I mean, if you just erase things, sometimes you can get them back. This was worse.’ She flashed back to the scene with Stella Roebuck. ‘She thought – well, it doesn’t make sense, but she thought maybe someone had sabotaged her. You know, gotten a virus into her computer or something.’
‘Did she blame this Mr Tesla, by any chance?’ Dulcie looked up into the detective’s deep-set eyes. His tone was light, and for a moment she wondered if he was joking. But those eyes were sad. A man had died.
‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘She blamed her ex, Paul Barnes. But that didn’t make any sense.’
‘Because this other dude, Paul Barnes, he wasn’t there?’ Somehow, Dulcie got the feeling that he knew a lot of this. That he was simply trying to find out if she, Dulcie, was telling the truth.
‘No, he was.’ She stopped and looked at him. ‘You know this, don’t you?’
‘Never mind what I know, Ms Schwartz.’ His voice was as even as ever, low and grumbly, like something from deep below the earth. ‘All you need to do is answer my questions. So Paul Barnes was there. Had he been talking to this Marco Tesla?’
‘I don’t think so.’ She shook her head and tried to think back. It had been a very long day. ‘No, he spoke to Stella Roebuck, but that was before she started freaking out about her computer. Then they went off together.’
‘They – he and Stella?’ The voice was low but warm, gentle.
‘No, Barnes was with Renée Showalter. They had been talking earlier. There’s a chance I might be – no, never mind. That really doesn’t have anything to do with any of this. But they left together, at least I think they did.’
‘And this Showalter, this other professor,’ Rogovoy’s voice had gone even quieter. ‘Is she a big, strong woman, would you say?’
TWENTY-THREE
‘Professor Showalter did not kill Marco Tesla.’ Dulcie’s vehemence was, perhaps, undercut by her follow-up question. ‘I mean, why would she?’
Trista opened her mouth as if to answer, then closed it when Lloyd elbowed her. They were squeezed in so tight at the diner’s booth that it could have been an accident. Dulcie didn’t think so, and the look Trista gave Lloyd confirmed it.
‘Seriously.’ Dulcie turned to her blonde friend.
With a sidelong glance at Lloyd, Trista responded. ‘I’m not saying she did. But she was upstairs. And even though he was only recently added to the conference line-up, Marco would have been considered a serious contender for the chairmanship. And, well, we know how high tensions can run.’
Dulcie shook her head and considered her coffee. The friends had all felt the need to go out after the police released them, and a bar hadn’t felt right. Looking at the stale brew now, however, Dulcie regretted the choice. ‘I don’t know. I mean, Tesla’s a big name and all, but I would have thought Stella was a greater threat. Or Paul Barnes.’
She caught the look Trista and Lloyd shared. ‘What?’
‘I know you like him, but Barnes hasn’t published anything in years.’ At least Trista sounded apologetic.
‘And Stella’s work has been sabotaged.’ Lloyd cut in, before Dulcie could explain about Barnes’s upcoming work. ‘That’s kind of thrown her.’
‘Wait, why would that matter?’ Dulcie didn’t understand. ‘Chris will probably get her paper back for her.’
‘Doesn’t matter. She still blew up.’ Trista chimed in. ‘I heard people were talking about her little temper tantrum, and the powers that be were not impressed. Unprofessional and all that.’
‘You heard people were talking?’ Dulcie raised an eyebrow. Trista shrugged. ‘And why are you assuming that Paul Barnes is not in the running? What is it with this place anyway? Or is it simply academia?’
As she spoke, she realized she hadn’t exactly made the clearest argument. It didn’t matter. Her friends were all on the same wavelength.
‘I mean, how could something like this happen and nobody see anything?’ Dulcie looked around at her friends. Not that any of them had the answer.
‘All anyone saw were those damned drapes,’ added Trista, echoing what they had all heard. Lloyd, Raleigh, and Mina had nothing else to contribute, and sat there shaking their heads. That motion, combined with the acidic coffee and the bad fluorescent lighting, was making Dulcie a bit nauseous, and she closed her eyes.
‘You okay?’ She opened them to looks of concern.
‘Yeah,’ she nodded. That was a mistake. ‘Chris has some kind of virus. Maybe I’m getting it. I should go home.’
‘We’re walking you.’ This from Raleigh, although Lloyd nodded his agreement.
‘No, really, I’ll be fine.’ Dulcie knew her friends cared about her, but she didn’t want to be a burden.
‘Dulcie.’ Now it was Trista giving her a look.
‘Really.’ Dulcie gestured to the grimy window. ‘It’s as light as day out there. Look, I’ll walk Mina to her dorm. If that’s okay?’ Mina nodded. ‘Then I’ll call a cab.’
She could tell from Trista’s face that her friend doubted that she’d follow through. But really, what could they say? At any rate, Dulcie knew she had to get home. This night had just been a horror from beginning to end.
‘At least Thorpe wasn’t involved,’ she said as the friends donned their coats.
‘As far as we know,’ Lloyd said, his voice grim.
‘Oh, come on.’ Dulcie felt cheerier now that they were leaving. ‘How could he? You saw how drunk he was.’
‘Unless it was an act.’ Lloyd looked over at Raleigh, and Dulc
ie realized that the two had been discussing just such a possibility.
‘You don’t really think that Thorpe …’ She glanced from one to the other.
‘I don’t know,’ said Raleigh. ‘That’s the problem.’
‘Maybe it was an accident after all.’ Dulcie really wanted to look on the bright side.
‘Whatever it was, we’re not involved.’ Lloyd sounded relieved, and Dulcie wanted very much to believe him.
The night had turned frigid, but the fresh air did Dulcie good. Because of her cane, Mina was one of the few of Dulcie’s colleagues who actually walked as slowly as she did, and Dulcie found this relaxing. Even as she shivered, she felt invigorated by the clear, cold air.
‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ With the trees bare, Dulcie could see the moon. It made a welcome distraction.
‘I guess.’ Mina didn’t sound distracted. ‘Me, I’ll be happy for spring to come around.’
‘Maybe I’m just relieved,’ Dulcie was talking to herself as much as anything.
‘Because it’s just a moon?’ Mina filled in the rest of the thought. A month before, Dulcie had been convinced that there was something … unnatural stalking under the full moon.
‘Yeah, I guess so.’ Dulcie nodded. ‘Though it is kind of cool to think that maybe it is magical somehow. That maybe …’ She paused. Now that she had Mina alone, she ought to tell her about the call from Paul Barnes. If only she’d had a chance actually to talk to the scholar. ‘Mina, I’m really glad we got a chance to work on this paper together.’
‘Thanks, Dulcie,’ Mina said, her voice a little sad. ‘Do you think you’ll still get to present it?’
‘I hope so.’ At the diner, the friends had avoided talking about the repercussions of Tesla’s death. Only now did it hit Dulcie that the conference might be suspended. However, it did give her an opening. ‘I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier,’ she began. ‘But I spoke to Paul Barnes a little about my work – about our work.’
‘Oh, Dulcie, you didn’t?’ Mina’s voice was breathless. ‘Professor Barnes?’
‘Well, I know he’s a star and all, but he was the one who brought it up.’ Dulcie couldn’t help feeling a bit proud. ‘He’s very interested in it.’
‘But … Professor Showalter.’ Mina was sputtering.
‘Oh, I’ll talk to her first,’ Dulcie reassured her. ‘I’ve been meaning to, just with everything that’s happened …’
‘It’s not that, Dulcie.’ They’d reached Mina’s dorm, and the younger woman turned to face her friend. ‘It’s – do you remember what we were talking about before?’
‘Marco Tesla was not killed by a werewolf.’ Of that, Dulcie was sure. ‘Or a were-anything, Mina.’
‘No,’ Mina said. ‘Not that – I mean, what I heard Professor Showalter say to Professor Barnes about Stella’s paper. It’s been bothering me. Maybe the whole thing with Marco Tesla … maybe it wasn’t academic jealousy. I mean, wasn’t Tesla involved with Stella Roebuck?’
Dulcie stopped short, remembering what Roebuck herself had said. ‘Do you think Paul Barnes erased the paper? Out of jealousy?’ The idea of one of her heroes hurting someone was bad enough. But for Stella Roebuck? The striking scholar’s accusations leaped back into her mind: she had accused Barnes of sabotage, too.
Mina had kept walking. ‘Could be,’ she said, pausing as Dulcie caught up. ‘I mean, I guess she left him after she met Tesla at the “New Paradigm” conference.’
‘New paradigm? You may as well just say there are no rules.’ No, she stopped herself. ‘You might as well say Renée Showalter did it.’ Dulcie didn’t buy that, either.
‘That’s a possibility, too.’ Mina’s voice was soft, but level.
‘Wait – how do you figure that?’ Dulcie asked. ‘I mean, why would Renée Showalter want to hurt –’ she couldn’t bring herself to say ‘kill’ – ‘Marco Tesla?’
‘I’m not saying it’s logical.’ Mina shrugged. ‘But if Professor Showalter, you know, likes Professor Barnes … Stella Roebuck and Marco Tesla looked a lot alike. At night, even with the moon, if someone had been drinking …’ She looked over at her friend, holding her eyes. ‘Maybe Tesla was killed by mistake. Someone pushed him, sure. But maybe he – or she – thought they were pushing Stella.’
After that, not even the moon could distract Dulcie. She declined Mina’s offer to come in and use the phone, promising instead to call if she couldn’t find a cab in the Square. In truth, she just wanted to walk. That idea – that someone had killed Marco Tesla – was too upsetting. Probably, she admitted to herself, because it was possible. Not likely, but possible. And she knew who.
Stella herself had accused Paul Barnes of sabotaging her work. And from what Dulcie had learned tonight – from what both Lloyd and Mina had overheard – it sounded like maybe Renée Showalter had, too. If Paul Barnes had been indulging in that punch … No, it didn’t make sense.
‘We are not what we seem …’ Mr Grey’s words came back to her, as chilling as the wind.
‘That’s not what you meant,’ she asked that same wind, ‘is it? Mr Grey?’ It was hopeless. Her spectral pet rarely came when summoned.
She was three blocks past the Square by the time she settled down. By then, the streets were empty, and Dulcie remembered her promise to her friend. She had her phone in her hand before she realized how ridiculous it was, however. What was she going to do: call a cab and stand here, freezing, as she waited? Better just to head for home. As a compromise, she’d text Chris. He was probably asleep, but if not …
‘Hey sweetie,’ she typed. ‘Walking home from Sq. Meet me if up?’ She sent it. She was perfectly capable of getting home alone. Still, the idea that at the next corner, or the one after that, she might see her boyfriend coming to meet her made the night a little less lonely. At least, she thought, it wasn’t too dark.
‘It had to have been an accident,’ she said, speaking aloud. ‘Paul Barnes couldn’t be a killer. Could he, Mr Grey?’
The moon, like the streets around her, remained silent.
TWENTY-FOUR
‘Mew!’ Esmé greeted Dulcie with an affronted cry and began headbutting her before she could even get her coat off. ‘Meh!’ the small cat said.
‘What is it, Esmé?’ Dulcie couldn’t help but be somewhat cheered. The little creature sounded so purposeful – and yet so incoherent – she distracted Dulcie from the horrors of the night. ‘You can talk to me, you know.’
‘Wow.’ Esmé twined around her ankles, nearly tripping her.
‘Hang on.’ Dropping her coat on the ground, Dulcie picked up the cat. ‘Let’s get to the bottom of this. Chris?’
She hadn’t seen her boyfriend on the way home. By the time she turned off Mass Ave, she had even found herself hoping she wouldn’t run into him. If he was sick, he should be at home. Even if he was simply exhausted, bed was the place for him. And really, the thought of her boyfriend, warm and sleepy, was more of a comfort than having him come to meet her would have been. ‘Chris?’
‘Meh!’ Esmé pushed against her chest and Dulcie found herself looking down into her green eyes.
‘Did he go out and I missed him? Is that what you were trying to tell me?’ Dulcie said to the affronted kitty. ‘I guess I should text him again.’
She put the cat down and retrieved her phone. It didn’t seem likely she and her boyfriend would have missed each other. They both walked into the Square often enough to have a fairly set route, and Dulcie had seen only a few other pedestrians out in the night. It was true that she’d heard other creatures. Someone’s party had not been as rudely interrupted as her own, and loud music had filtered down from a window. And, as much as she didn’t like to think of it, she had also heard something … Not a howl, exactly, but some kind of animal noise. Only that had been far off. Down by the river, possibly, if not farther away. Not anything for her to worry about, and she had only picked up her speed a little at that point, telling herself that it was the cold more than the lon
g, high wail that made her step faster along the lonely sidewalk.
‘I’m home,’ she typed. ‘Did we miss?’ She sent the text. But before she hung her coat up, she paused. Maybe she should go back out. He had gone out looking for her. He was sick, or at least tired. And if there was something out there …
‘Dulcie?’ At the sound of her name, she turned. Chris was coming in the door.
‘Oh, Chris!’ She threw herself on him with the vehemence of a kitten. ‘I’m so glad.’
‘When did you get back?’ He smiled, a little flustered. ‘Have you been home long?’
‘I just got in.’ She’d dropped her coat again, but now she took his. ‘We must have just missed each other.’
‘I guess.’ He rubbed his hands to warm them. Dulcie was glad to see there was some color in his cheeks again. ‘I just needed some air.’
‘Oh.’ She paused, coats in hand. ‘So you didn’t come to meet me?’
He shook his head, clearly confused.
‘You didn’t get my text?’
‘No, I’m sorry.’ He walked by her into the kitchen. ‘I must have forgot my phone. How was the party?’
‘It …’ Dulcie didn’t know where to begin. She’d left a long message before the friends had gone out to the diner, explaining everything that had happened, and telling him not to worry. ‘How long have you been out?’
‘I’m not sure.’ He’d taken the sliced turkey out and was eating it in front of the open fridge. ‘You want some?’
‘No.’ She shook her head and plopped into a kitchen chair. ‘Chris, I called you, must have been an hour ago.’
‘Guess I’ve been out longer than that,’ he said, rummaging around in the meat compartment. ‘Do we have any of those meatballs left?’
‘You finished them.’ She watched her boyfriend devour the rest of the sandwich meat. ‘I gather you’re feeling better?’
‘What?’ He turned to face her, a slice of turkey in his mouth. ‘Oh, yeah. ’Scuse me.’ He chewed and swallowed. ‘Sorry, I’m just famished.’
