Authors: Clea Simon
By the time Dulcie emerged, she was completely confused. And a phone call from Suze didn’t help.
‘I don’t know if I’m up to socializing tonight, Suze.’ She’d only half listened as her roommate said something about a special at the People’s Republik. ‘And, I mean, I spend enough time at that bar as it is.’
‘That’s not what Trista was telling me.’ Suze had her lawyer voice on. ‘And besides, they’re inaugurating their new grill. Burgers, panini, all that stuff – but the special is tonight only.’
‘It’ll be a mad house.’ Dulcie already knew Chris would want to go – and that she should release him from his promise of a romantic movie. Her boyfriend packed away food like one of the crazed squirrels in the Yard.
‘It’ll be a lot healthier than some of the other houses you’ve been hanging in.’ The way Suze spoke, Dulcie knew better than to argue. Besides, she had missed Suze. The bar might not be the best place for an intimate conversation, but she’d be able to air some of her thoughts, and get the kind of solid advice she’d come to rely on.
‘I’ll tell Chris.’ She ceded victory. So much for
Rebecca
.
‘He already knows,’ said her roommate. ‘Your buddy Trista called me. It was her guy Jerry who got the coupons.’
Three hours later, she was grateful for the shove. Happily full from a ham and provolone panini, she pushed the rest of her chips over to Chris. He’d been less thrilled about his entree, a fruit, sausage, and cheese concoction that he’d dubbed ‘interesting’ (but finished anyway), and accepted Dulcie’s leftovers with a smile. Across the table, Jerry and Trista were sharing a slice of cheesecake. ‘Frozen,’ pronounced Trista, relinquishing it to her skinny boyfriend. He shrugged and dug in. Suze had indeed brought Ariano, but he was fitting in well with the university crowd, discussing the Patriots quarterback situation with Jerry and Trollope with Trista.
‘He reads.’ Dulcie noted with surprise, leaning over toward her roommate, her voice low. ‘For fun!’
‘One of us has to.’ Suze sounded tired, and Dulcie looked up at her. Almost daily runs kept the color in Suze’s cheeks, but the final, punishing year of law school showed in her drawn expression and the blue-black shadows that ringed her eyes. No wonder her roommate had been absent from her life.
‘At least you’re staying with the exercise.’
‘It keeps me sane.’ Suze shrugged. ‘Speaking of sane, what’s up with that crazy thesis adviser of yours?’
‘Oh, man.’ It was the opening she’d hoped for. An invitation to air. But in such company, after such a meal, Dulcie really wanted to leave the outside world alone.
No such luck. ‘And, what’s up with Lloyd? I thought I saw him in the Yard.’
‘You did,’ Dulcie confirmed, and then proceeded to tell the table about her strange encounter, leaving out only Lloyd’s enigmatic final words and her own suspicions.
‘She’s got to be involved.’ Trista had a taste for conspiracies. ‘It’s guilt. That’s why she bailed him out.’
‘Her father did,’ Jerry corrected her. ‘And he’s some big-deal lawyer, right? I don’t trust any of them. Present company excepted, of course.’
Suze nodded, accepting the charge. ‘Well, he sounds corporate. With that kind of money goes power, so it’s quite conceivable that he’s paying to clean up some mess that his darling little girl got into.’
Dulcie almost interrupted. As much as she was predisposed to dislike a rich girl, and a beautiful one at that, she didn’t see Raleigh as a spoiled brat who would run to her father to be bailed out. She was about to say something about this – something about how maybe it was personal, that despite her denial Raleigh had been involved with Cameron – when Ariano chimed in.
‘Listen to you.’ He was smiling, his broad grin showing white teeth in his black beard. ‘Looking for murderers in the attic! Why not assume the simple solution. Lloyd has found himself a wealthy girlfriend, and she’s helping him out. I don’t know the guy, but I say more power to him!’
There was silence as five members of the university community absorbed his words. Then everyone started talking at once.
‘Impossible.’ ‘Breach of ethics.’ ‘Ariano, love, you just don’t understand.’ This last was from Suze, and she held up her hand for silence from the rest. ‘Lloyd is a graduate student. Raleigh is an undergrad in the same department. That’s as off limits as it gets.’
‘Oh come on.’ Ariano was still smiling, and he reached out to put his hand on Suze’s knee. ‘You’re going to tell me that it never happens? The handsome young professor and the beautiful student?’
‘A professor, maybe, if he was tenured.’ Dulcie jumped in. ‘But you don’t know Lloyd. He lives for his work, but he’s nowhere near anything like a tenure-track position. Not yet. If he were to get involved with someone like Raleigh, it would be the end of everything.’ She paused, her own suspicions breaking through. ‘I have to say, though, I wouldn’t have put something like that past Cameron. He was an arrogant son of a gun.’
‘And handsome, too,’ said Trista in such a voice that Jerry turned to stare. ‘I’m only saying,’ she responded. ‘Plus, he wasn’t like Lloyd. I had the feeling he always had an eye for the outside opportunity. He wasn’t going to end up Bullock’s boy, no way.’
‘Hey, isn’t that Roger Gosham?’ Dulcie wanted to hear more, but the appearance of the craggy bookbinder had thrown her. ‘What’s he doing here?’
‘The rare books guy?’ Trista strained her neck to see. ‘I’m betting the same thing we are.’
Dulcie turned to watch as Gosham – it was definitely him – made his way to the bar. ‘Is Polly with him?’
‘No, why?’ Only Chris and Suze had heard the full story, and so Dulcie briefly explained. ‘So I think they’re a couple.’
‘I don’t see it.’ Trista gave the bookbinder one last look and then turned back to the table. ‘Last time I saw them together, they weren’t getting along too well.’
Dulcie turned toward her, as Chris signaled the waitress for another pitcher. ‘Tell.’
‘It was . . . hell, it was the day Cameron was killed. Polly was coming out of Gosham’s building, and he came after her.’
Dulcie leaned in, intrigued. She’d known that Polly had come from Gosham’s, but this sounded like more than business.
‘He was angry,’ Trista continued. ‘He grabbed her arm, and she pulled away and went running.’
Dulcie mulled that one over. ‘Could it have been a lovers’ quarrel? Maybe over Cameron? And maybe he . . .’ She left the thought hanging.
‘And so he ran off and killed his rival?’ Trista grimaced. ‘I don’t see it. He wouldn’t have known that Cameron would be there – or that Polly wouldn’t have gone straight to Bullock’s. Besides, I can’t see Cameron with Polly. I mean, she isn’t – wasn’t – in Cameron’s league.’
‘But Gosham does seem to be kind of a rough type,’ offered Dulcie.
‘He’s a wannabe,’ Trista countered. ‘He completely fawns over Bullock.’
‘Those aren’t contradictory traits,’ Suze broke in. ‘In fact, you could say he epitomizes the town-gown struggle. As a rare book dealer, he’s completely dependent on the university, and on the professors’ patronage. But on his time off . . .’
‘Maybe he just likes to have a pint,’ Ariano finished for her. The pitcher had arrived, and he poured them each a round.
‘Maybe.’ Dulcie still wasn’t convinced. In fact, the Bullock connection seemed another link between the bookbinder and the bookish assistant. But when no Polly surfaced, she gave it up. Soon conversation had moved on. It always amazed Dulcie how current her friends could stay on television shows. She barely had time to get her work done. But while Jerry and Ariano got into a heated debate about ‘American Idol,’ she left her seat and sidled over to Trista.
‘Tris, what you were saying – about Cameron?’ She left it open, but her friend looked up at her, waiting. ‘Do you, well, was there something going on with him?’ she finally asked.
She shrugged. ‘He did like the ladies.’
‘Tris?’
‘Nothing happened.’ The pixie-like blonde looked over at her boyfriend, but he was still engaged in a heated debate about Paula Abdul. ‘It was during one of Jerry’s more Sox-obsessed weeks last spring, and Cameron had that way of tuning out the world, just focusing on you and your life. I’ve got to admit, I was tempted.’
Dulcie cringed. Would she ever be able to think of their handsome colleague without seeing him as she had last, so bloody and so still? Trista saw her reaction – and misinterpreted it.
‘He wasn’t that bad.’ She kept her voice low, but there was something insistent in it. ‘I mean, he liked nice things, but, hey, don’t we all?’
‘Depends if you’re the “nice thing,” or not.’ Somehow, Dulcie was having a hard time seeing her friend with Cameron. Trista made a face. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘No, no, you’re right.’ Trista raised her hands in surrender. ‘But you know, maybe that’s your connection. Raleigh’s a rich girl – maybe that made her worth the risk.’
‘Maybe.’ Dulcie leaned back in her chair, trying to put the pieces together. ‘But where does Lloyd fit into this? I mean, what’s up with him?’
Trista shrugged. ‘Maybe Ariano’s right and he’s seeing Raleigh?’
Dulcie shook her head. ‘I just don’t see it. I mean, on top of everything else, look at him.’
Trista craned around and Dulcie had to grab her arm. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean literally. But I can’t help thinking about what he said – about needing to protect himself.’
‘What?’
Dulcie kicked herself. She hadn’t meant to tell anyone of her suspicions, but Trista was a friend. Not wanting to be overheard, she motioned her friend over to the bar and, in a whisper, shared Lloyd’s last words.
‘So, I’m wondering,’ she concluded.’ Do you think he could be involved somehow? Maybe he knows something. Maybe he’s trying a little blackmail?’
‘I don’t know, Dulce.’ Trista looked over her friend’s shoulder and then quickly down. ‘But I think we ought to go back to the table. Roger Gosham is staring at you, and he’s giving me the creeps.’
FIFTY
T
uesday morning dawned bright and clear, a fact Dulcie witnessed when her kitten landed on her head at a quarter after six. The little creature looked as surprised as Dulcie, round eyes huge in her bi-color face, and for all that she could have used the sleep, Dulcie found herself laughing.
‘You really are a handful, little girl.’ She lifted the kitten off the pillow, where she had slid, and placed her on the bed. Almost immediately, the kitten began washing, licking herself with a loud, sloppy sound that pretty much precluded Dulcie’s return to sleep. ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’
The kitten paused and turned toward her, blinking, before resuming her morning toilette. And so Dulcie, taking the only hint offered, got up to start her own day. The kitten followed her into the bathroom, staring curiously at the water and jumping the moment Dulcie turned it to the shower setting.
‘So you’re not psychic.’ Dulcie fought back a twinge of disappointment. Mr Grey hadn’t spoken to her when he was alive either. But had he ever been such a clown? As she lathered her hair, she wondered what her old favorite had been like as a kitten. Maybe she could ask him, next time they talked.
What she should be doing in the meantime, she realized as she got dressed, was asking Lloyd some more questions. While she didn’t share Suze’s suspicions, something was definitely going on with the quiet scholar. What did he mean about having to protect himself, anyway?
‘Ouch.’ As if in response to her thoughts, the kitten had pounced, sinking her sharp teeth into Dulcie’s bare foot. ‘No! Bad!’ But the kitten had bounded away. If only Lloyd’s problems were so simple, but something – and it wasn’t Lucy’s intuition – made her think that more was at stake.
Speaking of Lucy, Dulcie realized she owed her mother a call. Her voicemail had been beeping as she left the bar. And the message, when she retrieved it, made her a little worried about her mother’s sanity.
‘Never mind about the squash, dear,’ Lucy had said. Her mother had a tendency to pick up conversations wherever they had been left off – even if the other party wasn’t aware of them. ‘I’ve got it figured out. But do be careful about the book. The weirdness? There’s something about research there. Maybe you’re doing too much research, dear? Anyway, it’s not about love, I know that. I’ll tell you more when you call.’
‘It’s not about love?’ Well, if Lucy’s dreams were still focusing on
The Ravages of Umbria
, they had a point. In addition to the romantic themes, the book did touch on women’s self-reliance as well as the interaction between the physical and spectral planes. Dulcie had been excited to explore this as a metaphor for the mental and emotional components of our lives, back when she was still enthusiastic about her thesis. But knowing Lucy, Dulcie suspected a more spiritual interpretation was in the offing. Listening to the message again, as she waited for the coffee to brew, she checked the clock. No, with the time difference, she should wait until at least noon to call her mother. Maybe she’d have something to report by then.
The walk into the Square was a pleasure, the day so brisk and clear it was hard to remember that she’d stumbled on a murder just over a week before. But that thought, once launched, skidded like a dark cloud over her day, and suddenly Dulcie didn’t want to be alone. Yes, she should get to work, in the library ideally. But first, she’d drop by the departmental office. Might as well refill her travel mug for free, she told herself, knowing full well that she craved the company as well as the coffee.
‘Dulcie!’ Nancy, the departmental secretary, hailed her as she came in. ‘Glad you came in. There’ve been some calls for you.’
‘Oh?’
‘Well, about you, actually.’ Nancy gestured for her to come closer. ‘The police were saying it was routine, but . . .’ She shrugged her disbelief.
‘Did they ask about anyone else?’ Dulcie didn’t want to think about Lloyd, but she couldn’t help seeing his face.
‘No,’ Nancy leaned toward her. ‘Should they?’
‘No, no reason.’ Dulcie turned toward the mailboxes. Nothing but fliers.
‘You’ll probably see Lloyd Pruitt, won’t you?’
Dulcie almost jumped at the name, but managed to turn and nod.