by Clea Simon
Instead of returning to his post, he stayed, blinking at her through those large lenses. It was as much an invitation as he would give.
‘It’s the whole thing with that theater group, Mr Griddlehaus.’ She hadn’t come here to confide, but it would be easier to concentrate if she could get this off her chest. ‘I was over there yesterday and, well, earlier today.’ The more she talked about it, the more she felt that maybe she did seem a tad obsessed. ‘I was only trying to help out, you understand. But, well, it seems that somebody has complained about me.’
‘I am sorry.’ He clasped his hands together. ‘Is there anything I might do?’
‘Thank you, no.’ His concern warmed her – and gave her a second thought. ‘Unless, do you know anything about trapping cats?’
Griddlehaus stepped back, his eyes widening in surprise.
‘I mean, a lost cat. Not …’ Dulcie shook her head. ‘Never mind, but thank you.’
‘Someone has lost a cat?’ He stepped closer again, imagined sins dismissed. And so Dulcie explained. Everything. The quiet clerk made a good listener, not interrupting and nodding sympathetically whenever she looked up for confirmation. Somehow it felt better to get it all out: from that first misleading sighting to the email that led her back to the theater and finally to Gus.
‘Chris said we’re going to have snow,’ she wound up, several minutes later. ‘And, well, I’m worried.’
Griddlehaus nodded, as if sharing her concern. ‘Plus, there’s that question of authorship.’
‘Excuse me?’ Not that her thesis wasn’t important, but hadn’t he been listening to her?
‘Authorship,’ he repeated, pronouncing the word carefully, as if she might have misunderstood. ‘The question of who created that … that virus you spoke of,’ he said. ‘Surely, somebody was responsible for writing that as well.’
‘I guess so.’ Dulcie toyed with the idea. ‘But that could have been a glitch.’
Griddlehaus’s eyebrows went up again.
‘Mr Griddlehaus, I do believe you are seeing a conspiracy at work here.’ Dulcie couldn’t help but smile. Life probably wasn’t very exciting for a librarian, even a librarian in the renowned Mildon Collection.
‘I don’t know, Ms Schwartz.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘It seems to me that when such nefarious deeds as murder are afoot, the analytical mind would be wrong to dismiss any event that appears to be out of the normal scheme of things.’
‘Are you saying it’s a clue?’ Dulcie wasn’t sure whether to take the little man seriously.
He nodded. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘it was done by the cat.’
‘Oh, Mr Griddlehaus.’ Dulcie shook her head. ‘You think I’m wasting my time, too.’
She waited, expecting a quick answer, but the clerk only shook his head.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘I’ve seen something similar with other grad students, Ms Schwartz,’ he said, finally. ‘It is perhaps rather too easy to become derailed. Especially in the final stages …’ He was actually biting his lower lip.
‘Point taken, Mr Griddlehaus.’ Dulcie summoned a smile, to show that she harbored no hard feelings. ‘So now, let me look at this page.’
Whether because of the librarian’s gentle admonishment or because she had finally unburdened herself, Dulcie found that she was in fact able to concentrate on the page before her.
‘Flee,’ cried the Stranger, his verdurous Eyes near Sparking in the Night. ‘For to Save the very Soul, you must abandon all Propriety. Take passage, fair Lady, lest He who Claims your fortune by unjust Law also comes to lay his wrongful and unmerited title upon that which dearer still remains yet to you.’
It wasn’t much, Dulcie had to admit, but it was gratifying. This passage, following hard on the segment she had already deciphered, seemed to confirm her dream of the other night. And, while verbose, it did serve to move the story forward. And now she knew for sure that the protagonist was fleeing a man, she could begin to theorize how the confrontation would take place. Except, of course, that she shouldn’t theorize – not until she had more of the fragments in order. And, of course, she shouldn’t be focusing on the story at all. What mattered, as everybody seemed to be reminding her, was the authorship.
Well, there were clues to that here, too. Several of the phrases were reminiscent of lines in The Ravages. Those eyes, for example, that ‘sparked’. For a moment, Dulcie thought of Mr Grey. He, like this book’s mysterious stranger, seemed to have some crucial role. But, no, she had to focus. Better to look at the repeated use of ‘wrongful and unmerited’. Not only was that a direct echo of the earlier work, it also had the ring of a legal suit. Had the author been involved in legal proceedings? Perhaps attempting to obtain a divorce? It would fit with what Dulcie suspected … But no, that was reason enough not to pursue it. Not for now, anyway. If she was to make any progress, she had to stick to the facts: Decipher more of the text. Note the repeated phrases and recurrent images that would allow her to make her case. She wasn’t, she told herself for the hundredth time, interested in the story. What mattered was the question of authorship.
By the time Griddlehaus came for the box, Dulcie had made a satisfying number of notes. Tonight, she told herself, she’d write up her newest findings. With a little effort, she would finish this chapter.
‘And then I’ll have time to start on the new paper,’ she said, reaching for her coat.
‘Excuse me?’ Griddlehaus poked his head out.
‘Nothing.’ She smiled back. ‘Only I’ve had a proposal accepted. Chicago is interested in it, once the department signs off.’
‘Congratulations.’ He looked honestly pleased. ‘That will buy you time to focus on your dissertation.’
She didn’t dare correct him, and instead headed toward the exit, where she and Chris had planned to meet. On the way up the elevator, she turned her phone on. While she wouldn’t be caught dead talking on it in the confines of the library, she thought she could dare a text. And with a winter storm coming, time was of the essence.
Clicking on Lloyd and Raleigh’s names, she quickly typed: Help look for a lost cat? Meet behind URT? With a moment’s thought, she added Trista and Jerry. The pierced blonde was a friend and part of their crew. Besides, she deserved a chance to redeem herself.
‘Miss?’ She looked up to see a plump young man staring at her. She’d been so preoccupied, she hadn’t noticed that the door had opened on the B level. Dulcie quickly shoved her phone into her pocket.
‘Uh, can you move over?’ The plump man looked down. Following his eyes, Dulcie saw a full cart of books before him. ‘Please?’
‘Oh, yeah. Sorry.’ Resisting the urge to correct him (she not only could, but she would) Dulcie stepped to the side.
The large clerk pushed his cart in with a dramatic sigh, and as the elevator rose, Dulcie slipped her phone out of her pocket again to hit send. As the car opened on the main floor, she added Suze to the chain. Her old friend was a long shot, but nobody would understand the plight of a lost kitty more.
‘You know that’s against the rules, don’t you?’ The plump clerk was looking back at her.
‘It’s an emergency.’ Dulcie pocketed her phone and walked past him, head held high. ‘A feline emergency.’
‘Grad students,’ she heard him mutter as she strode toward the exit. In the greater scheme of things, she decided, it could have been worse.
THIRTY
Chris was waiting on the corner when she got there, ten minutes later, wool cap pulled low over his ears and a flashlight in his gloved hand.
‘I thought we might need this,’ he said, as they turned off Mass Ave. ‘Especially if we find any small spaces.’
‘Thanks, sweetie.’ Dulcie looked up at him. ‘I wonder if anyone else is coming?’
‘Jerry was here a few minutes ago.’ He nodded back toward the Square. ‘Trista sent him off to get some chicken fingers from the Hong Kong.’
‘What?’ This was too much. ‘He
went out for food?’
‘For the trap.’ Jerry appeared, jogging around the corner, a white take-out container in hand.
‘What trap?’ Dulcie was at a loss. Jerry, pausing to catch his breath, only nodded.
‘This trap.’ Trista appeared, holding up a boxy wire cage. ‘Sorry I’m late. Chris filled us in on what was happening with that cat – Gus – and I remembered that they use these in the bio labs. Don’t worry.’ She saw Dulcie’s look. ‘It’s humane. See?’ With one hand she pushed the catch, so that the wire gate fell. ‘If we can’t find him, we bait this with the chicken. If he’s out here, he’ll be hungry.’
Dulcie opened her mouth, but Trista wasn’t done. ‘We’ll put it someplace sheltered – don’t worry, Dulce. Storm or no, we’ll get him.’
‘Thanks.’ Dulcie looked at her take-charge friend. ‘Really.’
‘No problemo, kid.’ Trista reached over with her free hand and hugged Dulcie. ‘We’re all in this together.’
For a while, it didn’t seem to matter. Working their way down the street in pairs, they looked under every loose bit of paper and into any crevice they could find where a scared feline might be hiding. The first alley, by the ice-cream shop, had been a mess, and with the late afternoon shadows already blanketing the narrow space, Dulcie had been particularly grateful for Chris’s flashlight. A slight vibration – the scurry of something fleeing – had briefly gotten her hopes up, but Chris had stepped ahead, pulling the vibrating sheet of soggy cardboard that had moved in such a promising way away from the brick wall. The tiny black eyes that stared back were nothing like a cat’s, and Dulcie had had to swallow her revulsion to keep looking.
‘Would a rat be here if Gus were here?’ she asked her friends.
‘I don’t think they’re afraid of anything,’ Jerry responded, a conclusion Chris supported with a nod.
Gritting her teeth, Dulcie moved down to the end of the alley. The large dumpster there had a closely fitted lid, but Dulcie lifted it anyway.
‘I don’t think a cat could do that.’ Trista, coming up behind her, nearly startled her into dropping it.
‘No, but people can be mean.’ Dulcie didn’t need to explain more. Trista, who’d also brought a flashlight, was shining it down into the corners of the cavernous metal bin. It was, Dulcie was happy to see, empty, and she let the lid back down with a bang.
‘Well, that should’ve woken anybody up.’ Trista was already on her knees, peering under the bin. ‘Nothing here.’
‘Maybe this is hopeless.’ Dulcie looked back to the street, where the boys were waiting. Although the wind had died down, she shivered in the damp air. Out west, Dulcie could often smell snow coming – a certain kind of moisture, the air actually rising a few degrees right before a storm started. Here, she just felt the pervasive nastiness. If Chris were right, this might be a nor’easter to remember.
‘Come on, Dulcie.’ Trista flung one arm over her friend. ‘I’m not ready to call it quits.’
For once grateful for her friend’s bravado, Dulcie heard herself agreeing, and together they walked up to the street.
‘Where to next?’ Chris looked at Dulcie for guidance.
‘Well, they say that lost cats don’t go very far. What they tend to do is hide.’ Dulcie had already said as much. Now she was stalling for time, looking around. The street they were on ran down to the river. But before the next intersection were only these four alleys. Would Gus, perhaps panicking, have crossed Mount Auburn? Would he have gone the other direction, up toward Mass Ave? No. No animal with any sense would try to cross such a busy thoroughfare. Unless …
‘Dulcie, what is it?’ Chris was by her side.
‘I was just wondering.’ Dulcie looked up, her boyfriend’s face full of concern. ‘I didn’t think to call animal control or any of the local vets. I’m wondering if maybe Gus tried to cross …’ The words wouldn’t come.
‘No, from what we saw, that was a smart cat.’ Chris was shaking his head, shaking off the possibility of a fatal accident. ‘And besides, those theater people would have heard.’
‘Would they?’ She wondered out loud. ‘Not all of them liked having a cat around.’
‘Come on, Dulcie.’ He held her tighter. ‘You can’t think that way. Besides …’ His voice lightened as a new idea hit him. ‘They all know you’re looking for Gus. Even if they don’t care, they would have told you.’
‘If they knew.’ Dulcie kept her voice low. She had gotten her friends out here. There was no point in being defeatist about the search when it had barely started.
But forty minutes later, even Chris was ready to give up. The four had searched every alley down the small street and through the churchyard down on the corner. On the chance that Gus had found a way over the theater building – or had doubled back at some point – they had even gone down Mass Ave a block on either side, prompting some queries from passers-by.
‘How’d he get out?’ one woman asked, a note of censure in her voice. ‘Who was responsible for him?’
‘Ah, friends,’ Dulcie had replied. The theater company was in enough trouble without alienating animal lovers.
‘Hm, better hurry,’ said the woman’s escort. ‘It’s going to snow, you know.’
‘Thanks.’ Dulcie made herself stick to the monosyllable.
A few people did offer to help, and to them Dulcie explained further: a silver-grey shorthair with striking green eyes, last seen in the alley behind the theater. Most of them had been distracted by the timing. ‘Oh, is this connected to the murder?’ asked one woman, who seemed a bit excited by the concept. ‘Is he a witness?’ Only one young woman, a local teen, had stuck around long enough to really lend a hand, and when she had left, she had taken Dulcie’s contact info, promising to send word if she heard of a Gus sighting.
‘Thanks, Greta.’ Dulcie had been sorry to see her go, but with both dark and the storm closing in, she couldn’t blame the girl.
‘Maybe we should check by the theater again.’ Jerry had been quiet for a while by this point. Dulcie suspected that it was only loyalty to Trista that had kept him here this long. ‘You know, in case the cat has shown up?’
‘I don’t think I can,’ Dulcie said. ‘I’m not supposed to bother them.’ She looked from Jerry to Trista to Chris, seeing the same expression on all their faces. ‘But maybe one of you could?’
‘That’s it.’ In this situation, Trista’s take-charge attitude served a purpose. ‘We’ll go check the alley right behind the theater one more time. Then, if we don’t find anything, I’ll go ring their doorbell. They’ve got to be preparing for tonight’s show anyway, so someone will be there.’
The little group seemed heartened by the existence of a plan, and with renewed energy they walked back down the street. Even Dulcie, who knew the odds of finding Gus in that same alley were small, felt lighter somehow, but she made herself lag behind for a moment of privacy in the growing dusk.
‘Mr Grey, is this a sign?’ She addressed the dark grey clouds that seemed to grow lower by the moment. ‘We’re doing the right thing, aren’t we?’
Her answer came in a low rumble that roiled from the clouds. A rumble that could have been a purr or a growl of warning, when Chris called back to her. ‘Thunder. Did you hear that, Dulcie?’
She didn’t have to answer. As they passed the copy place, she could already see. The bright light shining out on to the street highlighted the first few flakes of snow.
‘Great.’ She ran to catch up with her friends. ‘It’s starting.’
The alley behind the theater was only about ten meters away, but the brick sidewalk was already slick by the time they reached it, a fact Dulcie noticed as her friends took longer and quicker strides through the deepening dusk. It wasn’t just wet: although the falling flakes were melting on the asphalt of the alley, Dulcie could see a thin film of frost forming on the cars parked on the street. With each passing second, the flakes that landed on her sleeve took longer to dissolve.
; ‘We’ll take this side.’ Trista had her flashlight out as she reached for Dulcie’s arm.
‘Hang on.’ Dulcie felt herself slipping and righted herself. ‘We should start out here.’ Trista looked at her, puzzled. ‘If Gus has been hiding in the back, we don’t want to chase him out to the street,’ Dulcie explained.
A thud and a muttered curse caused them both to turn. ‘What?’ Trista asked.
‘Just another rat.’ Chris reached for his flashlight, which had fallen to the pavement. ‘It startled me, that’s all.’
‘Be careful,’ Dulcie called out. ‘I wouldn’t want you to get bitten.’
‘Don’t worry,’ her boyfriend replied. ‘I wouldn’t either.’ It was an honest answer, but in it Dulcie could hear the beginning of testiness. Her friends were really putting themselves out for her, and there was a limit to how much more she could ask.
‘Damn.’ Chris was shaking his head as Dulcie turned back. It seemed, she thought, that the limit had been reached.
‘Chris?’ She wouldn’t beg. She might, however, stay on after he had gone home.
‘It’s the flashlight, Dulcie.’ He turned and held the light out toward her. ‘I think it’s broken.’
‘We still have mine,’ Trista chimed in. ‘Though I think my battery may be going.’
‘Maybe that’s a sign,’ Dulcie said, trying to resign herself to giving up.
‘Hey, can we help?’ A woman’s voice came from the depths of the alley.
‘Hello?’ Dulcie called out.
‘Dulcie!’ A pale face appeared as if by magic out of the wall. Roni, followed by Avila, emerged out of the hidden door from the back of the theater. ‘We heard you out here and thought we should see what was up.’
‘We didn’t want to bother you.’ Dulcie had rarely felt more relieved. ‘We were looking for Gus again. With the snow starting and all, we thought we’d poke around.’ She turned to her friends. ‘Do you guys all know each other?’
‘I think we’ve met.’ This from Jerry, but Trista was nodding.
‘The other night …’ Roni looked away, blinking.