by Clea Simon
Leaning forward on the bench, she stared up into the dark. Was that a movement? A bit of grey, checking out the crowd? No, she couldn’t be sure.
‘You know, you know, I know you . . .’ Trista’s singing had subsided to a hum as the song itself wound down. Only a few voices could be heard: the women in black, lining the walls, and Avila, up on the stage.
‘I know you. You know I do.’
Trista snorted, and Dulcie looked up. Her friend had her hand over her mouth, suppressing, Dulcie suspected, a laugh. It was too late: a snicker rose from the audience. A distinct chuckle could be heard stage left, and Dulcie remembered. This was supposed to be a moment of silence. The chorus had done its job, building to a subtle, eerie peak. That last note – the one they had all held – was it. Those voices were supposed to fade away, leaving a big dramatic pause before the explosion of sound and color, when all the dancers would magically ‘disappear’ and Gus would take his solo turn.
Only Avila had flubbed it. Maybe it was that she was new to the part. Maybe it was that wig, which covered enough of her face that she probably couldn’t see Bob, the director, partially visible behind a mirrored screen stage right, frantically gesturing for her to stop.
Maybe, Dulcie thought, with a twinge of sympathy, it was that Avila had gotten carried away. The song she was singing, a cappella now and ever so slightly off key, had to do with true love – how lovers perceive each other’s true identities behind ‘life’s masks’.
‘I know you!’ Avila’s wobbly voice rose to the song’s climax, only four bars behind the rest of the cast. Dulcie bit her lip. This was going to be worse than embarrassing. Heath, who a moment before had been frozen in confusion, was now glowering, his handsome face suffused with rage.
‘You know I do . . .’
Only from where Dulcie sat, it didn’t look like Heath was glaring at Avila. The off-key Medusa had stopped now, one hand steadying that oversized wig. This was the moment before the explosion – the big bang that would now, Dulcie feared, sound like an anticlimax. And Heath was staring off-stage – at the director, Dulcie realized. He wanted to make sure that Bob knew Avila was responsible for the debacle, not the show’s leading man.
‘It’s not her fault,’ Dulcie whispered to Trista. ‘These things happen—’
Boom! The glitter bomb exploded, showering the audience with mylar confetti. And then, through the sparkle, they saw it: a slash of grey, like an asteroid, shooting toward the stage.
‘Gus!’ Dulcie cried out. The cat had launched himself, not from the top of the bar and not on to a walkway of any sort, but off the balcony, stage left, flying like a missile across the stage and down. ‘No!’
Her yell was echoed by another shriek, as the cat landed on the screen, claws extended. For a moment he hung there, green eyes ablaze. Then he bounded off, knocking the screen to the floor, and revealing Roni, not even in costume, standing there, exposed.
FORTY-SIX
‘She’s never been afraid of cats before.’ Trista was talking to the director.
‘I wasn’t afraid of the cat,’ Dulcie repeated for the umpteenth time. ‘I was worried for him.’
She shouldn’t have screamed. She realized that as every face – including that of the utterly unfazed Gus – had turned toward her. Not that she’d gotten a chance to apologize. A heavy hand, descending on Dulcie’s shoulder, had spun her around and propelled her from the auditorium. It was Bob, the director, his moustache bristling with rage. Trista had followed, though voluntarily or not, Dulcie couldn’t tell. Now the friends stood out in the hallway while the show continued in the theater behind them.
‘Dulcie …’ Trista’s tone was supposed to quiet her down, Dulcie knew that. But the volume of the show in the theater behind her had only increased since the interruption. If anything, she thought, she and Gus had provided the one moment of true drama. It was an uncharitable thought; one she shouldn’t share. But really, and at this point her thoughts would out, here she was being treated like a criminal, when all she had done was show concern for …
‘Dulcie!’ Trista grabbed her arm. It might as well have been her mouth, Dulcie suspected: the force and intent was clear. But as Dulcie turned to protest her friend’s unjust attempt to muzzle her, she bit her own tongue. Heath, still in his white three-piece suit, was standing behind her, looking a bit flushed.
Dulcie jumped. ‘You!’
‘Me?’ With his large head craned forward, the actor looked like a giant bird. ‘What happened? Everyone wants to know.’
‘Nothing.’ Trista started to step between them, but Dulcie had already recovered. With one outstretched arm, she held Trista back. It was time to face the man responsible for Amy’s death.
‘Nothing happened,’ she began, feeling the weight of each word. ‘Has happened. Yet.’ Heath might be bigger than she was, but Dulcie would not be intimidated. ‘I was worried about Gus. That was a big jump. But now I understand.’ She paused as the realization dawned on her. ‘He wanted to show me something. He wanted me to see whom you were talking about.’
From Heath’s intake of breath, she knew she had hit on something.
‘And now I know.’ Dulcie paused for dramatic effect. ‘It was Roni. Poor Roni.’
‘What?’ Heath was doing his best to feign confusion, but Dulcie was on to him. ‘Oh, you know how she feels about you. You have to. But you couldn’t count on that keeping her quiet, could you?’
‘Roni?’ Heath’s voice was so strained, it nearly cracked.
‘Roni.’ Dulcie held his gaze.
‘Roni?’ Behind her, the director asked the question. This made Dulcie glad. If Gus’s daring leap had made one thing clear, it was that the time had come to make her findings public.
‘Roni,’ Dulcie repeated, her voice firm.
‘Um, Dulcie?’ Trista, to her right, was tugging at her sleeve. ‘It’s Roni.’
‘I know it’s Roni.’ Dulcie kept her eyes locked on Heath’s deep blue ones. She wouldn’t let him look away. ‘That’s why I had to speak out.’
‘Speak out about what?’ Dulcie knew that voice. She turned.
‘Roni!’ She reached to embrace the office manager, but Roni stepped back.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I’m talking about Heath,’ Dulcie began. ‘I know you like him, but he’s not who he seems.’
‘No … you can’t know.’ Roni’s voice sounded strained, strangled even, and Dulcie’s heart went out to her. ‘You don’t really know.’
Dulcie shook her head sadly. ‘I’m sorry, Roni. I’ve had my suspicions and before the show I overheard him talking about you.’
‘About me?’ Roni’s question was barely audible.
Dulcie nodded. Poor girl, she thought. She’s in shock. ‘He said things that might be construed as threatening. And, well, he was involved with Amy …’ She didn’t need to fill in the blanks. Roni was staring at her, mouth open. So, she noticed were Trista, Heath, and Bob – whose moustache was positively quivering.
Heath spoke first. ‘Are you nuts or something?’
‘Now, hang on here.’ The portly director wasn’t far behind. ‘Are you accusing Heath of something here?’
‘Yes.’ It was time to be clear, and Dulcie was going to say so. Only just then, her gaze was captured by a movement – a grey movement. Gus, the theater cat, had emerged from the auditorium and was twining around Heath’s ankles, purring loudly enough for all assembled to hear.
‘Gus?’ Dulcie didn’t understand what was happening. The cat wouldn’t be feigning affection, would he? And he couldn’t be wrong.
‘Okay, that’s enough.’ Bob grabbed her upper arm. ‘Let’s get you out of here.’
‘Wait.’ Trista stepped forward. ‘Hang on a minute. Dulcie?’
Trista turned, and Dulcie realized all eyes were on her. She wanted to tell them what she’d heard. What she believed had happened. But Gus was staring up at her, too. His green eyes held hers, and his purr was
only growing louder.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she said at last. ‘Maybe …’
Trista pulled her aside, and out of the director’s grip. ‘As you’ll recall, my friend hit her head – because of your street prank. And she hasn’t taken legal action, but really, considering the way you run things here …’
‘Okay, okay.’ Bob backed up, hands in the air.
‘Heath?’ A woman’s voice called from the auditorium door. ‘Heath, you’re on.’
‘Wait.’ Dulcie wasn’t sure what to ask, but she knew the conversation wasn’t over yet.
‘Dulcie.’ Trista put her hand on Dulcie’s arm. ‘Let him go.’
Heath took a step toward the door. ‘Heath!’ The soft voice called again, and he turned to go. But as he reached the door, he turned once again. His face, Dulcie thought, was no longer handsome. It was full of fear.
FORTY-SEVEN
‘What was that about?’ Trista hustled Dulcie toward the coatroom. ‘No, never mind. Tell me once we get out of here.’
‘Wait.’ It was Roni, trotting after them. ‘I’m … I’m sorry about all of that. I feel like I’m to blame.’
‘No.’ Dulcie turned to the office manager, who had gone even paler, if that were possible. She also looked frightened. ‘It’s not your fault,’ Dulcie tried to reassure her.
‘I feel like I’ve missed things. Maybe wanted to miss things. Maybe I …’ They’d all been talking quietly, once again aware that a performance was taking place in the adjoining auditorium. But now Roni’s voice had become even softer, and her last words – addressed to the floor – were inaudible.
‘Roni, it’s okay.’ Dulcie pulled away from Trista to comfort the other girl, who leaned into her with a sob. ‘Trista.’ Dulcie looked over her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around the crying girl. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Hey, no skin off my back.’ Trista stood watching them for a minute. ‘I’ve had enough excitement for a while.’
Dulcie watched as her friend retrieved her coat and headed toward the door. Then, her arms still around the dark-haired girl, Dulcie spoke as gently as she could. ‘Would you want to talk, Roni?’
‘Uh huh.’ The other girl nodded and, head still down, led Dulcie back to her office and unlocked the door. ‘I’ve been trying to be more careful,’ she explained, blinking back the last of the tears.
‘That’s smart.’ Dulcie didn’t want to say anything about closing the barn door too late. Instead, she followed the office manager into her small sanctum and took a seat in the guest chair.
‘I confess, I’ve been scared.’ Roni sat behind her desk. It was an oddly formal arrangement, but the tiny office didn’t have a couch. ‘I mean, I haven’t wanted to say anything, but, well, Heath has been acting really odd. You know?’
Dulcie nodded. She did know.
‘I mean, he’s an actor.’ Now that Roni had opened up, it seemed like she had a lot to get off her chest. ‘So, I don’t think you can believe anything he says. But women do. I think, well, I’m not sure …’ She paused.
‘You don’t have to say any more.’ Dulcie didn’t want to make it hard on her.
‘No, I do.’ Roni nodded, her mouth set in a determined line. ‘I don’t know who started it, but I think … maybe …’ Dulcie was about to break in again, but Roni kept talking. ‘I think he and Amy were behind the whole hacking thing.’
‘What?’ That wasn’t what Dulcie had been expecting.
‘I’m almost sure of it.’ Roni was nodding, gaining courage from her own words. ‘She was studying computer science, you know?’ Dulcie nodded, but kept quiet. Roni’s unfortunate verbal tic didn’t require confirmation. ‘I think she broke into our system for some reason. In fact, I saw her here, late one night. She was with Heath. That was before I started locking the office.’
‘And you think …’ Dulcie wasn’t sure how to phrase the question. It seemed like a distinct possibility that the couple might have ducked into the tiny office for privacy, rather than any more nefarious reason.
‘I know.’ Roni must have had the same suspicion. ‘She was leaning over my keyboard. Typing.’ She paused, as if she was having trouble remembering. Or, no, Dulcie realized, because recalling the scene out loud was too painful. ‘And Heath – well, Heath saw me first. He must have heard me, because he turned and said my name. He said, “It’s not what you think. She’s found something.” But he was lying.’
‘You think she was behind the hacking?’ Something wasn’t adding up. ‘But the timing—’
‘I don’t know.’ Roni cut her off. ‘About that, I mean. I do know she’d gotten into our bank account.’
‘Did you tell anyone?’ To Dulcie, this would have been obvious, but Roni only shook her head.
‘I should have, I know. But Heath came up to me after.’ Roni ducked her head, but Dulcie could still see the blush that crept up into her face. ‘He went on about how Amy was just a student, a nobody. That I shouldn’t get her in trouble. That she didn’t matter.’
‘And the money?’
‘He said he’d get it back.’ Roni’s voice had fallen to a whisper. ‘That he’d make Amy give it back. That’s why I think …’ She swallowed. ‘I think he was trying to do that. Maybe they fought …’
It all made too much sense. ‘You’ve got to tell the police.’ Dulcie leaned over the desk, but Roni shrank back. ‘It was bad enough when it was just the money. But you think maybe Heath …’ Dulcie paused, unsure how to ask. ‘Maybe Heath was the one who hurt her?’
Roni was nodding, her misery clear in her face. ‘He’s been looking at me funny since then. I mean, I don’t know anything for sure, but …’
Her voice, trailing off, convinced Dulcie. ‘I’ll go with you, if that will help.’ Roni looked up, and Dulcie reached over the desk to take the other girl’s hand. ‘There’s a detective I know. He’ll understand why you didn’t come forward before.’ Even as she said it, Dulcie doubted that she was telling the whole truth. ‘Well, he’ll be easier to talk to,’ she amended her words. ‘We’ll go first thing tomorrow.’
Roni took a deep, shuddering breath. When she let it out, Dulcie felt she could see the tension flow from her. So much so that the applause she now heard almost seemed to be for her. Only Roni’s startled glance at the door brought her back to the reality: Changes had finished its second act. Already she could hear voices as the audience filed into the hallway.
‘Look, I better go.’ Dulcie didn’t want to run into either Heath or the director. ‘Do you want to come with me?’
Roni shook her head. ‘I should stay. I would normally be here when the show is done.’
‘Makes sense,’ Dulcie agreed. ‘Don’t let on that anything is different.’ She stood and peeked into the hallway. Only the public, as far as she could tell. ‘Do you want to meet me there?’
‘No, it’ll be close to midnight, and I’ve got to open up tomorrow, no matter what.’ Roni managed a weak grin. ‘After I open?’
Dulcie didn’t like it, but she could understand the office manager’s logic. ‘Well, okay,’ she said. ‘How about I come by tomorrow at ten?’
‘That will work.’ Roni had pulled herself upright and was already facing the computer. ‘And Dulcie?’ She turned to see her visitor out. ‘Thank you.’
FORTY-EIGHT
Despite a blast of wind that took her breath away, Dulcie felt warmed as she hurried out into the night. She’d done a good deed tonight. Despite disrupting the performance, she’d helped a friend. Or, if not a friend just yet, someone not that different from herself.
Roni already seemed like a new woman: her suspicions must have been weighing on her. Plus, Dulcie’s own suspicions had been confirmed. But as she made her way down the block, that cozy feeling began to fade. Some of it was the cold. Even with her scarf up around her face, Dulcie could feel her cheeks going numb, and on these icy sidewalks, she couldn’t even run to warm up.
Some of it was worry. Had she done the right thi
ng, letting Roni stay at the theater? She wouldn’t be alone, Dulcie knew that. But still … Dulcie sighed. At least in the theater, it was warm and light. Out here, everything looked strange. Although the snow was still fresh enough to be mostly white, its icy crust reflecting the street lights, the drifts and plowed-up snow made for strange shadows that turned the familiar walk into something eerie and new. Even the colors were different – silver, almost. Or blue – blue-grey – kind of like Gus, with his soft, shadowy coat. Even the way the shadow moved, ducking around a pile of snow as a lone driver slowly made his way down Mass Ave, was reminiscent of the cat. Which, come to think of it, got to the heart of her unease.
Why had Gus been so friendly toward Heath?
It could be nothing, Dulcie knew. Although her natural bent was to attribute greater powers of discernment to any feline, it was possible that Gus was no more perceptive than – well, than Roni had been. Besides, as she had seen, Heath worked hard to endear himself to people. And he could be charming. In fact, Dulcie had liked him, despite herself, when they first met.
Another car went by, moving slowly on the icy road. It was funny how quiet the city could be, Dulcie noted. That car might as well have been going ‘shush’ as it passed, its lights throwing those strange, blue shadows. Once it was gone, Dulcie could hear herself breathe, the sound amplified by the wool swathed around her head.
She reached a corner and had to haul herself over the ridge of plowed snow. At least, she thought as she grabbed the icy upper edge for support, others had been here before her. A rough step had been dug out, large enough for a bigger foot than hers, and then, on top, a slightly flattened place.
Was everyone taller than she was? With an effort, she pulled herself up and paused, considering how best to dismount. Earlier pedestrians had probably simply stepped down from here, but the distance was a little too great for Dulcie to feel comfortable doing that. And the surface of the street – with its mix of snow and salt – looked grimy, as well as treacherous. Still, there was nothing for it, and Dulcie let herself down carefully.