The Inferno Collection

by Jacqueline Seewald

  “‘For he who lives more lives than one/More deaths than one must die.’ Sounds vaguely familiar.”

  “It’s Wilde. I checked.”

  Kim shook her head. “I’m not certain I know what it means.”

  “I think someone might want to kill me.” Lorette’s words hung oppressively in the still, gloomy air.

  “The note doesn’t have to mean anything of the sort.” Lorette’s offhand comment had shocked her.

  “No, I agree it doesn’t. And I wouldn’t think anything of it either, except for the matter of the accident a few days ago.”

  Kim looked up. “What accident?”

  TWO

  Lorette shrugged uneasily. “I was driving home from school and my brakes failed. I wasn’t driving very fast, so everything was okay, but it was still frightening.”

  “What did the mechanic say?”

  “I didn’t ask.” Lorette refolded the note and placed it back in her pocket.

  “Why not?”

  “I just couldn’t.” She began to walk briskly again.

  “Lorette! How could you not ask?”

  Long dark lashes blinked nervously. “It’s probably nothing. I’m behaving stupidly. As you said, I’ve created what I fear.”

  “Not necessarily.” Kim studied her friend thoughtfully. “Has anyone actually threatened you? Angry students? Jealous boyfriend? Anything like that?”

  Lorette shook her head. “Forget I said anything or showed you the note.”

  “Maybe it’s nothing, but if you’re afraid, there could be something to this.”

  “I did tell Jim. He thought I was being foolish, too.”

  “I never said I thought that.”

  “Jim wants me to move in with him. Mother wouldn’t approve, of course, but I’m hardly a child. What do you think?”

  Kim tried to recall who Jim was.

  “What I think doesn’t really matter. It’s how you feel about Jim.”

  “He’s not the first man I’ve slept with. But I’ve been burned once too often in the past. I have this talent for selecting guys who ultimately hurt me. When it comes to men, I seem to have a sign pinned on me that says victim.”

  “Do you think Jim might want to hurt you?”

  Lorette looked at Kim pensively, her eyes the color of ripe blueberries. “Jim? No, I very much doubt it. He’s so good-natured and there’s this strong physical attraction between us. But then sometimes I think it could be an act, just a nice-guy pose. Oh, listen to me, I’ve become quite a cynic.”

  “I’ve always considered you very sensitive and perceptive about people.” Kim looked up at the gibbous moon that cast an eerie glow over them.

  “I’ve lived long enough to know how devious people can be. At the university, they’re all out for themselves. Screw the next guy. Outside of you, and possibly Jim, there are very few decent, honest people I can trust.”

  The sight of a snake sliding across a fallen log increased Lorette’s pace. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? That’s why I always kept quiet in class. There are those who would rip me to shreds for the sport of it.”

  Kim had on occasion voiced her thoughts and ideas in grad school and found herself the recipient of some snide remark or other, so she knew Lorette was not merely paranoid. But she had accepted the criticism philosophically. When she stuck her neck out, she had to expect others to try and chop it off. It was human nature. Backbiting was common in the English grad program. The game was always who could impress the professor most.

  “Jim’s not like that?” Kim questioned.

  “No, he’s modest and self-effacing, but with a brilliant, creative mind. He’s also the only real man in the program. The others are a bunch of effete, intellectual snobs. Who would think a Montana cowboy would have a sensibility for literature? Kim, he writes such moving poetry.”

  “So let’s assume that Jim has nothing to do with threatening you. Who might?”

  “No one.” Lorette spoke quickly, frowned deeply, biting down on her lower lip. Kim thought Lorette had the kind of look on her face that a person displayed when arriving at the dentist’s office and deciding the toothache wasn’t so bad after all.

  “Just for the sake of supposition, is there anyone who might be jealous of you or hold a grudge?”

  Lorette shook her head, eyes lowered. Kim felt frustrated. She had a distinct feeling that Lorette was holding something back, not telling her the whole truth. Why bring up the matter if she wasn’t really willing to talk about it openly? So annoying! But that was the way their friendship had always been. There were things in their pasts that neither wished to discuss with anyone.

  “Just check around about inferno collections—but do it discreetly—please.”

  “You really think there’s some danger involved, don’t you?”

  Lorette’s eyes met her own directly. “I think there could be.”

  “You won’t tell me more about it? Like how the threat is connected?”

  “It’s best I don’t. In case I’m wrong. Regardless, I don’t want any trouble for you.”

  “But you think there’s a connection between it and the possible threat against you?”

  Lorette narrowed her eyes and nodded her head.

  “I’ll do what you ask. We better go back. It’s gotten awfully dark.”

  “Come back to the apartment. Mother likes you. I can tell. And she doesn’t like many people—not even me very much of the time.”

  Kim was tired and would rather have gone home; still, she didn’t want to appear rude. They walked back the way they had come. Lorette’s mother was waiting for them.

  “I fixed an apple cobbler for dessert. I warmed it up in the oven. Thought it might be nice with a dollop of ice cream.”

  “Mother’s trying to fatten me up.”

  “I have no ulterior motives.” The voice was as expressionless as the face. Mother and daughter masked their emotions very well indeed when they chose.

  “Don’t you have ulterior motives?” Lorette stared at her mother until the older woman looked away.

  “Let’s sit down.”

  Kim complimented the dessert, which wasn’t hard to do because it tasted delicious. They had almost finished when the phone rang. Kim tried not to overhear the conversation, but the apartment was too small.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Packingham,” she overheard Lorette say. “I couldn’t possibly. No, I have company. Yes, I’ll see you in class.” She hung up abruptly and Kim could tell that her friend was distressed.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m having some problems with one of my professors.”

  “Dr. Packingham?”

  Lorette nodded.

  “What sorts of problems?”

  Lorette took a teaspoon of ice cream, then pushed the dessert away. “He tells me I need to rewrite this paper I did for him, that it needs work.”

  “Why, you write beautifully,” her mother said.

  “I don’t think it’s really the paper that’s at the root of the problem, is it?” Kim asked.

  Lorette lowered her gaze. “He says it is. He says that if I work with him on it, he’s certain I’ll get an A in the course.”

  “Well, that does sound good,” her mother said.

  “But you think there’s more to it?” Kim was sure the uneasiness she sensed in Lorette indicated a more serious concern.

  “He’s coming on to me, hitting on me in his own smooth way. He’s been pushing pretty hard for me to go to his place for a private meeting. I don’t want that.”

  Kim tried to place Professor Packingham but found she couldn’t. “I don’t seem to recall him.”

  “There’s no reason you would. He’s new at the university, on exchange from England for the semester. His credentials are impeccable. He’s had two books of criticism published on medieval literature. I’m grateful to study with him, if only he weren’t such a…”

  “Lecher?”

  Lorette smiled as if grateful
for Kim’s comprehension.

  “Can’t you just be pleasant to the man and let it go at that?” Miranda inquired, her forehead wrinkling.

  “I don’t think he’s looking for friendship, Mother. I’ve tried saying no politely. He knows I’m seeing Jim. He’s seen us together in class and out, but he won’t stop bothering me. The thing is, I’m afraid he’ll give me a bad grade if I don’t go along with him.”

  “You could report him for sexual harassment,” Kim said. “It would be the right thing to do. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.”

  Lorette shook her head. “To get along in this world, a woman needs friends in high places, not enemies. I seem to have made enough of those already without even trying. Anyway, you know what happens to whistle-blowers.”

  “I don’t want to see you getting yourself worked up, honey, not like that other time.”

  “And whose fault was that, Mother?” Lorette rose from the table. “I’ll be in the bathroom for a while,” she said. Lorette looked close to tears, as the door shut behind her.

  “I guess it’s time for me to leave,” Kim said.

  “Her problems are all my fault,” Miranda said. Tears glistened in her eyes.

  “I don’t see how that could be.”

  “Lorette had trouble in school. I sent her away to board when she was fourteen. I thought she’d be better off. My second marriage had taken a bad turn. My husband didn’t want Lorette at home. He was very possessive of me and jealous of our relationship. I wanted to give the marriage a chance, so I sent her away. It was a good school, or so I thought. But those bored, rich girls had no morals. They introduced her to pills and liquor. By the time she went to college, Lorette was badly addicted. She cut most of her classes. I didn’t know anything until the college notified me. She overdosed and ended up in a hospital ward. Lorette climbed back from the bottom. It was a hard struggle, but she’s no quitter. I’m very proud of my daughter. I don’t want her to have to suffer anymore.”

  “Neither do I. But life is full of problems. We have to hang tough in order to survive.”

  “Except that Lorette is so sensitive and vulnerable.”

  “Try not to worry. I’m going now. Please tell Lorette I’ll help her in any way I can.”

  “Thank you,” Miranda said in a quiet voice.

  Kim drove back to her own apartment lost in thought. Lorette had never told her about her addiction; of course, that was not surprising. Lorette did not confide in other people, even her friends. Kim wasn’t very different herself, so how could she fault Lorette?

  Once back in her own little apartment, Kim fixed herself a cup of chamomile tea and thought about what Lorette had told her. Why would anyone want to kill Lorette? She was, of course, an unusually attractive woman who might excite sexual jealousy and hostility, but that hardly seemed enough of a motive. Then again, how much did she really know about Lorette? Hadn’t Lorette said she didn’t trust people in general? Had that begun when she perceived her mother’s rejection and abandonment in adolescence? Kim was certain that was the case.

  Her friend was definitely frightened of something or someone, and Kim firmly believed that Lorette must have good reasons.

  * * * *

  Kim was having a difficult day. It seemed whatever she did, she could not please Wendell Firbin, her immediate supervisor. His position as Associate Director of Information Services meant he was constantly evaluating the performance of the academic librarians who served at the reference desk.

  “Ms. Reynolds, I also see a candy wrapper on the floor near the reference desk. We never leave anything of that sort around. This is a university library with certain standards.”

  Kim sighed deeply; it wasn’t easy enduring Wendell’s prissy bitchiness. He was often petty and irritating. He had a tendency to micromanage and occasionally tried to startle her by sneaking up and looking over her shoulder unexpectedly. Fortunately, her seventh sense usually warned her when he was around.

  She had to be fair-minded, and the fact remained that Wendell was a fine librarian. He knew almost every volume in the vast reference collection by heart. She’d been a full-time reference librarian for only a half year. So, although she often wished she could murder him, she also respected his knowledge and abilities, and treated him with the respect due a fine teacher.

  She was showing a student how to do a periodical search when Don Bernard entered her line of vision. He came over and stood beside her, smiling and listening as she finished her explanation. Then he led her toward an empty corner by the encyclopedias.

  “Did you want something special?”

  He gave her a warm smile, his hazel eyes flecked with specks of green. “You’re pretty special, Ms. Reynolds, and I certainly want you.”

  He’d never spoken that way to her before. She felt heat rise to her face. “Don, you’re a lady-killer.” Why had she said that?

  “Don’t give me more credit than I deserve. I haven’t murdered a woman in at least a month.” He gave her a teasing smile. “When I saw you at lunch yesterday, it reminded me that I haven’t talked with you for a while. I thought we could have lunch together.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Are you free at noon?”

  “I can be.”

  “Good, there’s a wonderful Hungarian place near the train station. Several colleagues have recommended it. I thought we might share the adventure together.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll look forward to it.”

  She watched him leave. Their friendship had been ongoing for some time. But Don had never asked her out on a date or expressed any romantic interest in her. They were just two people who shared academic interests and held stimulating intellectual conversations. They were both malcontents to some extent, seeing the weaknesses in academia and wanting to change the system for the better. Something of an idealist, Don was the most interesting and witty person she knew. But she was just as happy that their relationship had remained one of friendship. She did not want complications in her life.

  Independent and self-supporting were terms she could apply to herself. It would be nice to be as immutable and insensitive as a rock. A rocky island. Was that her? It could be. Hadn’t she successfully reinvented herself? She could be what she chose to be, whatever was needed. She had deconstructed her life and reconstructed it to suit her. Now there was no pain, no shame, no past to leave her shaking with bad dreams—if only that were entirely true.

  “Can you help me find a book?” Kim looked up, jolted out of her woolgathering.

  “Certainly, what are you looking for?”

  “It’s a criminology text.” The man handed her a folded piece of paper.

  Their hands touched and she felt an odd charge of energy. She looked at him carefully. He was a strange mixture of disarming and imposing. He had steady gray eyes, wavy black hair and a straight, well-formed nose, but his jaw was square and his features chiseled. He was tall, very tall, and powerfully built. He wore a casual sweater over a denim shirt and worn jeans that hugged his hard body. Definitely a studly hunk. He also had an amazing smile. She blinked and without saying a word, began searching the online catalog for his book.

  “We don’t have it,” she said. “But we can order it for you. Do you think we ought to buy it rather than borrow it from another library?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll ask my professor and let you know.”

  “Why don’t you fill out this form, and we’ll borrow it for you in the meantime.” She handed him the appropriate paper and a pen but was careful not to let her hand touch his this time.

  “Thanks, you’re very efficient.”

  When he turned to leave, Kim noticed a bulge pushing out his sweater at the base of his back. And she recognized it for what it was. It sent a chill right through her.

  She glanced down at the name on the form: Michael Gardner. She wanted nothing to do with the man, nothing to do with any man who carried a weapon, legally or otherwise.

  * * * *
>
  Kim’s lunch date was pleasant enough at first. Don Bernard seemed to know just how to put her at ease. He joked about students, the administration, his colleagues. He was the only person who could make her laugh easily. Don ordered goulash for them. She preferred not to eat meat, and especially not veal, but made an exception this time. As Don promised, the meal was delicious, the vegetables fresh and savory. She ate in pensive contemplation, her mind drifting back to the conversation she’d had with Lorette the previous evening.

  “Is something troubling you? You seem quieter than usual today.”

  “Do I? I suppose I’ve been a bit preoccupied.”

  “Anything to do with Lorette Campbell?”

  “You know Lorette, don’t you?”

  He answered slowly, as if choosing his words with care. “Of course, I know her. She’s a very promising grad student.”

  “That’s good to hear. I suppose you know that we’re friends—or should I say friendly?”

  “Is she having a problem?” His tone of voice was guarded.

  “Lorette thinks someone might be out to harm her.”

  Don’s broad forehead crinkled thoughtfully. “You mean physically hurt her?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  His eyes met hers. “I can’t really believe that’s possible. I’m certain she’s wrong.”

  “Several things have happened. They may or may not be significant. But she’s uneasy.”

  “Do you want me to talk to her about it?”

  She remembered Lorette’s reaction to Don. “No, I don’t think so.” She sensed there had been something between Don and Lorette, something that had not ended well.

  He smiled that wonderful smile of his, betraying a dimple in his cheek. Then he took her hand and held it. “We should be more than just friends.”

  She found herself withdrawing her hand from his. It wasn’t anything she thought about; the action was almost a reflex. Don immediately picked up on it. He was too intelligent to do otherwise.

  “At first I thought it was just me, but it’s not, is it?”

  She found herself flushing. “I have to get back,” she said. What could she tell him after all? That she avoided close relationships, that she didn’t trust many other people, especially if they were male? No, she could not allow the intimacy of such a confession. Self-protection was the best strategy, no matter how charming Don could be. No need to divulge her feelings or the reasons behind them. Her secrets were her own.