Grey Howl

by Clea Simon

  So that was what Dulcie had missed. ‘She accused Paul Barnes of sabotaging her – of erasing her work.’

  ‘Of erasing it?’ Dulcie wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard Showalter laugh. ‘He wouldn’t do that. And, well, I know he was in communication with Marco these last few days. I believe he’s the reason Tesla came to the conference.’

  ‘Really?’ This was news, and she strained to hear more over the traffic.

  ‘I believe it was something to do with his latest paper,’ said Showalter. ‘I’m not entirely sure. He and I have been discussing another matter.’

  This was Dulcie’s opening. ‘He called me, you know.’ She waited a moment. ‘I was hoping we could talk.’

  ‘I was, too, Dulcie,’ said the professor. ‘It’s – well, it’s complicated. We should speak in person. I’m sorry.’ For a moment, Dulcie thought the professor was apologizing for the noise. She wasn’t. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to be busy up until the conference starts. That’s what my message was about. I thought this morning would be good, but I’m running around.’

  ‘So I hear,’ said Dulcie, her hopes sinking. ‘Maybe I can meet you?’

  ‘I’ve got to run out to the airport,’ the professor explained. ‘Though I should be back by the opening address. Three, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Dulcie was reduced to monosyllables.

  ‘I’ll bring your paper along then. At the very least, we can go over my notes.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Dulcie, and let her go.

  ‘What was all that about?’ Kelly was the one to ask. Chris only looked at her with sympathy.

  ‘Showalter.’ Dulcie shrugged. ‘We keep missing.’

  ‘I’m sorry, hon.’ Chris reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. ‘It seems like everyone is running around like a headless chicken today.’

  She nodded. ‘Maybe it’s just as well that Showalter isn’t here this morning. I’m supposed to get Paul Barnes set up and—’ She stopped. ‘Did you know that Paul Barnes was working with Marco Tesla on a paper?’

  Both her colleagues shook their heads.

  ‘Isn’t that strange?’ Dulcie asked. ‘I mean, if they were both in love with Stella Roebuck?’

  ‘Oh?’ Kelly looked interested. Chris only smiled.

  ‘Dulcie,’ he said. ‘I doubt anyone was really in love with that woman. She just likes to think they are. Maybe some of them play along.’

  ‘I don’t know, Chris.’ Dulcie was already thinking ahead. Neither Kelly nor Chris were privy to the departmental gossip. ‘I mean, if she drove Marco Tesla to suicide …’

  ‘You think that was because of her?’ He touched the laptop, waking its screen. ‘Betrayal. I don’t know, Dulcie, that could mean a lot of things.’

  ‘Trust me on this, Chris.’ Dulcie looked over at the glowing words. ‘In this case, I’m pretty sure it was a betrayal of the heart.’

  Kelly, perhaps wisely, stayed out of the discussion. And Chris, ultimately, bowed to Dulcie’s superior knowledge of the players. But neither seemed convinced that Stella Roebuck had had any part in her colleague’s death.

  ‘Beyond hiding its cause, of course,’ Chris had concluded. Once Dulcie had brought Kelly up on the investigation, however, they had both agreed that Rogovoy should be informed. If they were even considering questioning Showalter – or anyone – about a possible homicide, this email was important.

  ‘Do you want me to take it up to him?’ Chris had offered. ‘I mean, I know you’re busy.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll have to explain.’ She caught herself. ‘I mean, Chris, Rogovoy knows me. He knows that I always get involved.’

  ‘True.’ He smiled back at her. ‘I just thought, with Ms Stella down there …’

  ‘Good goddess.’ Dulcie jumped up. She’d not meant to be away this long. ‘I should get back.’

  ‘No rush.’ Kelly was looking through the glass, and the other two followed her line of sight. ‘I think she’s occupied.’ Sure enough, Stella Roebuck was deep in conversation with a tall, grey-haired man.

  ‘Who is that?’ Chris leaned over Dulcie. ‘He’s not from the university, is he?’

  ‘No,’ said Dulcie softly, and a little sad. ‘That’s Paul Barnes.’

  THIRTY-FOUR

  ‘Professors.’ Dulcie had on her best cheery voice. ‘May I help you?’ This was her opportunity. Her chance to talk to Barnes. Yes, Showalter had suggested that she and Dulcie should confer first, but Dulcie couldn’t let a chance like this go by. Besides, it was her responsibility to help the conference attendees.

  ‘There you are.’ Stella sounded annoyed.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Dulcie tried to smile. ‘I was actually speaking with the computer tech about your laptop.’

  ‘Ah, Ms Schwartz, is it?’ Dulcie smiled and nodded. ‘Ms Roebuck was telling me about her problems.’ Paul Barnes sounded unnaturally formal. That might, Dulcie thought, be why Stella Roebuck turned to stare at him. ‘With her paper?’ he added.

  ‘Yes.’ Dulcie looked from one to the other. Just yesterday, Stella Roebuck had accused Barnes of sabotage. Today it didn’t seem like she was going to pursue that charge. ‘She told you about it?’

  ‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘So regrettable, these computer viruses.’

  ‘Is that what Chris said?’ Dulcie kicked herself. She should have asked her boyfriend what he had told the scholar.

  ‘Chris?’ Stella’s face lit up, the fatigue gone. ‘Is that his name?’

  ‘Yes.’ Dulcie waited, determined not to be annoyed.

  ‘He’s your sweetheart, isn’t he?’ asked Stella. Dulcie hadn’t expected that, and with horror realized she was blushing.

  ‘He’s the best in the department,’ she responded. ‘I mean, he’s not a media tech, but when it comes to computer sciences …’ Her ears were growing hot.

  ‘Well, I’m afraid he hasn’t said much of anything to me.’ Stella seemed to have moved on. ‘We were simply assuming it was a virus.’

  ‘But yesterday …’ She paused. Paul Barnes was standing there, listening.

  ‘Yesterday, I was very upset.’ Stella sucked on her wine-dark lips, as if thinking over her next words. ‘About work, I mean,’ she said. ‘Today, well, today everything looks a little different.’

  ‘Of course it does.’ Barnes wrapped an arm around her shoulders. ‘We’re all shaken.’

  Dulcie looked from one to the other. She had wanted to ask Barnes about his phone call, to urge him to file his application to work in the Mildon, but her job had to come first. ‘So you don’t think the – ah – loss of your paper was intentional?’ She wasn’t going to repeat what Stella had said. It didn’t matter; the woman was shaking her head so vigorously her spikes bobbed.

  ‘No,’ she was saying. ‘I wasn’t thinking. I’d been – I was worried about a friend.’

  That was Dulcie’s cue. ‘About Marco Tesla?’

  It seemed that Paul Barnes’ arm tightened around Stella’s shoulders as she nodded, biting her lip. It was a wonder, Dulcie noted, that the woman had any lipstick left on at all.

  ‘Don’t you think you should say something then?’ Dulcie suggested. ‘Just to help everyone understand?’

  ‘Understand what?’ Paul Barnes was looking at Stella Roebuck. ‘You said it was nothing. That she couldn’t be involved.’

  ‘She?’ Dulcie had missed something.

  ‘I’m sure I was just raving.’ Stella pulled away and walked toward the stage. ‘I’ve just been out of my mind with grief.’ She stopped and turned to Dulcie. ‘Marco and I were close, once upon a time.’

  Dulcie nodded. ‘I heard,’ was all she said.

  ‘Yes, but you’re not the one who had it out for him, Stella,’ Paul Barnes was saying. ‘The one who stole his work. That was Renée Showalter, and soon everybody is going to know it.’

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Dulcie couldn’t get out of there fast enough. It was all she could do not to interrupt. The shock must have shown o
n her face, because Stella had turned toward her in surprise.

  ‘Are you feeling all right?’ Dulcie hadn’t even realized she’d been wobbling until Stella reached for her. ‘Do you need to sit down?’

  ‘No.’ Dulcie wasn’t sure what she was responding to, but she repeated the word anyway. ‘No.’

  ‘Let me get you some water,’ said Barnes. ‘This has been too much for all of us.’

  As he strode quickly out of the auditorium, Dulcie let herself be guided into one of the seats.

  ‘Poor girl,’ Stella said, her voice as soft as the hands on Dulcie’s shoulders. ‘I really do wonder at the university for allowing this conference to go forward.’

  ‘We thought it was for the best.’ Dulcie knew her response was weak. ‘So many people had come here, and it wouldn’t be fair.’

  ‘Huh.’ Stella sat down beside her. ‘Like any of us can concentrate now.’

  ‘Well, you in particular.’ Sitting this close, Dulcie could see the fine lines on the scholar’s face, under her eyes and around her mouth. Even her hands looked rough close up, red scratch marks raked in the dry white skin.

  ‘Why me?’ Stella must have seen her looking. She pulled the sleeves of her black jersey down over her hands.

  ‘Well, you and Marco …’ Dulcie felt suddenly awkward. Maybe everything she’d heard had been wrong.

  But Stella sniffed, audibly, and Dulcie took that as confirmation. ‘It was complicated,’ she said. ‘He was … so supportive.’

  It wasn’t what Dulcie had expected, but just then Paul Barnes reappeared, pressing a paper cup of water into her hands. ‘Drink this,’ he said.

  She nodded and took a sip.

  ‘I don’t know what the dean was thinking.’ Barnes was looking at her with concern.

  ‘The dean?’ Stella’s grief had turned to scorn. ‘Blame that Martin Thorpe instead.’ Another sniff, though this one sounded like a scoff. ‘This is all about his ego.’

  Now Roebuck was attacking Thorpe? It was all too much. Dulcie closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness hit her.

  ‘Dulcie?’ The voice sounded like it came from miles away. ‘Are you all right, Dulcie? What did you give her?’

  ‘Nothing. Water.’

  She opened her eyes to see Chris staring down at Paul Barnes. She hadn’t realized how tall her boyfriend was, or how fierce, compared to the academic.

  ‘I’m okay.’ She didn’t want to stand, not yet, but she had work to do. ‘I just felt a bit faint.’

  ‘I’m taking you home.’ Chris took her hand and almost pulled her out of the seat. ‘Come on, Dulcie.’

  ‘No.’ She tried to wave him off. ‘I’ve got to help set up.’

  ‘I can take it from here.’ Kelly had descended from the booth. Now she looked at the two academics. ‘That all right with you guys?’

  They nodded, cowed. But Dulcie had more to say. ‘I’ll be back before Thorpe’s address. And if anyone else comes by …’ She stopped herself. Clearly, Professor Showalter was not in high favor around here. Plus, she’d said she’d be at the airport.

  Didn’t matter. Kelly understood. ‘I’ve got your numbers,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Chris. ‘Put your arm around me.’

  Dulcie let herself be led out of the auditorium, but she stopped Chris by the big glass doors. ‘Hang on.’ She slumped against the wall.

  ‘Should I call an ambulance?’ Chris hovered, concerned.

  ‘No.’ She shook off his concern. ‘It’s not that. I’m actually feeling better.’ She wiped her brow, as the feeling passed. ‘I guess I just needed to get away from those people with all their negativity.’

  ‘Negativity? Is that what you’re calling it?’ Chris’s tone made her look up. ‘I don’t know what it is, Dulce, but I don’t like either of them.’

  ‘What?’ Dulcie asked. The nausea was fading, but she knew her thoughts were still fuzzy. They had to be, because she couldn’t make sense out of what Chris was saying. ‘What are you saying, Chris?’

  ‘Well, that woman, with her carping and bossing you and Kelly around. You’d think she was queen of the prom, instead of just another struggling academic. I mean, we’re all in this together, aren’t we?’

  Before Dulcie could respond, he went on.

  ‘And that Paul guy, Dulcie. I don’t trust him.’

  ‘I know you thought he might be a suspect, Chris.’ Her head was swimming. ‘But after that note? Don’t you think Tesla might have, well, done it himself?’

  ‘I don’t know, and frankly I’m not sure if I care.’ Chris sounded angry. She craned her neck up to look at him, his face as set as she’d ever seen. ‘I think he gave you something, Dulcie. I really do.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Even though her head was clearing, Dulcie was more confused than before.

  ‘I saw him, Dulcie. When he got that drink for you.’

  She shook her head, confused.

  ‘He didn’t go downstairs to the water fountain. He filled it from a bottle. And when he saw me, he tucked it behind a seat. I swear, Dulcie, he looked guilty. I didn’t put it together until I saw you start to sway, but I don’t trust him. I mean, I know academia is supposed to be cut-throat. But this is ridiculous.’

  THIRTY-SIX

  Dulcie didn’t know what to believe. Over Chris’s protests, she had sent him back to work on the computer. What he’d already found had gone a long way toward proving that Marco Tesla might have killed himself. And, really, except for that tragic occurrence, all of the bickering and gossip was probably more or less normal. Academic conferences were always stressful, from everything she had heard. She’d expected a goldfish bowl. What they’d gotten was more like those tiny tanks of Siamese fighting fish. Still, what more harm could they do?

  Chris had been trying to answer that, when she silenced him with a kiss. She felt fine, she’d said. And since she’d been sprung for a little bit, she wanted to get some work done. What she hadn’t told him was what Professor Showalter had said; she figured that still fell under the rubric of doing her own research. After all, she still had a paper to present in two days.

  He hadn’t liked it, but he’d finally accepted it, though she was aware of how carefully he had watched her walk out. As soon as she’d turned the corner, she had slowed down, still feeling a bit unsteady. As she headed across the Yard, she tried to sort it out. The dizziness had receded – the frosty air helped – but despite her loud disclaimers, she couldn’t entirely discount what Chris had said.

  She hugged her coat closer, thinking. None of it made sense. For starters, she couldn’t see Paul Barnes drugging her. Why would he, when he had only the day before called and practically invited her to work with him? It wasn’t like she had turned him down. They simply hadn’t had a chance to talk. And it wasn’t like she was going to speak out against him, for any reason. Granted, she’d rather have seen Renée Showalter get the position, but he didn’t necessarily know that.

  Or did he? She paused, waiting. But the only voice she heard was calling for a Frisbee. So much for winter. The sun wasn’t doing much to warm her, but at least it was out. The day was bright and clear.

  But the auditorium hadn’t been. No, she shook her head. There was something else going on with her boyfriend. She’d been up in the booth with Kelly and Chris. She’d seen how limited the visibility was.

  Chris had had an explanation, of course. He’d gone to check the door, he’d said. The one Kelly said had been forced open. He’d admitted that, almost shyly, when Dulcie had asked how he’d managed to see Barnes with the bottle.

  ‘I was coming back in,’ he’d said. ‘And he was startled, I know he was.’

  She hadn’t known what to ask then, or if this had any connection to his strange absence the night before. Now, as she climbed the steps to the library, she wondered what was really going on with Chris. Maybe there really was some strange, fast-moving virus going around.

  ‘Ms Schwartz.’ Griddlehau
s, at any rate, looked pleased to see her. ‘I didn’t think you’d be able to get away until next week.’

  ‘Neither did I,’ she admitted, as she handed him her bag. ‘But I really needed the break,’ she said. ‘Plus, well, I had a question.’

  The bespectacled clerk went through her bag in an almost cursory manner, opening the cabinet to lock it away before turning back to her. ‘Shall we?’

  She nodded, following him back to the reading area. Before donning the white cloth gloves, however, she reached up as if to take the quiet librarian by the arm.

  ‘Mr Griddlehaus?’ She didn’t touch him. They didn’t have that sort of relationship.

  He did pause, however, as if taking in the gravity of the situation. ‘What is it, Ms Schwartz?’ Behind their thick lenses, his brows creased with concern.

  ‘Probably nothing.’ Just being here made her worries seem insubstantial. ‘I just, well, things are crazy out there, and someone said something.’

  He waited, not speaking, for her to finish.

  ‘Mr Griddlehaus,’ she said finally. ‘Is there any chance that the latest acquisition – the Philadelphia bequest – could be, well, something other than what we have thought?’

  These were the papers Showalter had brought to her attention – the papers that she had also been instrumental in getting donated to the Mildon. These were also the papers – a combination of journal entries, letters, and some fragments of a novel – that she had warned Dulcie about, only a few hours earlier.

  ‘Why? What do you mean?’ Griddlehaus looked honestly confused.

  ‘Could they be, well, fake?’ Dulcie’s voice dropped on the last word, as her mouth went suddenly dry.

  ‘Well.’ Griddlehaus pulled out a chair and sat in it, something Dulcie had rarely seen him do. ‘We may have a dilemma here. After all, Ms Schwartz, I thought that you were working on their authentication.’

  She nodded. That was the crux of the problem. ‘I know, Mr Griddlehaus, I know.’ She tried to swallow. ‘And I’ve been so sure, too. But it has been suggested to me that they are not, well, that they are not what they appear.’