by Clea Simon
‘But she told me she hadn’t backed anything up.’ Dulcie looked up. Nancy seemed to have won at least one victory: the second orderly was pushing the unwanted wheelchair away.
‘No.’ Chris was smiling now. ‘What you told me was that she no longer trusted those systems. Not that she never had.’
Dulcie shook her head. Anglo-Saxon had been easier. ‘There’s a difference?’
A triumphant nod. ‘That was what I was hoping, and sure enough, there is. You know what an ISP is, right?’ He seemed to want confirmation, so Dulcie nodded. He didn’t look convinced. ‘Think of it this way, Dulce. Everything leaves a trail of some kind. Like … computer footprints.’
She nodded again. ‘You don’t have to talk down to me, Chris.’
He opened his mouth and shut it. She leaned forward and kissed him. ‘That was a joke.’
He seemed doubtful, but continued anyway. ‘So, I was betting that she had sent her file someplace. I mean, it sounded like she had, and maybe, I was thinking, even if it wasn’t on her computer, it would still exist on someone else’s. Or on the server.’ He must have noticed the blank look on her face. ‘You remember what I told you about how, when you send a file, the server basically makes a copy, right?’
Another nod. ‘Kind of.’
‘Bingo.’ He was beaming. So much so that Dulcie felt a bit like a heel for her next question. Before she asked, she looked around. The staff and Nancy seemed to have reached a truce: the first orderly was escorting Nancy over to the chairs, while the second fetched a paper cup of water. Tigger, his case still covered by the throw, remained by the door. Stella had retreated during all the fuss and now hung back behind the seating area. Dulcie and Chris might as well have been at home alone.
‘Chris? So … what does that mean?’ Her head down, Stella walked by them, past the chairs.
‘I found it.’ Chris interrupted her next words, raising his hand. ‘No, no. I’m exaggerating. But I know where there probably is a copy. I just have to track down a computer belonging to an Associate Professor MT at Cal.’
‘Marco?’ Dulcie wheeled around. Stella Roebuck was almost at the door. ‘Stop her!’
‘Dulcie?’ Chris reached for her arm again.
‘Miss, please!’ The orderly with Nancy just looked annoyed.
But it was the box by the door that stopped them all. Somehow, in the commotion, the knitted throw had fallen off, revealing the plastic cat carrier and the tufts of orange fur poking through. Even from the chairs, they could all see the box shaking, its inhabitant rocking it back and forth. And from inside, the most ferocious growl.
Even Stella stepped back.
‘Stop that woman.’ Dulcie stood, pulling free of Chris. ‘She’s guilty. Don’t let her leave! The kitten proves it.’
FORTY-EIGHT
What happened next was like a scene from a nightmare. One in which the ones you trust turn on you. Nancy had, of course, jumped up. But racing past Dulcie she had thrown herself on her knees by the kitten’s carrier. Within moments she had the tiny orange fellow in her arms. No longer growling, no longer agitated, the kitten seemed as meek as milk, cuddling in the secretary’s lap.
‘Mew,’ he said, his blue eyes focused on Dulcie’s.
‘Tigger, Nancy.’ She looked from the little creature to the woman cradling him. ‘Nancy, you know …’ The orderlies were approaching, with a slow and steady caution. ‘Tell them why you brought the kitten here.’
‘For Mr Thorpe, of course.’ Nancy held the little tiger closer. ‘I thought it would be a comfort for him.’
‘Dulcie, please,’ Chris, meanwhile, was pleading with her. ‘Not here.’
‘Chris, you of all people …’ She stopped. Looking around, she saw that he was right. Whatever she suspected – whatever she knew – about Tigger, this wasn’t the place.
‘ISP tracking – that’s brilliant!’ Stella, at least, had not fled. In fact, as Nancy had been lifting Tigger from his case, she was stepping forward, a strange smile on her face. A smile she directed toward Chris. ‘It sounds like maybe you’re my hero.’
Dulcie opened her mouth to object. Only a few hours before, Stella had been accusing him of sabotage and theft. She had been, Dulcie was quite sure, about to flee. But when she turned to Chris, she saw her boyfriend flush and stammer under the full force of the academic’s gaze.
‘It was nothing really.’ He turned toward her as she took the chair to his right. ‘I’m only sorry I didn’t think of it earlier.’
‘Wait a minute.’ Dulcie was willing to admit she’d rushed to judgment, but still she knew something was wrong. Tigger’s display had confirmed it. ‘Stella, what is going on? If – if …’ She wasn’t sure even how to phrase what she suspected, and so she backtracked to what Chris had explained moments before. ‘Tell us, why did Marco Tesla have a copy of your paper?’ Something wasn’t kosher.
‘Because I sent it to him.’ She said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. ‘An early draft. We were in the same field, you know, and I valued his feedback. That’s what couples do, you know.’ She turned to face Chris, a conspiratorial smile on her face. ‘When they can understand each other’s work, that is.’
‘But, but …’ Something was wrong. Very wrong, and for starters Dulcie didn’t like the way Stella Roebuck was leaning over toward Chris. ‘I thought you two were rivals.’
‘We were, after a fashion. As well as lovers.’ She smiled and shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand.’
‘I understand well enough how you operate.’ She stood, to find Chris standing also. ‘Chris, don’t …’ That would be too much. If he took this interloper’s side against her. If he …
‘Look!’ He was pointing over to the entrance. At the huge, hairy beast that had appeared at the door.
FORTY-NINE
For a moment, the kitten – the computer – all were forgotten, as the creature pushed open the door with its shaggy head and padded into the lobby. Big, too big for a wolf, even, it stepped slowly into the light, eyes glowing bright against the dark red fur. For a moment it paused, jaw opened slightly, as it took in the room. Those fangs, each the size of Dulcie’s hand, disappeared only briefly as a huge red tongue lapped over the black muzzle. Then it came forward again, unafraid of the humans before it. And with each step it seemed to shrink, its hairy bulk diminishing as it approached.
‘Come here, girl.’ Chris got down on his knee and held his hand out, palm up, toward the intruder.
‘What are you doing?’ Dulcie couldn’t help it. Maybe her imagination had gotten the better of her. Maybe this – this thing – had never been as large as her fears had made it. Still, the dog – if dog it was – had to be the same animal that had chased her through the Yard. And it was large, bigger than any dog Dulcie had ever seen, and its coat was such an odd rust red. ‘You,’ she yelled over to the guard. ‘Do something.’
‘I’m not animal control.’ The orderly must have thought she was talking to him. ‘Besides, I think it’s just tired.’
‘Tired?’ Dulcie turned to see the dog staring at her with large, yellow eyes. No longer glowing, they did indeed look tired. But as she watched, its great jaw opened once more. Teeth, curved and sharp if not quite so huge, and then a long, red tongue.
The dog – for now it was clear that the beast was a dog, simply a large dog, and not that large now that she had had a good look at it – was panting.
‘Not tired,’ Chris was saying. ‘It’s thirsty. She’s thirsty. Come here, girl.’
‘No wonder she’s thirsty,’ Dulcie said, half to herself. She’d been pretty winded by that run, too. But Chris wasn’t listening. Instead, he was reaching into his bag. Pulling out a bottle of water, he poured some into his cupped hand. The dog, for surely it was a dog, took one step closer and stopped.
‘Come on,’ said Chris, his voice soft and kind. ‘It’s okay, girl.’
The dog looked up at Dulcie, as if seeking her approval. Dulcie found herself
smiling at the animal, as if it could read a human face. Everyone else, even the kitten, she realized, had gone silent.
‘She’s afraid,’ said Chris. ‘Can everyone step back?’
Dulcie hesitated. ‘What if it has rabies?’ She looked at the gathered medical professionals and then at Chris. ‘What if it bites you?’
‘She won’t.’ Chris held his hand out further, but the movement seemed to spook the animal. It turned, as if to run, then paused. Still panting, it looked up at Dulcie and then again at Chris.
‘Hang on.’ Chris grabbed the bottle again. Cradling it against his body, he leaned forward while clasping his hands. Water sloshed out, spilling on to the floor, but also filling the larger cup made by his hands. Once the bottle had emptied he let it fall, and as it rolled away he once more extended his hands.
‘It’s okay.’ The big dog eyed the impromptu basin. ‘Here, look.’ Eyes on the dog, Chris brought his hands back in. He bent his face over his hands and paused. Dulcie looked at the dog, but the dog – instead of looking at Chris – only looked up at her. As if, she suddenly felt, it was waiting for something.
‘Come on.’ Chris extended his tongue and bent his head over his hands. ‘Like this.’
‘No!’ Dulcie couldn’t have said what made her yell, but she did. ‘No, Chris!’ She ran toward her boyfriend and pushed him, so that he fell on his side. Water splattered all over the floor. He stared up at her, confused, as once again the orderly moved in.
‘That’s enough, miss.’
‘No, wait.’ Chris righted himself. ‘The dog!’
She turned. They all did. A feral animal wasn’t to be ignored, especially one that size. Dulcie felt a moment of fear. If she had startled the animal … if she had scared it and it attacked …
But despite her own racing heart, the dog seemed unaffected by her outburst – or by the loss of its drink. If anything, the big beast seemed to be waiting. For a moment they all stayed silent as those huge yellow eyes took them in, moving from one to another as if to take their measure. They lingered longest on Dulcie and then, she was sure, it nodded. Then it turned silently on those big paws and made for the doors again.
‘Stop it!’ someone – one of the orderlies? – yelled. But nobody moved, and the big animal pushed against the glass door and slipped out, into the night.
FIFTY
‘Dulcie, what was that about?’ Chris was standing as she turned back to face him. His jeans were splattered with water and he looked concerned. ‘I thought you liked animals.’
‘It was the water, Chris.’ She didn’t know how to explain. ‘That bottle. Where did you get it?’
‘You asked me to bring it.’ He reached for the empty, which had rolled over by the wall. ‘I got your voicemail when I came out of the clean room and found it. I thought you wanted it.’
‘It’s poisoned.’ Dulcie thought back. ‘Didn’t you see my text?’
‘No, sorry.’ He looked down at the bottle in his hand, then back up at her. ‘Poison?’
‘You’re the one.’ Stella stepped forward. ‘You poisoned Marco, and then … then, you tried to implicate me.’
‘Wait, what?’ Chris looked from one woman to the other, clearly confused. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘How dare you!’ Stella’s voice went shrill, and she turned to the guard. ‘Arrest him. He’s been involved with this since the beginning. He has the bottle. He has my computer, too. Somewhere.’
‘I told you. It’s in the clean room,’ Chris was saying as the orderly came toward him with a menacing look. ‘Oh, come on.’
‘Wait, everybody.’ Dulcie stepped forward. ‘Someone, call Detective Rogovoy. He knows all the details.’
The orderly had Chris’s arm by now and stepped behind him, the more easily to get him into a full restraining hold. The guard, meanwhile, seemed unwilling to take matters into his own hands.
‘Please,’ Dulcie entreated. ‘Call him. Or I will.’ She took a step toward her own bag and saw everyone flinch. ‘I just want to get my phone,’ she explained.
Slowly, so as not to startle anyone, she reached into her bag and extracted her phone. All eyes were on her as she dialed.
‘Detective?’
Voicemail.
For a moment, she thought she could fake it. She thought she could leave a message and make it sound like she was holding a conversation. But one look at Stella, and she realized she wasn’t a good enough liar.
‘Okay, then.’ The orderly had Chris from behind and the guard was approaching. ‘No, wait.’ Dulcie stepped between them. ‘It’s her you want to arrest.’ She pointed at Stella. ‘Not Chris.’
‘You can’t take his word over mine.’ From the tone of Stella’s voice, such a choice would be unthinkable.
Only it wasn’t. ‘Yes, I can,’ said Dulcie. Time was slowing down. ‘And I do. You keep saying Paul Barnes is a cad, that he’s so jealous he would sabotage you. And I believed you, even though he’s been nothing but a gentleman to me. In fact, when I felt ill he went to get me a drink of water. Only the water fountains aren’t working on the first floor of the Science Center, so when he wanted to get me a drink of water he took the bottle out of your bag. Didn’t he?’
‘You’re crazy,’ Stella said, her voice so calm that it seemed only reasonable to believe her. She looked around. ‘Isn’t this a hospital? Isn’t there someone who can take care of this poor girl?’
The orderly looked from Stella to the doctor, waiting for a cue. The doctor opened her mouth and then closed it. Stella stepped into the gap.
‘What are you waiting for?’ she snapped. ‘The poor girl has clearly lost it.’
That was it. The dropped word – and Dulcie suddenly realized what she should have noticed all along. ‘Lost it?’ she asked Stella. ‘Lost it?’ Dulcie wasn’t much for drama, but she envisioned scorn dripping from her words like so much ice water. When she realized that her attempt at sarcasm was only drawing concerned looks from the assembled medical staff, she switched gears.
‘You’re the one who was saying you “lost it”,’ she said. ‘Meaning your famous paper, of course. Only you didn’t, did you?’
She’d gone too far. The doctor nodded at the orderly and he took a step toward her.
‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ Dulcie took a step back. Right into the considerable bulk of Detective Rogovoy.
‘I was on my way back here anyway.’ The large man put both hands on her shoulders to steady her. At least that’s what Dulcie hoped was his intent. She didn’t dare pull away – not yet. Not until she’d explained herself. Instead she looked up at him. To her great relief he smiled. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘I’m enjoying this.’
Swallowing hard, she turned. It helped that those big hands were on her shoulders as she turned to face her adversary.
‘You say I lost it. Well, maybe I have,’ she said. ‘But you didn’t. Not in that way. That paper you’ve had Chris looking for? The one you claimed Paul Barnes stole. Or, I don’t know … Professor Showalter? They didn’t. They couldn’t, because you never lost it.’
She paused for breath. Chris was looking at her. Everyone was, but he had an expression of confusion on his face. ‘I love you,’ she mouthed, as she silently willed him to wait. To believe in her. Then she continued, speaking once again to Stella Roebuck.
‘You never lost your great presentation, because you never had one. Not one of your own. Marco Tesla, your lover, was a late invite. I don’t know what you were thinking – that he wouldn’t know and that he wouldn’t find out. But you stole his work. And when he showed up, you realized you couldn’t present “your” work, because it was really his. You erased it. You hang out with so-called gearheads, so you know how. But to muddy the waters, you blamed Professor Showalter and Professor Barnes. You blamed anyone – even Chris. But somehow Marco found out about it. And you …’ She paused. The water bottle.
‘Detective Rogovoy?’ She looked back at him. He nodded. ‘Can you test that water bot
tle for drugs?’
‘The lab can,’ he said.
‘That’s not my bottle.’ The petite academic was sounding panicked. ‘You can’t prove it is.’
‘No, but I can prove that work on your computer came from Marco Tesla’s.’ Chris stepped forward. ‘And I’d swear in court that the paper was intentionally deleted by someone who had at least an hour to do so.’ He shrugged as he looked at Dulcie. ‘That’s not much, but it does mean someone didn’t sneak in while Kelly was doing her soundcheck. And that means that Dulcie is right: Stella Roebuck deleted her own paper.’
FIFTY-ONE
It was almost enough: Chris’s testimony, along with the ill-will generated by Stella Roebuck’s high-handed manner. Nobody wanted to come to her aid. Even Nancy’s eyes sank to the little cat in her arms as Stella looked around the room for support.
‘You’re crazy. All of you.’ Dulcie had to give it to her: Stella Roebuck could act. ‘You really think I’m some kind of criminal mastermind?’
‘I think you’re better with computers than you let on,’ said Dulcie. ‘And that you’d let Chris be blamed for what you did.’
‘You have a theory. That’s all.’ Stella was calming down. ‘That’s nothing. One girl’s theory.’
‘That’s not all.’ They all turned. Nancy was still looking at the floor, but it was her voice they had heard.
‘Nancy?’ Dulcie was thinking of Tigger, thinking of the kitten’s reaction when Stella had tried to leave. Tigger had known something. His outburst had to have meant … something. Out loud, however, she voiced the question on all their minds. ‘Would you tell us?’
‘The titles.’ Nancy seemed to choke on the word, then repeated it a little louder. ‘For the papers. It was my responsibility to gather the titles of all the papers that were being presented. For the conference program, you know.’