Grey Dawn (29 page)

‘Nonsense.' The voice on the other end sounded warm and encouraging. ‘I'm only sorry it has taken me this long to respond. What's on your mind?'

‘Well, I don't know if you remember. When you were first here, at the bar …' There was nothing to do but ask. ‘You said that you had some information for me. Something that might be of interest? And then we never got to talk.'

‘Of course. You're writing on the
author of
The Ravages
.' Dulcie nodded before realizing that the professor couldn't see her. But no response was necessary, it seemed, as the professor kept talking. ‘I don't know if it exactly relates. In fact, it may be a wild goose chase, but recently I've come into possession of some papers. A colleague of mine who works at a private collection in Philadelphia came across the most interesting material.'

‘Pages from a manuscript?' Dulcie couldn't help interrupting. If Showalter had the rest of the manuscript. If she were willing to share … She stopped short, remembering her earlier fears. Well, if the senior scholar had made a discovery, Dulcie would be willing to help her. ‘If you're looking for a grad student to assist you …'

‘No, you've misunderstood me.' Dulcie's heart sank. The scholar was simply notifying her. ‘That's not what I meant. These papers are only tangential to my area of interest.' The professor kept talking. ‘But when I read your article, I thought they could be useful to you.'

Dulcie stopped short, unable to believe what she was hearing. ‘You mean I can have them?'

‘Well, yes, if you're interested.' The professor was saying. ‘I believe you may already have seen some of them. My friend, the curator in Philly, says part of this grouping may have already been given to the Mildon, and it sounds like it could be related to the work you've been doing. She sent them to me to appraise, as
the collection is looking to deaccession more of their uncatalogued papers, and I know she would appreciate them going to a working scholar.'

‘Wow, could you mail them?' Dulcie bit her lip. These papers were valuable. ‘I mean, or have them shipped? I'm sure I could cover—'

‘No, I don't think so.' Of course, these papers were valuable. ‘You see, there are some complications.'

She knew it. Nothing could be that simple. Even so, these papers could be worth whatever condition the professor put on them.

‘There has been some other interest, you see. I had brought some notes with me. They were lost, I'm afraid, when my bag was grabbed. But I still have the pages themselves.' She paused, as if making a decision, and Dulcie held her breath. ‘You should have a chance to see them. I'll bring them when I come for the rescheduled Newman,' Showalter was saying. ‘Oh, and Ms Schwartz? They appear to contain some genealogical material. I think you'll be intrigued.'

Well, that was interesting. Dulcie started walking again as soon as she and the professor had signed off. Other interest? Could that have been what Dulcie had overheard at the health services? And what about those notes? A tingle went up Dulcie's spine, like the brush of soft fur. The professor's bag had been taken on her way to the lecture. Maybe it hadn't been a mugging, but a desperate attempt to get her research material. If those pages had been the reason for the attack, then Showalter could be in danger. Dulcie should call her back. Warn her to take extra care.

Only she did want those papers. Genealogical information wasn't manuscript pages, but in a way, it could be better. For so long Dulcie had been trying to put a name to the anonymous author, to give her her rightful place in history. Dulcie crossed into the Common, trying to picture what those pages could be. A birth certificate? Not likely. Wherever her author had ended up, odds were that she was born in London. And how common were birth certificates anyway? Odds were it wasn't something less official. A church registry, perhaps. A notice of a birth or a marriage.

Except that her author didn't believe in marriage. Dulcie stopped short. No, she didn't know that. What she did know was that in her writings – especially the writing Dulcie had found from her later years, in the New World – her author had spoken disparagingly of marriage. She walked on, through the leafless trees. Maybe she had been married to someone she hated. Maybe she'd been happily widowed. Maybe she'd fled—

Josh. There, ahead of her. Dulcie had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she'd nearly walked into him, and now there he was, waving.

‘Dulcie! I was hoping to run into you.'

‘Josh?' Dulcie swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Was he stalking her? It couldn't simply be coincidence, running into him here, in the Common, where Professor Showalter had been attacked. Could he think she had those papers – whatever they were? ‘What – what brings you here?'

‘I was up at the Quad.' He said. It was believable; the Common was on the way. ‘I've been doing some reading on this author that Mina's into. I didn't realize you were writing your thesis on her.'

Dulcie blanched. He was stalking her. ‘You know?'

‘I read that article. I made a copy, too. It's not exactly Mina's area of expertise, but the timing is right. I told you about this woman she's trying to trace? So I thought it might interest her.'

It might indeed, especially if the subject of Mina's study was … No, that was too much of a reach. Besides, the woman she'd been hearing about wouldn't be interested in the author of
The Ravages
. Dulcie felt herself relaxing. ‘It's probably not theoretical enough for Mina,' she said. He looked at her blankly. ‘Nothing about the semiotics of the assumed gender roles,' she explained.

‘What? No.' Josh responded, shaking his head. ‘That's not – Mina's into connections and relativity when it comes to books and authors. Not that abstract stuff.'

Dulcie opened her mouth – then shut it. Clearly he saw his girlfriend – ex-girlfriend? – in a different light than her best friend did. At any rate, he had moved on.

‘But that's not the big news. I'm going to visit Mina.' He was saying. His cheeks were glowing, though with the cold or the excitement, Dulcie couldn't say. ‘She's – well, she seems to be waking up.'

‘She's conscious?' That would solve quite a few problems.

But Josh was shaking his head. ‘No, she's sort of talking though. Moving around. It's like she's in a dream. The doctors say …' Now he seemed to have trouble talking. She watched him swallow, twice. ‘The doctors say that maybe this is the best she'll be. But I know her, and, well, I think she's trying, Dulcie. I think she's trying very hard to wake up.'

‘And you're going back to see her?' Dulcie didn't know if that was a good idea. ‘They're allowing visitors?'

He shook his head. ‘Well, no, not yet. But I'm going to, Dulcie. They can't keep me away from her. They have no right.'

Maybe it was love – or maybe that's what he told himself. Something about his words, however, chilled Dulcie even more than the wind.

D
ulcie wasn't even sure what she said. Something about ‘good news' and ‘good luck.' All she knew was that she had to get away from the red-cheeked junior as quickly as possible. The only saving grace was what Raleigh had told her: no visitors were being allowed in. The further from the Common Dulcie got, the more she relaxed. Josh couldn't get to the girl. The health services knew she'd been attacked; they'd protect her. And once she had seen Thorpe – and secured the kitten – then she would go back to Rogovoy. She'd call him after hours, if she had to. And then warn Showalter as well. Those papers could be some kind of a time bomb.

First, however, she had a mission. Turning onto Broadway, she lengthened her stride. If Thorpe wasn't there, she could ask Nancy for his home address. Nancy would understand that Dulcie needed to talk to her adviser; she wouldn't have to explain. Although maybe she would tell the kindly secretary about Showalter's news, about how she had a possible breakthrough for Dulcie. Nancy would understand how excited she was to work with a scholar who understood her enthusiasm for this author.

Dulcie slowed as she thought it through. No, she couldn't tell Nancy, not about all of it, anyway. Certainly not about her hunch that Showalter's notes might have been the real motive of the attack. Nancy might not like Martin Thorpe; Dulcie knew that the acting head was an extremely difficult boss. She was loyal, however. Especially since she now saw Martin Thorpe as needing support.

It wasn't like Dulcie was intentionally undermining Thorpe. There would be benefits to her if he kept his job, and for better or worse she had managed to get along with him. Just because she wanted to work with a visiting scholar and had a wild theory as to why that scholar had been attacked. Just because she wanted to take her adviser's new pet away on the possibility that he was some kind of horrible monster. Like she had thought Josh might be, only moments before.

Her walk had slowed almost to a stop. She was being as bad as Lucy. Superstitious and illogical. If Josh had attacked Mina and, thus probably, Emily, then Thorpe was innocent. If Josh hadn't attacked Mina and Emily, and the notes were the reason Showalter had been jumped, then Thorpe was certainly suspect – but then how had the other two young women been involved? What evidence did she even have linking them?

None. She started walking again. If it wasn't Josh, then there was really very little she could do. But if she could get the kitten from Thorpe, just for safe keeping, and talk to Rogovoy, well, then maybe everything would sort itself out. At the very least, Dulcie would know that she had tried.

If Josh, then Thorpe … the possibilities started playing themselves out like one of Chris's equations. But if Thorpe, then … No, there were too many variables, including Professor Showalter. If only Mina would wake up and put an end to all the speculation. Dulcie heard herself and laughed: so now she was only hoping for the junior's recovery in order to put her own mind at ease? Maybe Nancy was right, and she was becoming more selfish. Did Nancy know more than she was letting on? Did Josh?

So deep in thought was she that when her phone rang again, Dulcie almost didn't hear it.

‘Emily!' The junior had barely said hello when Dulcie jumped in. ‘I've heard the news. That's so great.'

‘Wait, what?' The voice on the other end was so surprised, Dulcie could have laughed. It was nice to be able to share good news for a change.

‘Mina's responding! That's what …' She stopped herself. Whatever Josh's involvement was, his girlfriend's room-mate certainly blamed him. ‘That's what I heard, anyway. She's not awake, but she's beginning to respond to stimuli and the doctors are hoping she'll wake up soon.'

‘Oh, that's great.' Emily gushed, then got quieter. ‘I wonder why they didn't tell me that?'

Dulcie felt for her. ‘Maybe it happened after you left?'

‘Maybe.' The silence felt awkward. Emily must have thought so, too. ‘That is great, though. Thanks for telling me.'

‘So how can I help you?' Dulcie couldn't stop smiling. ‘I mean, besides giving you some good news for a change.'

‘Oh, I was going to ask about the papers. But, well, if Mina's waking up, maybe it doesn't matter.'

That didn't make much sense to Dulcie. Then again, the term was winding up – and her news had probably been overwhelming.

‘Are you sure? 'Cause I have—' But Emily had hung up.

Poor girl. She'd been through so much, she really needn't worry about her class work. Dulcie knew she should call back, reassure Emily that she could make up any missed assignments – and she would. But Dulcie had arrived at the departmental office and other priorities were pressing. Get the kitten, get out. Especially if Mina was on the verge of waking up, Dulcie didn't need to accuse anyone of anything. She only needed to ensure one small creature's safety. That was all.

‘Hi, Nancy.' Dulcie stuck her head into the side room to see the secretary at her desk.

‘Hello, Dulcie. Mr Thorpe is in his office. With his new charge.' Nancy was smiling, her voice soft. She must think that I had something to do with bringing the kitten over, Dulcie thought. And here I am, planning on taking him away.

Nothing for it. Dulcie climbed the stairs. ‘Mr Thorpe?' The door was ajar, but she knocked anyway.

‘Come in.' She entered to face an empty desk. And yet, his voice …

‘Over here.' Her adviser was in the corner, squatting beside a cardboard box. With a sinking feeling, Dulcie joined him. Inside the box, sat the marmalade kitten, unharmed. In the sun that now streamed through the window, she could see the pale stripes in his orange fur and his round blue eyes as he stared up at Thorpe.

‘Isn't he a cute little fellow?' Her adviser extended a finger, and the little cat batted at it. ‘Feisty, too. I was going to take him straight home but then I thought maybe he'd be lonely. In a new place and all that.'

Dulcie watched her adviser with a sinking feeling. Seeing him like this, wiggling his finger to entice the kitten, he looked almost human. She looked up. The moon wasn't visible from the office window. That didn't mean, in a few hours, when he left, that he wouldn't feel its effects.

‘About that kitten, Mr Thorpe.' Her mouth was dry, and she paused.

‘Oh, yes.' He looked up at her. ‘I meant to thank you. Raleigh told me that you rescued him from an alley.' He turned back to the little creature. ‘That must have been horrible for this little fellow. When I think of what could have happened to him …'

That was it. She had to think of what could happen to the kitten. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Dulcie broke in.

‘That's just it, Mr Thorpe. He was lost, and we found him. But – ah – we may have been over hasty in bringing him to you. He may have people. People who love him and have been looking for him.'