True Grey (27 page)

Something must have been wrong with his phone, however, or with her voicemail. ‘Dulcie, it's Lloyd.' That was the extent of the first message, before the call ended. The second, from the same phone, was a blank. On the third, she heard two voices, a woman's she didn't recognize and a man's that was vaguely familiar. She heard something falling – books? Papers? There was a thud, and once again, the call cut off. He must have dialed her by accident, she decided, at least after the first try.

With a free conscience, she dialed Trista.

‘Hey, Tris.' The message had only said to call, but Dulcie was optimistic. ‘What's up? Did you find anything?'

‘Did I ever! Dulce, we've got to talk. I'm not sure what to do about it, just yet, but all information is useful, right?'

That didn't sound quite as good as Dulcie had hoped. Still it was better than nothing. ‘Right,' she said, her own voice sounding a little too tentative. She looked around for some privacy. University Hall wasn't her favorite place, but at this time of day, even the dean must have gone home. Sheltering against the side of the white stone steps, she lowered her voice. ‘Can you tell me what's up, Tris? I mean, it sounds urgent.'

‘It is.' From the street noise in the background, Dulcie figured that Trista was walking – perhaps through the Square. ‘But I don't know if we should talk on the phone. Can you meet me?'

Dulcie hesitated. She should go home. Chris would be expecting her soon, and now that she'd gathered the courage for that confrontation she was loath to put it off.

‘Just for a few minutes?' Trista must have read her silence accurately. ‘Where are you? I'm on JFK.'

Dulcie told her, and they agreed to meet at the Starbucks. It was only a slight detour. ‘But I can't stay,' she said.

‘That's OK, Dulcie. This is important. I mean, girl, you've got enemies.'

‘Enemies?' It wasn't anything she didn't know. Still, to hear it confirmed made her stomach clench up. ‘Tris, tell me, please.'

‘Meet me.' The line went dead. Dulcie leaned back against the cool stone and closed her eyes. Rogovoy had warned her. She herself had her suspicions. Maybe this was good. She'd find out who her enemy was at last. ‘Enemies,' she corrected herself. ‘Plural.'

‘Excuse me? Ms Schwartz?' She opened her eyes to find herself facing two cops. Dressed in the dark blue uniform of the City of Cambridge, the one addressing her was clean cut and stern. It was the cop from her interview with Rogovoy. Beside him stood a woman in the same uniform. She was holding, of all things, an oversized flashlight and a Manila envelope.

‘We need you to come with us,' the male cop said.

‘But, wait.' She had to meet Trista. She needed to go home. ‘I've already spoken with you – and with Detective Rogovoy.'

The two cops looked at each other. The woman raised the folder, but almost imperceptibly her partner shook his head. ‘Come along,' he said. ‘We can talk at the station.'

‘What's . . .?' She reached out for the folder, and the other cop jerked it away. As she did, the top flipped open. It was only for a split second, but it was long enough for Dulcie to see white paper, with typing on it. At its top: a coffee stain like a brand. The manuscript page from her desk was now evidence against her.

L
loyd must have been calling to alert her, she realized as she walked between the two officers. He must have wanted to warn her; maybe he saw what they had found and was hoping to give her a head's up. Unless, she thought, he had been the one to call them in. In which case, why phone? Guilty conscience?

It was all too complicated to sort out. At least, by herself.

‘Excuse me?' she said to the female cop. ‘I need to call my room-mate. Do you mind?' The woman had considered showing her the paper, she figured. She was sympathetic. Once again, however, the cop looked at his partner, and he shook his head.

‘Sorry.' The officer sounded regretful, at least. ‘Once we're at the station.'

She continued walking, phone in hand, when it hit her: she had Suze on speed dial. The phone was turned on. Feeling the keyboard carefully, she hit ‘three'. At least, she hoped it was three – she really didn't need to have Lucy hear what was going on.

‘Legal Defense.' The voice was soft, muted against Dulcie's palm, and she cleared her throat to cover it. Neither cop seemed to notice.

‘I would like to know,' she said loudly, ‘why I am being taken to the Cambridge Police Station. I believe it is my right to be told.'

‘Dulcie!' She could hear Suze's voice before she hung up. ‘I'm on my way.'

The male cop gave her a dirty look. ‘I said you'd get your chance.' His partner smiled as she opened the cruiser door.

During the short drive, Dulcie's mind raced. This was more than someone just trying to get out from under a cloud, or help out a friend with a dodgy favor. This was a concerted attack. Not only had someone planted that page – both those pages, she admitted silently – but someone had also dropped a dime about where to find them.

That didn't clear Lloyd, she realized as the cruiser made its way toward Central Square. He might have reached out to her because the cops had shown up, asking which was her desk. Or it could mean that he knew something was wrong. Maybe Rafe had asked him to give her those pages, and he had done so, not knowing what they meant. Maybe . . . It was useless, Dulcie realized as the car pulled into a marked spot. As much as she wanted to trust Lloyd, to believe that he hadn't helped land her in this mess, the truth was that she knew very little of what had happened, and she understood even less.

What she did know for sure was that she was in trouble. And although she had no idea what a cat, even one on the spectral plain, could do for her in this situation, she found herself looking around as the female officer escorted her out of the cruiser. ‘Mr Grey?' she whispered to the air. ‘Any ideas?'

The female cop turned toward her, but Dulcie shook her head. Instead, his name on her lips, she glanced into the shadowy corners of the alley as the two officers walked her up to the forbidding stone building. ‘Mr Grey?' Could it be that she imagined the breeze, soft as the touch of fur, that brushed her face as they made for the front door? Was there something in the small dust devil that rose up in the corner by the door, something with green eyes, perhaps?

Newly heartened, Dulcie prepared herself for the confrontation to come. She would, she decided, tell the police everything. Suze had advised her to come clean about the first page, and such a disclosure had to be better late than never, or so she hoped. Besides, if she explained about the first page showing up, stuck to her notepad, she could tell the cops her theory about Rafe. She knew he was a friend of Lloyd's, but really, as the dead girl's ex, as well as a potential academic rival, he had every reason to be put through the same scrutiny that she was. And if he had set her up, well, that only made him worse.

She wouldn't feel good telling tales about Rafe. For all she knew, he might be innocent. But someone wasn't, and whoever it wasn't, wasn't her. She paused for a moment, the syntax getting the better of her. But as the female cop turned to face her, she started moving again. Murmuring her question to the air – ‘Isn't that right, Mr Grey?' – she allowed herself to be herded into the building.

Unlike its university counterpart, the city police HQ had nothing of the quiet office about it. Although the same dull fluorescent lighting illuminated a similar set up, with a tall wooden barrier serving as some kind of counter in a large reception area, everything else looked different. Older, grimier, from the stained linoleum to the three grey-haired men who sat on the reception benches, staring into space. But if she didn't see any trace of her beloved pet, Dulcie did catch sight of another face that was equally, if not more, welcome.

‘Suze!' She jumped up and waved, causing both her escorts to whirl around. ‘Over here.'

‘You'll see your friend in a minute,' said the woman cop, in a not unkindly voice. Taking Dulcie's elbow, she walked her over to that wooden counter, and Suze disappeared behind a closed door. ‘Let's get you signed in first.'

‘She's not just my friend,' Dulcie couldn't help bragging. With Suze here, she was sure that everything would soon be straightened out. ‘She's a lawyer.'

It took another forty minutes, however, before even her old room-mate could get to her. In the meantime, she was escorted through a glass-fronted door and down a long corridor badly lit by flickering fluorescents.

‘Where are we going?' Dulcie wasn't too worried, not with Suze in the building. Her room-mate had seen her, hadn't she? Besides, she was getting hungry. Chris would be waiting for her, wondering where she was. ‘When will I get my phone call?'

‘Just a bit longer,' her escort said, though in answer to which question, Dulcie couldn't tell. ‘Around here, please.' With her hand on Dulcie's elbow, she maneuvered her around a corner and toward an open door. ‘Have a seat.'

Dulcie stepped into the doorway, then jerked back. ‘Hey, wait.' She craned her neck down the corridor at a familiar sun-bleached mop. ‘Andrew?'

He was gone, and the officer was losing patience. ‘Ms Schwartz, please take a seat.'

‘I know him,' Dulcie started to explain, as the cop nodded to an armless chair. ‘He's one of my students. I don't understand—'

Then, suddenly, she did. Thalia had been trying to tell her, to warn her, when she visited. Thalia had said that her friend – Andrew – was involved in something that made her uncomfortable. Could that something have been planting evidence on her, in her office desk drawer? She pictured him at the house tea; he'd been pretty chummy with Rafe there. Would he be willing to do the tutor's dirty work? It almost made sense, but why?

And why wouldn't Lloyd have said something if the handsome undergraduate had dropped by? Lloyd was friendly with the senior tutor, but as far as Dulcie knew, he didn't know Andrew at all. Dulcie shook her head, more confused than ever.

Before she could puzzle it out, however, the door jerked open and Suze stormed in like a fury. ‘Dulcie! Are you OK?'

‘Suze!' Dulcie couldn't help smiling. ‘Thank the goddess, you found me.'

Suze stepped aside to let in a faded middle-aged woman in a lumpy suit holding an equally lumpy canvas briefcase.

‘This is my boss,' Suze whispered to Dulcie, pulling up the extra chair. ‘I figured it would help to have someone who is actually licensed to practice in the state.'

‘Thanks, Suze.' Dulcie looked up at the older woman, who was talking to the police woman in the doorway. ‘I'm sorry to be such a bother.'

‘Hey, it's part of my practicum.' Suze didn't seem at all put out. ‘We agreed on the way over. I'll handle everything, and she'll sign off. It's great that I get real-world experience. In a way,' she paused when she saw the look on Dulcie's face, ‘you're helping me out.'

‘You really are a great friend, you know.' Dulcie had to give her that. ‘So, what happens now?'

Suze looked up at her boss. ‘Now we figure out what's going on. If you're simply here to be questioned, then you can leave. If they're going to press charges, well, then . . .' She paused and looked at her friend. Dulcie knew she'd gone pale, and Suze continued with more enthusiasm in her voice. ‘If that's the case, then we tackle that.'

‘Burn that bridge when we come to it?' Dulcie tried to conjure a smile.

‘Exactly.' Suze patted her hand. ‘Don't worry, if you can help it, Dulcie. I really don't think that's what's going on here. I mean, they didn't say anything to you about being arrested, right?'

Dulcie nodded – then quickly shook her head, and Suze, smiling, went on. ‘And they didn't Mirandize you?' Another shake.

‘They're just bluffing then.' Suze sounded so confident, Dulcie looked to her for more. ‘Some of it is the usual town-gown tension,' her old friend continued. ‘You know, they think the university is soft on its own. They think college cops, like your buddy Rogovoy, can't solve anything. And now that they've gotten their hands on a murder case—'

Dulcie put her hand up. ‘Suze, please.' Her friend blinked, and Dulcie realized that she must look as green as she felt.

‘I'm sorry,' Suze leaned in. ‘I got carried away. There really isn't any reason to be scared.' She tried a smile, but Dulcie knew her too well. ‘Elizabeth is the best there is,' she said finally.

They both looked up. Suze's boss was still talking, but as they watched, she turned and walked away. The cop remained.

‘There's a lot of paperwork,' said Suze, sounding so blasé that Dulcie almost believed her. She had, however, brought up something Dulcie had wanted to discuss.

‘Speaking of paperwork . . .' Now it was her turn to lean in toward her friend. ‘They found another of those pages in my desk. I think maybe I know how it got there, and the page in my bag, too.' She looked up. The cop was still in the doorway, but staring across the hall. Dulcie dropped her voice further. ‘One of my students, Andrew Geisner, is here, too. I don't know what's up with him, but he was one of the bunch talking to Rafe Hutchins the other night.'

‘Who's that?'

‘Rafe Hutchins, senior tutor in Dardley.' Dulcie mused on the connection. ‘And Andrew's working for the dean. I'm wondering if the dean is investigating this independently. If he has someone down here to report back to him. But why? I know he wants this solved, and he's already got me on probation . . .'

Suze's voice was gentle as she took her friend's hand.

‘Dulcie, I don't know what to tell you,' she said. ‘From everything you've told me, it just sounds like this dean is out to get you. And it would be a lot easier to expel you if you were facing a charge of murder.'