Grey Zone (27 page)

Trista threw, but only made the outer circle. ‘Damn. My eye is off.'

‘Tris?'

Trista threw again, this time getting closer to the bullseye. ‘It's –' thwock – ‘complicated.'

‘I cannot tell you how sick I am of complicated relationships.' Dulcie wasn't really thinking of what she was saying, but something about her words hit the black. Trista turned toward her friend.

‘You're right. It's not fair of me.' Trista looked past Dulcie, and Dulcie knew she was searching beyond the bar, toward their friends. ‘But it
is
complicated.'

Dulcie waited as Trista turned back toward the dartboard.

‘Jerry and I,' she said, throwing another dart. ‘We've been together for, like, two years now. And sometimes I feel like this is it.' Another dart. ‘I couldn't be happier. But recently, I don't know. I mean, this isn't permanent. We're going to be finishing up soon. I'm hoping to defend my thesis next year, and Jerry's going to be done sometime soon, too. And then what? We'll both be looking for post docs. For teaching positions. For –' another throw – ‘anything we can get.'

‘You're thinking of Rosemary and Gene.' Dulcie didn't need to say it. The entire department knew about Rosie and Gene. A couple since freshman week, they'd managed their graduate careers perfectly – until they defended their theses. Then Rosemary landed the tenure-track position of her dreams, teaching Shakespeare at McGill. And Gene had done the same, only at Vanderbilt. Within months, she was seeing another man, and he had rushed into a quickie marriage with a departmental secretary. That hadn't lasted either. ‘But it doesn't have to be like that, does it? I mean, Jerry and Chris, they don't have to stay in academia. They've got the skills. They can go into the private sector. Computer guys can work anywhere.'

‘Yeah,' said Trista as she walked up to retrieve her darts. ‘As long as they're willing to give up their dreams.'

‘Maybe we'll never finish our theses.' Dulcie meant it as a joke. It was only when Trista turned on her with a strange look that she realized how closely she was echoing Chelowski's words.

‘So, I just feel like maybe we should cool it. Like I should try to build in some distance.' Trista wasn't even trying to coach as Dulcie threw – and hit the wall. ‘But it's so hard, you know?'

‘Yeah.' Another miss. ‘At least he wants to be with you.'

‘You don't think Chris—' Trista turned toward her. ‘So is that what's been bothering you?'

‘It's a lot of things.' Dulcie shrugged. ‘I've also got some trouble with one of my students. And, well, I may be on the edge of something—' She was about to go on, to get Trista's feedback. But just then she heard another voice.

‘I think we know who the winner is.' It was Jerry, his voice tight with fake jollity. ‘Dulcie?'

She handed over her remaining darts. No matter what Trista said, this couple had a chance. They needed to talk.

And she needed some time with Dimitri. Walking back to the table, she saw him get up. ‘Beer run?'

‘Gents.' He smiled. ‘But then I really do need to run off. All this talk about deadlines, you know.'

‘I do.' She nodded. ‘But, please, would you stay a few minutes longer? I need to speak with you.'

He raised his eyebrows, and Dulcie was struck once again by how handsome the Russian was. Had he misunderstood her interest? Well, nothing for it, she decided, and hovered between the restrooms and the communal table until her colleague returned.

‘So, what is so important that you ambush me?' He was smiling. He had misunderstood.

‘It's about one of my students.' Now that she had him here, Dulcie wasn't sure how to ask.

‘Oh?' He doubted her.

‘Carrie Mines.' He blinked, and she went on. ‘One of my former students. Who you then ended up teaching. And, I believe, may have become close to.'

‘We are friends.' There was something there, she could tell. And he had admitted that much. ‘What is this about?'

‘She's in trouble. I know it.' Dulcie decided to just spill. ‘She's in hiding, and you're involved.'

‘It is true that I was questioned. You knew that, but that is all.'

‘Dimitri, it's time to spill the beans.'

He raised his eyebrows again, but this time Dulcie wasn't taken in. ‘Come on, you know the expression. It's time to tell me what's going on. For Carrie's sake, and, well, for yours too.' If he was in trouble, she would help him. Carrie was a pretty young thing, and maybe she'd come on to him, using her sexuality to win more attention from her young teacher. He was European. They were different.

‘I already told the police, this is not my secret.' He was looking away, and Dulcie felt a strong urge to grab his arm and shake him. If there was more going on here – if Dimitri was involved with Herschoft's murder – she needed to know.

‘Dimitri, look. Carrie is in trouble. Serious trouble.' She wouldn't talk about murder, not yet. That didn't seem to be common knowledge, and it might prove useful down the line. But she had another trump card to play. ‘She might even be in danger.'

‘But she was getting help.'

Bingo. ‘I know she was seeing a peer counselor. That's how I got involved.' She was stretching the point, but not by much. ‘But the counselor wouldn't tell me – no, she
couldn't
tell me – what was going on, and I have to respect that. But you can, Dimitri. And you've got to.' She paused. ‘For Carrie's sake.'

He sighed and rubbed his chin. ‘You're right. She is in deep. Over her head. I tried to talk with her, to help her. But she would not listen.' He shook his head, and Dulcie felt her throat tighten. This was worse than she'd feared. ‘I would not want her blood splattered all over the piazza. I mean, spattered.'

For a moment, Dulcie was taken aback. Then it came to her. ‘Oh, you were talking suicide.'

‘Well, yes, like that awful man. I am glad I missed it, for from what my friend tells me, his blood was probably spread about like—' He paused, searching for the word. ‘Like a jelly donut.'

Dulcie closed her eyes as a wave of nausea hit her. No, he hadn't seen Herschoft. But the image came back to her. ‘It wasn't like that.'

‘Oh? Because Lylah told me about a seminar, in which a living organism—'

‘Please, Dimitri. It wasn't like that at all.' An image of the blood – dark, framing the back of Herschoft's head – filled her vision. She needed to get Dimitri back on track. ‘But you've seen her? You've talked to her?'

‘No, not since—' He paused and swallowed. ‘But I tried. This is not right, I told her. Maybe I became too loud.'

‘You fought?'

He nodded. ‘I kept telling her: he hurts you with this.'

So it had been Dimitri she'd seen, that night under the arch. Only, he'd been urging Carrie to come forward. To speak out about someone else. ‘Who was “he,” Dimitri? Who was she involved with?'

‘That skeazy fellow. Is that the word? Skeazy?'

Dulcie nodded. He had it, more or less.

‘The one who is always hanging around her.'

Dulcie's stomach clenched. ‘You mean Merv, her ex-boyfriend?'

‘No, no. That professor of hers. The really skeazy – no,
sleazy
– one.'

Dulcie smiled. He'd got it right. ‘Norm Chelowski. I knew it.'

But Dimitri was shaking his head. ‘Not Chelowski. He creeps in a different way. No, her other professor. The one who was supposed to be helping her. The dead guy: Herschoft!'

THIRTY-EIGHT

‘
Y
ou look like you've seen a ghost.' Chris was at the table by the time Dulcie returned; Dimitri had grabbed his coat and left. ‘And not a particularly friendly one.'

‘What?' Dulcie could barely focus. Dimitri's words were still bouncing around her head. She'd suspected Herschoft of something inappropriate, but there had been too many loose ends.

‘That was Dimitri, right?' Chris was watching her. ‘Did you two have a fight or something?'

There was something in his voice that wasn't right. But her mind was spinning. Why was Carrie still in hiding? How was Corkie involved? There was too much going on for Dulcie to focus.

‘It's nothing.' Herschoft? Had all this led to his blood on the concrete? That dark, thick blood?

‘Should I be jealous?' Finally, Dulcie looked up. Her boyfriend was smiling, but not easily.

‘No, no. Really.' She smiled back and tried to put her heart in it. ‘Hey, you made it.'

‘Well, sort of.' He reached to kiss her, but their embrace was cut short as he turned to decline a mug.

‘I can't hang,' he explained to Molly. ‘With midterms over, everybody is behind in their semester projects.' He sounded genuinely sad. Dulcie knew about deadlines, she did. It was just that she'd been hoping.

She nodded and tried to look supportive as Chris kept talking, turning to her. ‘Plus, a few of the guys did cover for me when you were in the infirmary.'

He continued, saying something about how he was really on an extended break. But Dulcie found her mind wandering. If Herschoft really had been taking advantage of Carrie, then Chelowski was in the clear. But the evidence against Corkie was piling up. As difficult as it was to see her student as a murderer, Dulcie now understood how it could have happened. That had been Carrie, upset, talking to Corkie. What had she said? That she couldn't end it? Had Corkie then raced over to confront Herschoft – and killed him?

Maybe he deserved it. Maybe Corkie was justified. And maybe that justified anger gave her enough strength to throw a full-grown man out the window. Dulcie's head was swimming. And through it all, she kept on thinking about what else Dimitri had said – something about a jelly donut. The body, the blood . . .

‘Dulce?' Dulcie looked around. Her friends were all staring. ‘Are you OK?'

‘Yeah, I'm sorry.' She tried to conjure a smile for Chris. ‘I'm just thinking.' That pale, still hand.

‘Oh, good.' He looked relieved. ‘I've been afraid that you were mad at me,' he said. ‘You know, because I've been working through dinner and all.'

Did ‘and all' include a certain red-haired student? Remembering Trista's words, Dulcie roused herself from her thoughts and looked over toward her friend. She was laughing now, chiming in as Lloyd began a story. But Jerry was still looking at her with a vague, lost expression on his face. Well, if Dulcie was right, the university had bigger problems to deal with now.

‘So, I wanted to make the effort. You know, show you that I'm still here.' Chris sounded like he was miles away. ‘But I guess I should get back to the old grind.'

He stood, and Dulcie turned to him, wondering if she could explain about the body. About Carrie. And just then the pub door opened and a different tall redhead walked in.

‘Merv!' She almost shouted as she stood and waved. ‘Over here.' She had so many questions for him.

‘All right then.' Chris looked from Dulcie toward the door, where Merv was smiling back. ‘I guess I'll call you, Dulcie.' And he left.

But if Dulcie thought the new arrival would be able to answer all her questions, she was wrong.

‘No, no way.' Merv was adamant. ‘There's no way Carrie was involved with Herschoft.'

Dulcie had made the requisite introductions, pointedly ignoring Trista's questioning look, and as soon as she could, had started questioning her new friend.

‘Not “involved,” exactly.' Dulcie was trying to keep her voice low. Even with the jukebox, she felt the need to be careful. ‘We're talking harassment. It's abuse. From what I've been reading, it's about power. About domination. Usually, it's not even really sexual.'

‘No.' Merv seemed to have no such compunction, and Dulcie was aware of her colleagues looking over at them. ‘There's just no way.'

‘Merv, please.' Dulcie wanted to be graceful, but she had to cut through his denial. ‘I know you cared about her. You must have thought the world of her, and nobody wants to think of a friend as a victim.'

He shook his head, cutting her off. ‘You don't understand. I loved her. And, yes, I was bitter, but if someone was hurting Carrie. If someone was forcing her—' He stopped, his mouth set in a thin line.

Dulcie looked at him. He was skinny, sure. But he was tall, and she knew from her time with Chris how muscular long, lean men could be. ‘Merv?' Now she really felt unsure how to proceed. ‘The day that Herschoft died, were you there?'

‘What? No.' He laughed and shook his head. ‘No, I was in the lab. And, yes, I'm sure I can come up with at least a dozen people who can vouch for me. We had to put down a dozen rats because someone had screwed up a drug regimen, and I am afraid I didn't keep my opinions to myself.'

‘Well, that's a relief.' Dulcie didn't realize until she said it how little she wanted her new friend to be involved. ‘But, oh hell, that means you can't tell me who else
might
have been there.'

‘Sorry, that's kind of impossible anyway. The whole building is a security nightmare.'

She looked at him quizzically. ‘But there's a guard.'

‘At the front, yeah. But you can leave through the back. The door pushes open. It's supposed to lock, but people leave it propped open all the time. Plus, if someone is coming out, they'll hold it for you.'

‘He will – or she.' It was automatic. Years of training causing her to speak without thinking as her last best hope faded away. She knew that door; she'd used it herself. And Merv hadn't been there. He wasn't a suspect, but he also couldn't help alibi Corkie.

‘But this is all really silly anyway.' Merv hadn't seemed to notice her correction. ‘Because there is just no way that Carrie was involved with someone against her will. Look, Dulcie, I know you think there was something funny going on, but believe me. I'm the last person who wanted Carrie to fall for someone else. But she did. She was in love. And she was happier than I'd ever seen her.'