Authors: Clea Simon
‘Tim’s
brother
?’ Amazing what registered.
‘Yes, but he’s a law student.’ And I think he’s already taken. Dulcie bit back the words. ‘You should also tell him about the strange phone calls. He can probably put you on the right path to having those traced.’
‘Well, maybe for the legal advice.’ Why was she hesitating? Whatever it was, it soon passed. ‘Thanks, Dulcie. I knew you’d be able to help me. You’re so smart!’
Dulcie smiled. The faithful attendant. ‘We have all got to have something going for us, right? And maybe the phone calls don’t mean anything.’
‘Maybe.’ Luisa sounded calmer. ‘I just hope they’re not from Bruce.’
‘Me, too,’ said Dulcie, signing off. At this point, she’d rather think of him as a callow cad than a heartbroken nice guy, stuck with this ditz; or, for that matter, as a killer.
Could Bruce have been faking it? Dulcie climbed back up the stairs, trying to remember every word and gesture from that awful dinner. Had he really been smitten with Luisa, or had it all been an act? Maybe he’d arranged for the three of them to meet so he could show off his ‘devotion’, when he had really known about Tim all along – and stabbed his rival to death in Dulcie’s apartment. Dulcie shuddered and clutched her frayed bathrobe closer. Fighting an urge to run down and double check the doors, she made her way to the bathroom.
‘I locked the door. I always lock the door,’ she said to her own reflection above the sink. Then she looked down. Her toothbrush was on the floor.
‘What are you trying to say to me, Mr Grey?’ Dulcie stared at the upended toothbrush for a moment before picking it up. ‘Are you trying to warn me about Luisa? I really think she’s more innocent than dangerous. But I’ll be careful.’ She washed off the brush. The smear of toothpaste on the bath mat was going to be a little harder to get out. ‘Or was this just some paranormal prank, letting me know you’re still my cat?’ She held the sticky part of the mat under the faucet and left it hanging over the edge of the tub to dry.
‘Is it something else?’ Pulling her robe belt tight for courage, Dulcie went back downstairs, turning on every light as she checked the door and windows. ‘Not that anyone would want to climb up the fire escape,’ she muttered. This was getting silly. Maybe the brush hadn’t even been a sign of her dear departed cat. Maybe it had simply fallen, dislodged by her heavy tread on the stairs or . . . well, by something. Dulcie couldn’t think of a good reason for a toothbrush to go flying. But if she really put her mind to it, she couldn’t think of a good reason for the ghost of her pet to come to her either. When was the last time she had ‘seen’ Mr Grey anyway? Had those earlier apparitions been the result of shock, some kind of temporary derangement caused by finding her room-mate dead and bloody on the living room floor?
As disgusting as the memory was, she chuckled. Of course, that was it. She’d taken enough psych courses – and she’d read enough ghost stories to provide the basics. Her overstimulated mind had done the rest. Speaking of rest . . . turning out the living room light one more time, she headed toward the stairs, just in time to hear the phone ring.
‘At this hour?’ She turned toward the phone. ‘If it’s Luisa again, I’m going to give her a piece of my mind.’ Dulcie lifted the receiver.
‘Hello?
Hello
?’
She heard breathing and waited for a voice. Then a click – and nothing more.
Nineteen
Sleep should have been impossible. But either fatigue got the better of her, or the sense that the spirit of Mr Grey was still hanging around the apartment eventually lulled Dulcie into a deep and dreamless slumber. Much to her surprise, she woke refreshed, even before the alarm clock had a chance to break into its annoying buzz.
One cup of coffee later, she realized she had time for a phone call.
‘Luke? Hi, it’s Dulcie. Dulcie Schwartz.’ It wasn’t that she was feeling possessive, Dulcie told herself. If she were, she’d be stalking Stacia. ‘I thought I should let you know what happened with Priority.’
‘Dulcie! Great to hear from you, whatever the reason. What’s happening? You ready to sue?’ He yawned, and Dulcie looked at the clock. Not even eight. She should’ve waited and called him at the clinic.
‘Nope. I didn’t even need to threaten them.’ She told him what had happened the day before, and he sounded honestly pleased. Of course, he had called it: Priority had no legal right either to fire her or detain her. ‘So, well, I hope you didn’t feel like I wasted your time.’
‘Not at all.’ From the sound of water running in the background, Dulcie assumed he was either making coffee or running a bath. To keep herself from thinking of him nude, she carried on talking.
‘And I haven’t heard anything from the Cambridge police. I mean, they haven’t called me in for questioning again. So that’s got to be good, doesn’t it?’ She paused for air and the implications of what she’d said hit her. ‘I mean, I really hope they find whoever did it.’
‘Yeah.’ She heard a sigh. ‘I don’t know if they ever will. We haven’t heard anything.’ Another pause. Maybe she’d gone too far. But, no, it wasn’t her. ‘I haven’t, I mean. I’m the only one pursuing it. My folks are acting like it was just an unpleasant accident that they’d rather forget. Makes me wonder if they are capable of loving anyone.’
‘I’m sure if anything happened to you—’ Dulcie didn’t like defending the Worthingtons, but she wanted to offer comfort to the man on the phone.
‘Yeah, they’d care. But that’s just because I’m the “good” son; the one they can trust to carry on the family name.’ There wasn’t any response to that, but Luke didn’t seem to expect one. ‘Which reminds me; I should really come by and finish cleaning out Tim’s room. It’s not fair for you to be left with his junk.’
‘That’s all right, really. It’s not like I’m going to sublet it again for just a month.’ A thought struck her. ‘But, Luke, if you’re going to come by, would you remember to bring Tim’s laptop?’
‘Sure. You still thinking my baby bro gave you some kind of virus?’
‘I don’t know.’ She thought about Tim being inside her personal space and shuddered. ‘There’s something funky going on with my laptop. I was making some notes for my thesis the other night and, well, something weird happened.’ Dulcie felt oddly reticent about telling Luke about Mr Grey. Maybe he’d think she was too girlish or sentimental. ‘Anyway, I’m pretty sure Tim was using it.’
‘Sounds like Tim, I’m afraid. Have you talked to Stacia yet?’
Maybe they hadn’t been spending much time together. ‘No, I have another friend who understands operating systems. I thought it would help if we could trace the bug.’
‘Makes sense to me. I’ll bring it over. How about tonight?’
‘Sure, I get home around six.’
‘And may I take you to dinner after?’
A glow that could not be entirely attributable to hot coffee rose up to Dulcie’s cheeks. ‘I think that might be possible.’ Good thing he couldn’t see her turning pink.
‘Great! And then maybe you and Stacia can slug it out.’
He meant about the computer, she knew that. But the coffee chose just that moment to go down her windpipe and kept her from answering for nearly a minute. By the time she’d recovered her breath, she realized it was time to get ready for work. If she left now, she could pick up an iced latte to make up for what she’d just spat out.
‘Now that I have a job again, it doesn’t make sense to lose it.’
‘See you tonight then.’
She shouldn’t be so hard on Stacia, Dulcie knew that – and kept repeating it to herself as she joined the throng of commuters on the Red Line. The woman was only doing the same thing she herself was, she said as she walked up to Priority’s revolving glass doors. Trying to get ahead, finish her education, and maybe meet a nice guy. By rights, they should be friends.
‘Miss Schwartz?’ She’d been so distracted as she opened her bag for the guard that she hadn’t even noticed when he finished poking through it. ‘Miss Schwartz?’ She absently started to hand him her extra-large latte. ‘No, Miss Schwartz. Keep your coffee. I have a message here for you.’
She withdrew the proffered cup and looked up.
‘You’re to report to security before heading up to your workspace.’
‘Security?’ Dulcie felt her stomach clench up. Suddenly the extra caffeine seemed like a very bad idea. ‘Again?’ But they’d just cleared her!
‘It’s the office over to the right.’ She could see the door. There was still time to bolt.
‘Hi, I’m Dulcie Schwartz.’ She hated the way her voice squeaked, but at least the guard seated in the tiny office wasn’t one of the two gorillas who had marched her out of her cubicle on Monday. Instead, a tired-looking older man glanced up.
‘Oh, yeah, Schwartz. Hang on. You’ve been reassigned or something. I’m supposed to call when you come in.’
Great. Dulcie leaned back against the wall. Bolting was growing more attractive by the minute. But just when she was ready to slide out of the door, it was blocked by the smaller of the two gorillas.
‘Miss Schwartz?’ He looked up from a sheet of paper. ‘Sorry to inconvenience you. We’re relocating your workstation. Would you come with me, please?’
Dulcie started breathing again and followed the large man to the elevators. ‘What’s going on? Did you find out who was using my computer?’
‘From all they’ve told me,’ he looked over at her with what almost seemed like a smile, ‘this could be routine maintenance.’
He pressed the elevator for the fourteenth floor. It was not yet ten minutes after nine and they had the car to themselves. ‘Did you leave any personal items at your former workspace?’
Dulcie thought of her sweater, now long gone. ‘No.’
‘OK, then. Follow me, please.’ As they exited the elevator, Dulcie looked over toward what she thought of as ‘her’ cubicle. The walls obscured the computer itself, but nobody was standing near it. Maybe the terminal had already been removed for dissection.
‘Miss Schwartz?’ Her escort was waiting, already a few steps ahead, and he led her down a long passageway that she’d never noticed. Suddenly, all was light. They were in the front of the building, where actual windows let in actual sunlight. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all!
‘Ah, work area eleven.’ Her escort consulted the paper again, and led her through a maze of grey-carpeted cubicles into an open area. A large round enclosure held six older women, all wearing headsets.
‘Priority Insurance, can I help you? Priority, please hold . . .’ She was standing by the message center. ‘Priority Insurance, can I help you?’
‘Here it is.’ The large man led her around the circular phone bank and over to a desktop. On it, a computer that looked identical to her old one was lit up with the Priority logo screensaver. On her right, a taller, more solid wall divided the open space. On her left was the call center.
‘Where’s Joanie sitting?’ Behind her was only open space, leading back to those windows. She could see no other cubicles like hers.
‘I’m sorry.’ He didn’t even bother looking at the paper in his hand. ‘I don’t have any information about other employees.’
‘But we worked together—’ He started to walk away.
‘Please hold, can I help you?’
‘It’s
may
.’ She hadn’t meant to say anything. The words had just slipped out, but suddenly the escort stepped closer again.
‘Are we going to have some kind of problem here?’ He was very tall.
‘No, no problem. It’s just – the way they’re answering the phones—’
‘I’m sure you’ll get used to it.’ She could see that he’d already written off this particular chore as done. ‘So, from now on, your computer logon will only work at this station.’
He walked off and Dulcie slumped into her new seat. Even that wasn’t as comfortable as her former chair, and she spent the next fifteen minutes trying to ratchet up the base so that she faced the terminal and wasn’t straining her neck.
‘Who sat here before me? An elf?’
‘Priority Insurance, can I help you?’
Not even ten a.m., and she was missing Joanie. The day had not gotten off to an auspicious start.
This wasn’t about space. She and Joanie had both commented on the empty cubicles around the other side of the building. This was personal. By noon, Dulcie realized that she was in temp Siberia. They might have said they didn’t suspect her, but putting her out here was hardly a sign of trust. Did they want her to quit? Maybe save themselves the legal complications of firing her? Or did they have another reason for isolating her in this noisy corner of the building?
By twelve thirty, when she usually took her lunch break, Dulcie had decided to investigate. With a smile to the message center ladies (‘Can I help you?’),
Dulcie shrugged her bag on to her shoulder and slowly walked around their large, circular station. If anyone asked, she was simply looking for the ladies’ room. She had a right to pee before taking her lunch break, didn’t she? She wasn’t a prisoner. Yet.
It was only when she arrived at the open area in front of the elevator banks that she realized she didn’t have a plan. What was she looking for, anyway? Maybe Joanie would show up and they could confab. Two men in suits walked up and she smiled at them. One fixed her with a dead-eyed stare and looked away. The other didn’t even acknowledge her. One elevator opened, going down, and Dulcie watched them step in. The dead-eyed man turned to her. Smile still plastered to her face, she nodded, trying to convey the idea that she was waiting for the up elevator. Three more suits came up next, and this time Dulcie got some glances. She was a car wreck they were passing on the highway, a corporate casualty. She didn’t bother to smile back as she watched them get into the next elevator.
She couldn’t continue to stand there, waiting for a friend who never came. That was clear. But – wait – what was that? As Dulcie was trying to peer down the short hallway, back toward where she used to sit with Joanie, she was sure she saw something moving, something low to the ground. Could it be? A fluffy tail bent itself back around the cubicle, its grey fur standing out against the dirty carpet.
Dulcie, there’s something you should see.
Not sure at first if she had actually heard the voice, so low and yet so reassuring, she stepped toward the tail. It disappeared around the corner and, with a discreet glance, she followed, hurrying to catch up. There! Up ahead was the plume-like tail, on top of those bouncing white jodhpurs.
Now, Dulcie, this is for your eyes only . . . be careful.
She had heard the voice! She had! But she’d also heard what it – he – had said, and so she ducked down slightly to keep her head below the level of the carpeted dividers as she turned the last corner, toward the warren of cubicles she’d occupied since the middle of June.