Grey Expectations (16 page)

‘Roland Galveston.' She finished the sentence. ‘Or whatever his real name is.' He looked up at that and waited. ‘We heard.'

‘You heard what?' His voice had grown soft. Dulcie knew that this was a warning of some sort. She could almost feel Mr Grey beside her, the fur along his spine beginning to fluff up. But she was so tired of being afraid. She wanted to trust someone, to clear the air.

‘That he went missing. That nobody knows where he is, and that he came to the university under false pretenses.' It all came tumbling out. ‘We had a big department meeting yesterday morning, and one of the senior faculty showed up. That's when I heard all about the Dunster Codex – it's a manuscript, by the way, an ancient manuscript – and that one of us graduate students might have been involved. And because nobody knows where Roland is, everyone seems to be thinking he was involved, and Trista was friends with him. Well, we all were really, but Trista probably knew him better than anyone. And she—'

‘There you are.' The door behind her burst open, letting in Jerry and an annoyed looking woman.

‘I tried to keep him out, but he was irate.' Dulcie recognized the receptionist from the front desk. ‘He said he had to be here.'

‘I need to know what's going on with Trista.' Jerry stepped into the room, facing Rogovoy. ‘I have to know.'

The detective seemed to take it all in stride. ‘It's OK, Miss Sonnabend. I think I'll be OK with two students.'

Muttering, she retreated.

‘And you are again?'

‘Jerry, Jerry Hannafin. Third year, applied sciences.' Reaching forward a little awkwardly, Jerry shook the detective's hand. ‘Trista's my girlfriend, and so ever since she's gone missing, I've been worried about her.'

Too late, Dulcie recognized that Jerry was going to make the same mistake she had. She stood up, hoping to interrupt. ‘Jerry—'

‘No, Dulcie, it's OK. I don't need you to defend me – or Trista. Officer – sir – you have to tell me what's going on. I mean, I've known Trista Dunlop for years now. I don't know what's going on with the missing manuscript or any of it. All I know is my girlfriend isn't a murderer.'

Dulcie sat back in her seat. Jerry had done it, brought up the one element she had managed to keep secret. She looked from her friend to the detective. The little eyes that squinted out were sharp and focused.

‘Murder, you say? Well, isn't it interesting that you bring that up.'

TWENTY-THREE

D
ulcie stared at the big man. Beside her, Jerry swallowed, and Dulcie remembered her initial impression of the detective. He was an ogre. A terrible, huge monster – and he was about to devour them both. She swallowed, too. Hard.

And then that impassive boulder of a face split into a grin, and the grin opened into a laugh that showed terrible, huge teeth. Dulcie couldn't help it. She closed her eyes.

‘You kids.' The voice sounded friendly, and she dared a peek. He was shaking his head. ‘I ask you to come in to talk, and the next thing I know, you're confessing to stolen treasures, conspiracies, and murder. I'm not sure it's a good thing you read so many books.'

‘But didn't you want to ask about Roland Galveston?' Dulcie found her voice. ‘And if Roland Galveston is missing, isn't it possible that he's—' She paused, afraid to say it. ‘Dead?'

‘Who says I'm talking about Roland Galveston?' He leaned forward, pinning her with a look. She turned to Jerry, who only shrugged. ‘And what kind of name is that, anyway?'

‘Well, it might be a
nom de plume
.' Rogovoy raised one eyebrow, and Dulcie felt herself color. ‘A pen name, a fake name.' Nothing. ‘I mean, we heard at the departmental meeting that there are some questions about his credentials.'

‘Not my department.' Rogovoy shook his head. ‘Though I do have this Mr Galveston on my list of people to contact.'

‘Then you
have
heard from him.' Relief washed over Dulcie.

‘Did he tell you about Trista? Is she with him?' She'd almost forgotten Jerry was there.

‘Now, now, calm down. Both of you.' Rogovoy patted the air between them as if he could lower the volume with his hands. ‘You're getting ahead of me here.'

‘You didn't talk to him, then,' Dulcie guessed, her voice dropping, and when the detective failed to correct her, she felt her mood sink with it. ‘He's still missing.'

‘
He
is not the object of my questioning.'

Both of the students looked up at the deliberate choice of pronoun. Jerry even started to talk: ‘Trista—'

‘Nor is anyone named “Trister”.' Rogovoy's booming voice cut him off, his brassy accent changing Trista's name to something not quite right. ‘What I called you in to speak about, Ms Schwartz, is something a lot more prosaic. And since you're here, Mr Hannafin, you may as well hear it too.' He cleared his throat, and Dulcie was struck by the impression that he was about to recite. Sure enough, his diction cleared up as he intoned: ‘The university police have received information that prompts them to alert the student body about certain issues with online security.'

‘Hackers?' She turned toward Jerry. He was sure to know a lot more about anything computer related than she was. ‘Because Jerry here, and my boyfriend, Chris—'

‘No, no, nothing so sophisticated.' Detective Rogovoy was making that motion with his hands again. Dulcie was beginning to get the impression that she made him nervous. ‘Just, you know, we've heard something about identity theft among the grad students.'

‘Identity theft? Like someone using a fake name?' She was about to bring up Galveston again when the big man shook his head.

‘More likely the other way,' he said. ‘People getting access to your PIN codes and passwords. Stuff like that.'

‘You know who's doing this?' Jerry butted in.

Rogovoy almost laughed. ‘If we did, Mr Hannafin  . . . No, truth is, we're not sure if it is happening at all, or if it is something being planned. But one of your colleagues, someone who identified himself as a grad student, called and said there was something hinky going on, that we should check the security clearance of off-campus students, the ones who have a certain level of access. Considering how serious these things can get – and that some of you, and I do mean you, Ms Schwartz, have been victimized in the past – we felt we should reach out to you. We're calling about a dozen of your colleagues, too.'

‘Well, I'm safe.' Dulcie relaxed. ‘Ever since the big hacking scandal, my boyfriend has gone over all my systems. Chris is a doctoral candidate in computer sciences, and he even made me change my passwords. They'd all been the same thing, my birthday, and he said that wasn't safe.'

‘And how often have you changed them since?' Rogovoy's voice was soft.

‘Well, that was only last year.' Dulcie saw him turn. Saw the detective and Jerry exchange a look.

‘Look, this may all be a storm in a tea kettle.' Somehow, the detective's quiet voice was scarier than his loud one. ‘All I know is that the forensic computer guys plugged the info into their systems and came up with a bunch of names. We're doing our best to clean this up quickly. But it's the end of the semester and, frankly, we're kind of overloaded. Did you know the ambassador to Kenya is coming to speak? So all we ask is that if you notice anything – charges on your credit cards. Emails from people or companies you never heard of, assuming you've bought into something. Whatever. Just let us know, OK?'

‘Sure.' Dulcie was a little stunned. Jerry, however, was not.

‘But what about my girlfriend?' He leaned on the table. ‘About Trista Dunlop?'

‘What about her?' Rogovoy met Jerry's eye, and Dulcie wondered which would give first. ‘Do you want to file a report?'

‘Maybe.' Jerry looked up at him. ‘Yeah, I do.'

‘OK, then.' Rogovoy sighed like a bellows and reached for a pen. ‘So, I assume she's been missing more than forty-eight hours?'

‘Well, no.' Jerry's face knit up. ‘Not yet.'

‘Not yet?'

He shook his head. ‘She didn't come home last night, and she's not answering her cell. Or returning messages.' He looked to Dulcie for confirmation. ‘And she was supposed to meet Dulcie for coffee yesterday, only she never showed.'

‘It's true, Detective.' Dulcie came to Jerry's defense. ‘Something was going on, something she couldn't talk about in the departmental offices. So we made plans to meet and then – nothing. I haven't been able to reach her, either.'

‘And is there anything else going on in this young woman's life?' He looked from Dulcie to Jerry. She could almost see his suspicions, and she willed Jerry to keep his mouth shut.

It didn't work. ‘She's defending her thesis next week,' he said. ‘But that's not it.'

‘Wait a minute.' Rogovoy had put the pen down. ‘You're telling me that after how many years, this girl is finally finishing up her degree. She's got what's basically the biggest exam of all, and so now she's acting a little weird. Maybe –' he shot Jerry a look – ‘she doesn't want to spend every night with her boyfriend. Maybe she doesn't want to schmooze with her girlfriend. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe she's locked herself away someplace quiet? Like, maybe she wants to study?'

‘She's not in her favorite super-secret study nook, either.' Dulcie was proud of that one. ‘I checked.'

‘And if you know about it, how secret can it be?' Rogovoy put the pad away and looked like he was about to leave, when Dulcie played her trump card.

‘But it was Trista who told us that Roland Galveston was missing. She said you questioned her – and that you implied she was a suspect in his murder.'

It did not have the desired effect. ‘Miss Schwartz. Look. I know you're under a lot of pressure, end of the term and all. And maybe your friend, maybe it's been too much for her. But we don't have any open murder cases here on campus. Believe me, I would know.'

‘But—' She paused, unsure of what to say.

Rogovoy looked at her and shook his head. ‘Maybe your friend needed some help. It happens, you know. Have you tried asking for her at the health services?'

Dulcie looked at Jerry. This was what she'd been trying to tell him. What Suze had suggested, too. Now he looked defeated. ‘No,' he mumbled.

‘Well, why don't you try there first.' Rogovoy leaned back in his chair. ‘If she's not locked away studying, I'd put money on a nice, restful cot.'

TWENTY-FOUR

‘
R
estful cot, my  . . .' Jerry was mumbling to himself angrily as they left. Dulcie didn't mind. He'd looked so defeated as they'd been escorted out, she'd been a little worried that he might be near a breakdown himself.

‘It doesn't mean she's crazy, Jerry.' Dulcie bit her lip. Chris had gone for counseling, following his mother's treatment for cancer. Did he ever tell his friends? ‘And she has been under a lot of stress.'

‘So have
you
.' Jerry turned on her with a glare. ‘And I don't see you checking yourself in anywhere.'

‘I have been having really weird dreams.' It was a peace offering, the best she could do.

Jerry wasn't impressed. ‘Checked herself in.' He was still muttering.

Dulcie, however, found herself considering something else the detective had said. ‘Hey, Jerry, maybe there is something in the whole identity theft issue. I mean, maybe someone stole Trista's ID. Maybe someone pretending to be Trista is involved with Roland Galveston's disappearance.'

‘Maybe he's behind it.' Jerry turned toward her. ‘After all, if this Galveston guy's not who he says he is, maybe he's involved with
her
disappearance.'

‘It's possible.' Dulcie looked at her friend. ‘But what the detective said might make sense too.'

‘Trista isn't crazy.' Jerry had his shoulders hunched up as they walked. ‘She's not.'

‘I know that, and you know that.' Dulcie was trying to calm her friend down and think at the same time. ‘Detective Rogovoy doesn't know her. We do. Still  . . .' She paused, trying to piece a thought together.

‘What?' Jerry barked. ‘You think we should go to the health services?'

‘It couldn't hurt.' She turned toward the redhead. ‘I don't think she's crazy, Jerry. But she has been under a lot of pressure. Maybe she did have some kind of a collapse.' She saw him about to protest, so she hurried to get the words out. ‘Exhaustion, or something. I mean, they'd take her phone away if she was checked in for exhaustion, right?'

He shrugged, and she saw how miserable he looked. ‘Try to think of the bright side, Jer.' She summoned a smile. ‘At least we know she won't really be accused of murder.'

The two walked in companionable silence then, toward the tower that housed the health services, basically an on-campus hospital for the university population. The walk took a little longer than usual; Commencement brought not only visiting dignitaries but also thousands of family members and alumni, and the sidewalks were full of pedestrians, many of them stopping at every corner.

‘This
is
Mass Ave,' she heard someone say, and she smiled. ‘We're
on
it.'

‘What if that detective is right?' Jerry's voice was so low, she almost didn't hear it. ‘I mean, about Tris?'

‘That she's had a breakdown?' Dulcie watched her friend. This was what Suze had suggested, and she had wondered, too. The pressure – and Trista's habit of keeping everything inside – must have been intense. Add in that talk about a non-existent murder  . . .

Jerry nodded. ‘She has been, well, sort of distant at times. But, I thought  . . . I mean, I didn't want to push  . . .'