Grey Expectations Read Online Free PDF Page B

imagination, Dulcie.’
    â€˜But  . . .’ Dulcie paused. Suze had once accused her of getting carried away by her fancies. That’s what happened, she had figured out, when a law student lives with a literature major. ‘Would they say anything more if they weren’t ready to charge her?’
    Another sigh. Dulcie waited, a new thought forming in her head. That cat – it was hard to see in this light – but wasn’t the fur longer than Esmé’s? The silhouette a little larger and leaner?
    â€˜â€”overdramatizing a situation.’ Suze had been talking, and Dulcie had missed it.
    â€˜So, you think she made the whole thing up?’ That much she’d gotten.
    â€˜I’m not saying she made it all up, but if she was really a suspect in a murder investigation there’d be more going on than two plain-clothes cops simply dropping by. Even if they didn’t yet have a warrant for her arrest. They didn’t even confirm that this guy is dead. Maybe there’s something going on with him, something else that they want to investigate. Maybe an identity theft issue, or something with a fellowship or work. I mean, does he have a campus job?’
    Dulcie shrugged. ‘Probably. I think the fellowship comes with a position – something in the library or one of the conservation labs.’
    â€˜Well, maybe there’s something going on outside of his studies.’ Suze was on a roll. ‘Maybe, I don’t know, maybe he’s done something that’s making the police talk to his female colleagues. Something that would make them wish he was gone – even talk about him as “the late”.’
    Suze didn’t have to elaborate. The campus had been rocked by a sexual harassment scandal not that long ago. ‘Well, why did Trista feel threatened by them?’
    â€˜Didn’t you say she’s defending her thesis next week?’ In the background, Dulcie heard a PA announcement. Nine forty-five, the store was probably closing. ‘Look, unless somebody shows up with a warrant, I really wouldn’t worry about this, ’kay, Dulcie? I’ve got to run.’
    â€˜Bye.’ Dulcie let her friend run off. Chris was working as usual; the overnight help-desk positions in the computer lab paid the best. Right now, that was fine. She leaned back on the old sofa and watched the silhouetted cat continue his methodical bath.
    â€˜Mr Grey, what do you think of all this?’ She had no doubt now. Although the cat on the window sill remained shadowy in the fading light, his shape, his form, even his calm composure let her know that her former feline had once again appeared. But as so often happened, the vision remained silent. Dulcie wondered if there was some rule – she could hear her former pet or see him. Rarely did she experience both, and right now, she longed to hear what she’d come to think of as his voice, soft and deep. Still, the sight of him was immensely comforting. Maybe Suze was right. Maybe Trista had a bad case of stage fright and had made some kind of routine visit larger than it was. It was a stretch, but then again, Trista had spent the last four years embedded in Victorian melodrama.
    It hit her like cold water. Like a gust of winter in the warm spring night. Dulcie had sensed something was wrong, and Suze had been sure she was overreacting. If her former room-mate hadn’t been so distracted, she would undoubtedly have noticed it herself. As cool and calmly as she could, Dulcie went through it all one more time. What Trista had told her on the phone. What Trista had told her about the police visit. What she had repeated – both back to Trista and then to Suze, with her almost-legal mind. No wonder Suze had dismissed it. Dulcie took a deep breath of relief.
    Trista could not have been accused of murder. Nobody had actually said that Roland Galveston was dead.
    It was the pressure. It had to be.