Grey Expectations by Clea Simon Page B

appeared on his upper lip. ‘Things I think you might have some, um, unique insight into.’
    â€˜What?’ Dulcie felt her stomach sink. That burger might not have been the best move.
    â€˜You know I used to work in Circulation, right?’
    She nodded.
    â€˜I know the girl who got my old job, and she said—’ He looked around again and licked his lips. ‘She said the Codex had moved recently.’
    â€˜So, maybe it was just misplaced, not stolen.’ She heard the relief in her voice, and heard it fade as Lloyd shook his head.
    â€˜Dulcie, listen: I didn’t say it had been moved. I said “moved”. You know they keep it in its own case?’
    Dulcie nodded. ‘A humidity-controlled, fireproof casket.’ That last word caused her to stumble, but her friend didn’t seem to notice.
    â€˜Well, twice now, when they’ve opened the case, the Codex hasn’t been there, where it was supposed to be.’ His voice was low now, confidential. Dulcie had to lean in to hear what he said next: ‘And The Wetherly Ghost has been in its place.’
    â€˜That – that makes no sense,’ Dulcie sputtered. She knew the classic Gothic too well. ‘ The Wetherly Ghost doesn’t need that kind of protection, not their copy. It’s only about two hundred years old, and it’s paper – not parchment, or whatever the Codex is.’
    â€˜I know.’ Lloyd was meeting her eyes now. ‘And there’s always some excuse for the Codex not being there. It’s being treated for mold, or there’s some new decay-preventative process or something. But you know what they say about it – and about the Wetherly. ’
    â€˜Oh, come on.’ Dulcie felt the frustration building. ‘The book may be about a haunting. But the thing itself is not haunted. It’s not even that good!’ She turned around, as if looking for help, but if Mr Grey was anywhere in the Yard, he was not prepared to debate the relative merits of eighteenth-century novels. ‘Look, I’ve seen the Mildon Wetherly . I’ve even read a copy of the book. It’s a perfectly ordinary Gothic by a perfectly ordinary author, Geoffrey Thomas. Thomas was the Earl of Richmond or something, so it was a big deal when he wrote it, but it’s not any great shakes as a novel. And the Mildon copy is a first edition, sure, but just a printed book. The only reason for it even being in the Mildon is that it may have belonged to Thomas Paine. May have.’
    â€˜They say he was reading it when he died. Imagine, a total rationalist – a father of the country – reading a Gothic novel.’
    â€˜He was a sick old man. Maybe he wanted something diverting.’ Dulcie was getting worked up. ‘Of course, I’d have thought The Ravages would have been a better choice.’
    â€˜So, you don’t believe  . . .?’ He left the rest of the question unspoken.
    â€˜No, I don’t.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Look, I do believe that sometimes the spirits of those we love may linger.’ She chose the word carefully, hoping that Mr Grey would not take offense. ‘And, yes, the popular novels of that era do delve heavily into the supernatural. But, no, I do not believe that The Wetherly Ghost or any other books are themselves haunted.’
    Even as she spoke, Dulcie thought of her strange dreams. If some spirit didn’t linger, then what was the connection? Were her nocturnal visions simply the result of her scholarly immersion? It was too much to explain now to Lloyd, so she simply repeated herself. ‘Neither the Wetherly nor the Dunster Codex is haunted.’
    Something in her voice must have gotten through to Lloyd. He looked calmer now. ‘OK, then. I’m glad I don’t have to deal with it though. But Dulcie?’
    â€˜What?’ She couldn’t stop thinking of that dream. Something had been troubling