Grey Matters by Clea Simon Page B

yeah, Lucy had a dream.’
    ‘And you’ve started writing in earnest, so this hits on all your anxieties.’ He looked up so suddenly that Dulcie wondered if he’d bitten his tongue. ‘Maybe that’s it, Dulce. Maybe your mom is psychic, but not in the way she thinks. Maybe she’s picking up on your fears.’
    ‘Wow.’ Dulcie savored the idea. ‘That would be great, wouldn’t it? But what about you? Why did you tense up when I asked?’ She could see Lloyd drawing back and considered sharing her student’s suspicions. ‘Come on, Lloyd. You can tell me. Is something up with Bullock?’
    Lloyd nodded. ‘I swear, he’s getting worse.’ Her officemate lowered his voice. ‘Sometimes, Dulcie, I think he’s losing it. He called me at home last night at some godawful hour. I’d been in bed for hours.’
    ‘What an invasion of privacy!’ Dulcie looked suitably shocked. She’d noted Lloyd’s choice of words, and although she couldn’t imagine Lloyd being in bed with anyone, the trespass was unforgivable. Sleep itself was precious. ‘He couldn’t have waited till morning? He couldn’t have emailed?’
    ‘Please.’ Lloyd didn’t have to say anymore. Professor William Alfred Bullock did not use email. Dulcie doubted he even typed. ‘And get this. He told me – I kid you not – that he wants me to start researching some rare text. An Elizabethan romance or something!’
    ‘Huh?’ This wasn’t what she’d expected.
    ‘I know! Not even his period!’ Lloyd was still whispering, but the color had returned to his cheeks. ‘He’s being all mysterious about where he got it, acting like it just turned up in his collection, and now he wants me to drop everything and get to work on it. And this after he’s had me working nonstop on the notes for the new Smollett edition. I mean, he’s supposed to have turned in the foreword months ago.’
    He sat back and the two friends mulled over the craziness of bosses.
    ‘Senior faculty,’ Dulcie broke the silence at last. ‘I guess they really are free to follow their fancies. And it’s our job to try to keep up.’ She looked around the tiny office. It looked comforting. Homey. Raleigh’s guesses might be off target, but that didn’t mean Dulcie shouldn’t start reading her student’s thesis project, or get back to work on her own. But that question – and Lucy’s call – still rankled.
    ‘Speaking of, I think I’ll head over there. Beard the lion in his den.’ She pulled the heavy book bag back on to her shoulder. ‘Want me to tell him anything? That you’ve discovered Sir Walter Raleigh’s diary or something?’
    Lloyd smiled and shook his head. ‘I’ll figure it out, Dulcie. Actually, I’m hoping that if I don’t mention it, he forgets about it. I don’t think he even remembers where he got it, if it exists at all. Maybe it was all a dream. He’s been getting a little, well, less reality-based as time goes on, if you get my drift.’
    ‘As if he ever was, Lloyd.’ Dulcie smiled and headed for the door. She hadn’t even taken off her coat.

EIGHTEEN
    S he heard the professor before she saw him. Halfway up that short walkway, eyes focused on the front door, Dulcie heard what could only be described as a roar. For a moment, she hesitated. What if the killer had returned and was now wrestling with the aged academic? What if her mentor had gone into a wild, murderous rage? Would she be finding Polly’s body next, lying arms akimbo among the fallen books?
    Shaking that all-too-believable image from her head and taking a deep breath for courage, Dulcie climbed the stone stoop and rang the doorbell. Inside the heavy oak door, chimes – and more roars – rang out.
    ‘Hi, Dulcie.’ Polly answered, looking no more flustered than usual. ‘I’m, um, I’m not sure the professor is receiving visitors.’
    She stood in the doorway as another roar made the wan assistant wince. Dulcie wondered once again about her mentor’s temper. He wouldn’t