erased the second word and substituted ‘fraud’. Just then, the gentle hush of the reading room was broken by the jarring ring of a cell phone. All through the hall, heads bobbed up.
‘ Shhh! ’ They were all staring at her. One older man with a goatee was positively scowling, and Dulcie realized that the galling noise was coming from her phone. She reached into her bag and, with a quick fumble, turned it off. She shrugged and smiled; the silent version of an apology. The goatee guy shot her a look.
Two minutes later, a quick glance around the room showed only a dozen bald pates, five scruffy hairy ones, and one woman who seemed to be sleeping. Dulcie snuck the offending phone out of her bag and into her lap. The missed call had come from the Cambridge Police. Well, good. She had been hoping they would follow up on the drug angle. And now she might have more to tell them: about Alana and Luisa, about the ring, and the possibility that blue-blood Tim might have had compromising material on a Beacon Hill deb. Should she call them back now? The terminal in front of her had finished its search. More than two dozen citations linked her daytime employer and the word ‘fraud’. Most of them seemed to be news stories, the kind of reports that quoted insurance executives justifying their premiums by blaming consumer fraud. But one or two looked like they might go deeper. She hit ‘print’ and by the time she had gathered herself together and wandered over to the library’s print center, the sleek and silent machine had already spat out the pages. Stuffing them into her bag, she headed for the door.
‘Hello, this is Dulcie Schwartz. I’m returning Detective Scavetti’s call.’ There’d been a short queue at the exit as it was so close to closing time, and by the time the guard had checked Dulcie’s bag and let her through another fifteen minutes had passed. Dulcie stood on the Widener steps, looking up at the clouds.
‘Ms Schwartz? This is Detective Forrester. I’m afraid Detective Scavetti is gone for the day.’
Dulcie sighed. Maybe Tim’s case wasn’t that high priority after all. She’d left the quiet cool of the library for nothing. Even though the summer twilight was fading, the humidity remained oppressive.
‘But I do know he would like to speak with you. Could you come in tomorrow at ten?’
‘Of course.’ Tomorrow was Saturday and she’d have preferred to sleep in but at least she was getting somewhere. Maybe Scavetti would prove to be her knight errant, righting wrongs around him. ‘Did he get my message about the drugs? Something else has come up, too. There’s something about Tim’s old girlfriend—’
The voice on the other end cut her off. ‘I’m sure you can explain all that to Detective Scavetti. I don’t have his notes here. I just know that he is very insistent that you come in as soon as possible for questioning.’
‘ Questioning ?’ Dulcie straightened up. ‘Me?’ But the line was dead.
As if on cue, the clouds cracked open and it started to rain.
Ten
Dulcie was still standing there, holding the open phone and staring at the torrent pouring down from the edge of the library portico, when the little machine came back to life.
‘Hello?’ She heard the quaver in her own voice. Right now all news seemed like bad news.
‘Dulcie! I’m so glad I’ve caught you.’ It was her mom, breathless as usual. Life was a continual wonder, and a continual crisis, for Lucy Schwartz. ‘You weren’t at home and I was worried.’
‘I was in the library, Lucy. And you could have left a message. I’d have called you back.’ She glanced up at the sky. The rain didn’t look ready to stop any time soon. ‘What’s up?’
‘I’ve had a vision, Dulcie. And you were in it.’
Dulcie closed her eyes and leaned back against the cool stone of the library. A vision could mean a dream, or it could mean her mother and her buddy Nirvana had been hitting the peyote again. For purely
‘ Shhh! ’ They were all staring at her. One older man with a goatee was positively scowling, and Dulcie realized that the galling noise was coming from her phone. She reached into her bag and, with a quick fumble, turned it off. She shrugged and smiled; the silent version of an apology. The goatee guy shot her a look.
Two minutes later, a quick glance around the room showed only a dozen bald pates, five scruffy hairy ones, and one woman who seemed to be sleeping. Dulcie snuck the offending phone out of her bag and into her lap. The missed call had come from the Cambridge Police. Well, good. She had been hoping they would follow up on the drug angle. And now she might have more to tell them: about Alana and Luisa, about the ring, and the possibility that blue-blood Tim might have had compromising material on a Beacon Hill deb. Should she call them back now? The terminal in front of her had finished its search. More than two dozen citations linked her daytime employer and the word ‘fraud’. Most of them seemed to be news stories, the kind of reports that quoted insurance executives justifying their premiums by blaming consumer fraud. But one or two looked like they might go deeper. She hit ‘print’ and by the time she had gathered herself together and wandered over to the library’s print center, the sleek and silent machine had already spat out the pages. Stuffing them into her bag, she headed for the door.
‘Hello, this is Dulcie Schwartz. I’m returning Detective Scavetti’s call.’ There’d been a short queue at the exit as it was so close to closing time, and by the time the guard had checked Dulcie’s bag and let her through another fifteen minutes had passed. Dulcie stood on the Widener steps, looking up at the clouds.
‘Ms Schwartz? This is Detective Forrester. I’m afraid Detective Scavetti is gone for the day.’
Dulcie sighed. Maybe Tim’s case wasn’t that high priority after all. She’d left the quiet cool of the library for nothing. Even though the summer twilight was fading, the humidity remained oppressive.
‘But I do know he would like to speak with you. Could you come in tomorrow at ten?’
‘Of course.’ Tomorrow was Saturday and she’d have preferred to sleep in but at least she was getting somewhere. Maybe Scavetti would prove to be her knight errant, righting wrongs around him. ‘Did he get my message about the drugs? Something else has come up, too. There’s something about Tim’s old girlfriend—’
The voice on the other end cut her off. ‘I’m sure you can explain all that to Detective Scavetti. I don’t have his notes here. I just know that he is very insistent that you come in as soon as possible for questioning.’
‘ Questioning ?’ Dulcie straightened up. ‘Me?’ But the line was dead.
As if on cue, the clouds cracked open and it started to rain.
Ten
Dulcie was still standing there, holding the open phone and staring at the torrent pouring down from the edge of the library portico, when the little machine came back to life.
‘Hello?’ She heard the quaver in her own voice. Right now all news seemed like bad news.
‘Dulcie! I’m so glad I’ve caught you.’ It was her mom, breathless as usual. Life was a continual wonder, and a continual crisis, for Lucy Schwartz. ‘You weren’t at home and I was worried.’
‘I was in the library, Lucy. And you could have left a message. I’d have called you back.’ She glanced up at the sky. The rain didn’t look ready to stop any time soon. ‘What’s up?’
‘I’ve had a vision, Dulcie. And you were in it.’
Dulcie closed her eyes and leaned back against the cool stone of the library. A vision could mean a dream, or it could mean her mother and her buddy Nirvana had been hitting the peyote again. For purely
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