Dulcie Schwartz and her feline friends get tangled up in this mysterious yarn . . . - Caught between a distracted supervisor and university politics, Dulcie’s doctoral thesis looks doomed. When she stumbles across the bloodied body of a fellow student, things couldn’t get any worse. Unless her mother’s dreams turn out to be premonitions and Dulcie’s work has all been in vain . . . With the ghost of Mr Grey – her wise and loyal late, great cat – strangely silent, and her new kitten refusing to speak, this time Dulcie might just be on her own.
From Grey Matters
The apparition remained silent, but its speaking eyes saw far. Green eyes, cool as emeralds, stared into her own, summoning images of the sea beyond the borders. Of the forest, far away. Of a key to secrets lost. Of another, gone before
. . .
‘Why don’t you just say something?’ Dulcie Schwartz sighed and slumped back against the wall. ‘Anything?’
It was no use. The plump black and white kitten sitting opposite her looked up with wide green eyes. ‘Kitten?’ The green eyes blinked, and that was it.
With another, larger sigh, Dulcie pulled herself to her feet. Just this morning, she had been sure something was going to happen. A third-year grad student, she’d had sections to teach and hadn’t been able to stick around. But all day, through Dickens and Poe, she’d been thinking. Waiting for the moment she could run home. And an hour ago, she’d broken away, postponed a tutorial with three students who didn’t seem to care much anyway, and thrown herself on to the floor to be at eye level with the tiny tuxedoe’d beast. The kitten had stared at her with such concentration, she’d felt certain they were going to have a breakthrough. Then, nothing.
‘That’s fine, then. Play dumb.’ Sliding a full book bag on to her shoulder she gave the small feline a parting look. ‘But don’t think this is the last of it.’
Buttoning the heavy wool duffle coat she’d dug out of storage only two weeks before, Dulcie clumped down the stairs to the apartment’s front door. If she’d looked up as she fished her keys from her pocket, she might have seen the kitten tilt its head as if listening to something in the silent flat. She might have seen the tiny cat jump up and hurry to the head of the stairs, the better to view Dulcie’s red-brown curls disappearing through the door’s small window. If Dulcie had glanced back just then, she might have seen the kitten’s small pink mouth open in a soft ‘mew.’