Murder In Her Dreams (20 page)

She added pieces of chicken, rice, and gravy
to each plate. “When will he be coming?”

Tempted to lie, he instead blurted out the
truth. “I don’t know. I haven’t called him yet.”

She stopped what she was doing and turned to
face him. “What? Look, the wedding is only six weeks off. He’ll
need to made travel arrangements.”

Ian looked down at the hors d’oeuvres. “Yeah,
I know, but I’ve been busy. You know this is tax time.”

Sharon pulled off her apron and threw it
toward the counter. She missed and it fell to the floor. With an
exasperated sigh, she snatched it up and plunked it down on the
counter.

“Ian, I know I’ve been the one to set the
date and make the arrangements. You don’t have all that much to do
for the wedding. Surely, you can find time to call your
brother?”

“I’ll do it, okay? Now can we drop it?”

She said nothing for several moments. She
stared at him as if seeing him for the first time.

“Ian, are you having second thoughts about
marrying me?”

He ran a hand through his hair. He had not
wanted the conversation to move in this direction.

“This isn’t like me. I don’t want to hurt
you, but something bothers me. I just don’t know what.”

“I knew it. It’s that Cassie Blake.”

“Cassie Blake?” Ian stared at her, wondering
at her words. “I hardly know her. How could she have anything to do
with us?”

“I don’t know. Every since I first heard of
her, you’ve been sort of distant. If you have any doubts, we should
call off the engagement. I don’t have to marry you. If you can’t
make up your mind, we might as well call it quits. Larry could
never make his mind up about anything other than his job, and I’m
afraid you’re the same way. I won’t be put in that position again.”
She glared at him, her eyes splinters of green ice.

“Sharon, I do care, but this accident almost
killed me. Naturally, I have to consider all the facts. Suppose
Cassie Blake is right? What if someone is trying to kill me?”

Sharon studied him for several minutes. “Who?
Why? Surely if someone were really trying to kill you, you would
have some idea about it. Why would anyone target you?”

“I don’t know.” He stared down at the hors
d’oeuvres plate and turned it forty-five degrees. “I’ve certainly
thought about it, but I can’t think of anyone who could possible
hate me enough to kill me. So far as I know, all our clients are
satisfied with our work. We save most of them more money than they
pay us. I haven’t got many friends, so how can I have any
enemies?”

“Could someone be jealous of your
success?”

“Who? An anonymous accountant somewhere? It
just doesn’t make any sense. I pay my staff well, and we all get
along fine.”

“Then maybe the accident was just that. Did
you see anyone or find evidence of anyone?”

“No, I didn’t. I talked with the construction
crew and the foreman. He said he would never leave a stack of
bricks so close to the edge. He apologized and promised to do an
extra check before letting his men go for the day.”

“Really, Ian, all you have is the assertion
of this Blake woman that someone is trying to kill you. Maybe she
piled up those bricks.”

“Sharon, I’ve already told you she has no
access to the building. I had to unlock the door to get in.” Ian
hardened his voice. “I’m sure Cassie Blake had nothing to do with
it.”

“But she was there.” Sharon had a stubborn,
set look on her face.

“Yes, thank God she was. She’s got a lot of
spunk. I underestimated her before. I won’t do it again.”

Sharon gripped the counter behind her with
white fingers. “So did I.” She crossed the few steps to the
breakfast bar and leaned toward him.

“Ian, I’ve had enough of this crazy woman.
Either you agree to stay away from her or our engagement is
off.”

“What?” He stared at her, surprised at her
seriousness.

“I mean it Ian. Either I’m important enough
for you to consider my feelings or the engagement is off.”

Ian stiffened. “Sharon, I don’t like
ultimatums.”

“That means you plan on seeing her again,”
she snapped. Her face had turned to marble.

“I didn’t say that.”

He frowned, uncertain what to do or say. What
did Sharon want? If they were to have any kind of life together, he
owed her the truth. What did he want? Right now, he wasn’t too sure
of anything—of Sharon, of marrying her, of believing in Cassie
Blake’s dreams. Both women made him uncomfortable. He didn’t want
to be put on the spot or face ultimatums.

Ian sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll see Cassie
Blake again or not, but I will not be told whom to choose for my
friends.”

Sharon twisted Ian’s ring on her finger. He
watched her, wondering what she would do. She looked at him, eyes
green and hard, and then looked back to the ring. She eased it
forward on her finger and then back again. Ian relaxed.

With a jerk, Sharon pulled the ring from her
finger and handed it to him. “Come back and see me when you know
what you want.”

“Sharon.” Ian stared down at the ring in his
hand, unsettled and lost.

Chapter
Sixteen

Saturday, Cassie managed a late lunch at
Tula’s. Unfortunately, a lot of shoppers and gallery hoppers had
the same idea. Kinesha and Tula had little time to spare. Kinesha
took Cassie’s order and returned with it ten minutes later.

“Busy today,” Cassie observed as Kinesha set
her food down, the avocado and sprout sandwich first, followed by
the big yellow pot of tea. The tray still had another sandwich and
two glasses of a dark liquid.

“I’ll say, the boss lady better get some help
if this keeps up. She said to tell you she wants to talk with you
before you go, but it’ll be awhile. Enjoy.”

Cassie took her time with lunch. Tula passed
several times and smiled, but didn’t stop. Cassie managed to catch
Kinesha’s eye and order a piece of apple flan.

“You must be psychic,” Kinesha said as she
set the flan before Cassie. “That’s the last one.”

Cassie grinned back. “That’s because it’s so
good.”

The flan consisted of a butter-rich crisp
pastry layered with thinly sliced apples covered with a shiny,
transparent sugar glaze. Cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg provided a
perfect blend of spices. She savored the last bite of the heavenly
apple flan and wished for more.

Tula set a fresh pot of tea on the table as
she sank onto the chair next to Cassie. “Whew! It’s been a busy
day. At this rate, I’ll have to hire another waitress for weekends.
Interested in a little moonlighting?” She gave Cassie a mischievous
grin.

“Only if you promise me I get the apple flan
with my lunch.”

Tula’s laughter drew several looks from her
customers.. “Kinesha and I should be so lucky. That’s the last
piece. Think about it. I really need someone.”

The feeling Tula wanted to say something
filled the silence, but she only stared at the yellow napkin in
front of her. Cassie had never known Tula at a loss for words
before. The quiet damped Cassie’s spirits. She sipped her tea,
anxious for her friend to begin.

Tula picked up the yellow napkin and
straightened it. She gave Cassie a sideways glance. “Any more
dreams?”

“Not since the one about the bricks. I can’t
believe Ian McLeod could dismiss that as an accident. Even worse,
at one point he almost accused me of engineering the whole
thing.”

Tula ran a finger along the edge of the
napkin. “Cassie, I’ve been feeling some bad vibes lately. I’m glad
you’re wearing the sun pendant. Be extra careful for the next few
days.”

“Why?” She searched Tula’s face for some
clue, any clue. The worry in the dark eyes frightened her. “Is
something going to happen?”

Tula stared down at the yellow napkin. “I’m
not sure. I read the cards, and I don’t like what I saw. Nothing
definite, but some troubling signs.”

She gazed at Cassie and studied her face.
“Don’t do anything foolish, okay?”

“Me? Foolish?” Cassie laughed. “I’m the
cowardly lion, remember?”

“So how come you risked falling bricks to
save McLeod? This is Tula. I know you.” She patted Cassie’s hand.
“Just look before you jump into more trouble than you can handle.
Sometimes, calling the police or a friend isn’t a bad idea. You
don’t have to save the world all by yourself.”

The bell at the front rang. Tula glanced
around, but rose quickly. “Kinesha’s busy. I’ll see you later, gal.
Just remember what I said. May the white light guide your
path.”

Uneasy, Cassie watched as Tula hurried off.
As she left the money for her meal, she considered Tula’s words.
They reinforced her own unease.

* * * *

An hour later, Cassie sat at home reading the
Margaret Mannus book,
The Barnyard Seer
. The ring of the
phone jangled for her attention. She picked it up on the second
ring.

“Cassie, this is Ian McLeod.” Background
static muffled his voice and made it sound strange.

“Ian, this is a bad connection. I can hardly
hear you.”

“It’s this phone. I dropped it and scrambled
its insides. I’m lucky it works at all. Can you meet me at the
Bermuda Onion on High Street? I must talk to you.” The sound of the
static grew louder.

“What did you say? Can you speak up?”

“I said I want you to meet me at the Bermuda
Onion on High Street.”

“The Bermuda Onion? Near Buttle?”

“Yes, it won’t take long. It’s about the
rabbit.”

Cassie gasped. “You know who the rabbit
is?”

“Not exactly, but I’ve learned something that
may help us find him. Please, can you come?”

Tula was right. Things were happening. If Ian
knew something about the rabbit, she wanted to know it too. “All
right, but it’ll take me a half hour to get there.”

“I’ll wait, and thanks.”

While Ian McLeod had begun to believe her,
his acceptance had been grudging. Cassie wondered what he had
learned. At least it sounded like he believed in the rabbit
now.

She grabbed her purse and keys and headed for
her car. As she drove south along High Street, she went over the
brief conversation again. Something about it bothered her.

* * * *

Brad laughed and tossed the handful of
cellophane he had been scrunching into the wastebasket. Some people
never learned. The interfering bitch couldn’t read minds after all.
It would take her at least twenty minutes to get to the Onion with
all the traffic lights on High Street. Once there, she would
probably give McLeod fifteen minutes before she left. Even if she
then decided to come to McLeod’s office, that left him thirty to
forty minutes. More than enough time to take care of McLeod.

Finding her phone number had been easy. He
had copied it off the appointment information MaryLou had written
in her calendar. Between MaryLou and McLeod, nothing ever got
destroyed. He laughed at how easy they made it to keep track of
McLeod. He knew finding that crumpled ball of a note in McLeod’s
office would pay off. He would never have known about the rabbit
otherwise.

With the Blake bitch taken care of for a
little while, he could focus on Ian McLeod without any
interruptions. Black shirt, black pants, gloves. He picked up the
ski mask and shoved it in his right pants’ pocket. He’d put it on
at the office. He didn’t really need it, but it made him look more
frightening. He wanted to scare the hell out of McLeod before he
shot him.

Shooting him would almost be anticlimactic.
He wanted McLeod to suffer a little first. Fear did strange things
to a man. Maybe he should string McLeod along a little and shoot
him when he least expected it. Brad smiled as he slid the gun in
the other pocket.

* * * *

As Cassie stopped at the light at North
Broadway and High, she heard again that low voice behind the
static. Had it been Ian’s? The more she thought about it, the more
she doubted it. Why would he choose the Bermuda Onion? A lot of
college kids and young people hung out there. Why not somewhere in
Arlington? Henderson Road had a lot of restaurants. The light
turned. The car behind honked as Cassie made a quick right.

She drove as fast as she could and had to hit
the brakes when the car in front of her signaled for a turn. Damn.
Her skin crawled. Tula’s bad vibes all right.

Where would Ian be on a Saturday? He could be
home or doing errands. How could she find him? Concentrate, Cassie.
Where are you, Ian? Where should I go? In her mind an image
formed—Ian, shirt sleeves rolled up, working at a computer. Numbers
danced across the screen. His office.

Cassie swung on to the 315 ramp, headed
north, and kept going. Ahead a red car pulled into the left lane.
Cassie cursed and hit the brake. As the red car pulled back into
the right lane, she sped ahead. She had to get to Ian’s office
before ... before something happened. Something dreadful. She
prayed she would be in time.

* * * *

The door to Ian’s office opened, and he
looked up, startled. A figure clad in black and wearing a black ski
mask stood there. The figure kicked the door closed and raised its
right hand, pointing a blue steel revolver at Ian. Big and
threatening, the gun would make one hell of a hole.

“All right, McLeod,” the words came out in a
harsh, low voice, “now I’ve got you. Time to finish the job, and
the Blake bitch won’t save you this time.”

“What? Who the hell are you?” Ian started to
rise from his chair, his guts in a knot. Someone’s idea of a bad
joke?

"Sit down!" The gun motioned him back.
“NOW.”

Ian eased back into his chair. He focused on
the man facing him, but saw no one he recognized. Dark eyes
glittered behind the ski mask. It couldn’t be a robbery, MaryLou
always deposited any checks or cash on Fridays.