Falling Awake (32 page)

In the back row, Tamsyn sagged in her chair, apparently resigned to disaster.

“What’s context?” the bearded man demanded.

Isabel turned to him. “I am talking about what is going on with you in your own life. Are you facing a major career decision? If so, maybe that door does represent a fear of change or having to make a choice. But deal with the decision-making process while you are awake. Don’t look to your dreams for solutions. A decision that appears rational and right in a dream is actually quite arbitrary and may be entirely wrong for the waking world. Dreaming and waking thought are two different states of mind, literally.”

“I thought this class was supposed to be about tapping into our dreams to get creative answers,” someone whined from the fifth row.

Another phone warbled. A man in the tenth row dove into his pocket to respond.

In the back, Tamsyn put her face in her hands.

Let me out of this nightmare,
Isabel thought. But she knew there was no escape. She couldn’t even tell herself that she would eventually wake up and discover it was all just a dream. She was trapped.

e
llis slipped the twenty-dollar bill across the counter. The plump, good-natured café owner made it disappear into the pocket of her apron. She had told him that he could call her Daisy.

“All I know is that the doc was real regular in his habits.” Daisy leaned forward a little, providing a view of her generous cleavage. “He ate his dinner here, same as usual on that night. Had the special. On Thursday nights he always ordered the special. Turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy. It was his favorite.”

“He didn’t look ill?”

“Looked fine to me.” Daisy shrugged well-upholstered shoulders. “But that’s the way it is with a heart attack, ain’t it? One minute you’re fine. The next, you’re a goner.”

“Not always,” Ellis said softly. “In a lot of cases there are prior symptoms. Nausea. Shortness of breath. Chest pain.”

“If he was having any of those things, he didn’t let on. Ate every bite. Doc had a good appetite. One of my best customers.”

“Do you know where he went after he left here that evening?” Ellis asked, dutifully making a note on a pad of paper.

“Sure. Said he was headed straight back to his office at the center. That’s where they found him, wasn’t it? Dead at his desk?”

“Yes,” Ellis said.

“Doc hardly ever went home. Had a real problem with insomnia, you know.” Daisy tut-tutted. “Told me once he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in forty years, poor man.”

“I see.” Ellis finished the bad coffee and got to his feet. He should have brought along some bags of green tea, he thought. Evidently he had become addicted to the stuff at some point during the past few months. “Thanks for the information.”

Daisy squinted a little. “Mind if I ask why you wanted to know what Doc had to eat that night?”

“I’m retracing his movements on the day of his death.”

“Yeah? How come?”

“Insurance investigation,” Ellis said. “My boss wants me to be sure it wasn’t suicide. Company doesn’t pay out on suicides.”

“Damned insurance companies. Always looking for a way to get out of paying.” Daisy snorted. “I’ll tell you one thing. Doc wouldn’t have taken his own life. Leastways, not that night.”

Ellis tried not to look too interested. “What makes you so sure?”

“He was real excited about something he was working on at the time.”

“Did he talk about the project?”

“Not to me, he didn’t. But he had a couple of meetings here with a tall guy who looked like he’d gone through a windshield sometime in the past few months. Had some bad scars on his face, right about here, you know?” She tapped her forehead and jaw. “Wore his hair sort of long and he looked like he was trying to grow a beard to hide the scars.”

Ellis kept his expression polite and as casual as possible. “Any idea what they discussed at the meetings?”

“Nope. Sat over there in the corner booth and talked real quiet like. But I could tell they were both real intense and Doc was excited. If he was gonna commit suicide, you’d think he would have waited until after he finished his special project.”

Ellis pocketed his notebook. “Sounds like a logical assumption.”

a
fter what seemed like an eternity, the class finally ended. Tamsyn made her way forward while the students surged toward the exits.

Isabel slumped against the podium. “You don’t have to tell me, I know I was terrible.”

“Not terrible,” Tamsyn said, speaking very precisely. “It was a very
interesting
talk.”

“One man in the front went to sleep. Everyone else looked like they were thinking about lunch or picking up their voice mail messages.”

“Okay, there were some dry parts, but we can work on those.”

“I appreciate your positive attitude, but we might as well face facts here. I don’t have your flair for this type of work. It was kind of you and Leila to talk Farrell into giving me the opportunity, but I think it’s clear that I don’t have what it takes to be a Kyler Method instructor.”

“You can do it, Isabel,” Tamsyn said, shifting into full Kyler Method mode. “Let’s go over your presentation points before the next class.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Isabel gathered up her notes. “I’m going to talk to Farrell right now and let him know that I’m resigning. Something tells me that he’ll be thrilled.”

r
andolph Belvedere felt as if he had just found out he might be holding a winning lottery ticket. He struggled not to let his desperate hope show on his face.

“Are you telling me that my father took out a large life insurance policy?” he asked, stacking his hands on the desk in what he thought looked like a calm, centered, controlled pose. The truth was, his fingers were shaking so badly he was afraid the dangerous-looking insurance investigator might think he had a tremor.

The man seated on the other side of the desk had introduced himself as Charles Ward. When Mrs. Johnson had shown him into the room a few minutes ago, Randolph’s first thought was that Ward didn’t look like an insurance company employee. His suit was expensive but it was cut along Euro-sleek lines, not the
traditional, conservative, more boxy style favored by most American businessmen.

But it wasn’t Ward’s clothes that worried him, it was Ward himself. The suit might have come from Italy, but Ward looked like he came from the wrong side of the tracks.

“All I am allowed to say is that I am looking into the circumstances of Dr. Belvedere’s death,” Ward said, making it clear that he was not about to give out unauthorized information. “If my findings warrant further action, someone else will contact you to discuss the details of the policy.”

“I see.” Randolph pressed his right hand very tightly on top of his left. “Can you tell me whether or not the policy is a large one?”

“Let’s just say that I’m expensive.” Ward smiled enigmatically. “The company doesn’t send me out to investigate a claim unless the policy is large enough to make it worthwhile to hire me.”

“I understand.” Randolph realized that his mouth had suddenly gone very dry. He had to swallow a couple of times before he could continue. “Well then, what is it you want to verify?”

“Cause of death.”

Randolph’s first reaction was bewilderment. “There’s no question about that. My father died of a heart attack.”

“I’m sure that’s correct,” Ward said easily. “But with so much money at stake, my company wants to be absolutely certain.”

“What other possibility is there?”

“Suicide.”

“Are you crazy?” Randolph was dumbstruck. “My father would never have taken his own life.”

“Relatives often say that. It’s amazing how few people see it coming.”

Randolph shook his head once, absolutely certain. “My father lived for his research.” He grimaced. “I’ll be the first to admit that he was very much on the fringes of his field, but that doesn’t change the fact that he believed in his work. He wouldn’t have taken his own life.”

“The center does sleep research,” Ward pointed out calmly. “I’m assuming that means that your father would have had access to a variety of sleep medications, some of which are probably experimental, right?”

Randolph ground his back teeth. “I assure you, my father did not conduct experiments on himself.”

“You probably knew him better than anyone else.” Ward shrugged. “But my employer wants me to ask a few questions. I’m supposed to talk to some of the people who were working here the night he died. Just routine stuff. The sooner I file my report, the sooner the company pays off. Any objections?”

“Not at all. I’ll make sure that my secretary alerts the staff. Feel free to talk to anyone you like. You’ll soon find out that I’m telling you the truth. My father did
not
commit suicide.”

Ward stood and picked up his briefcase. “Got a hunch you’re right about that.”

g
ood news, Farrell, I think I’m going to make at least one of your dreams come true.” Isabel closed the door of the inner office and sat down in one of the leather chairs. “I’m quitting.”

Farrell looked up from the papers he had spread out on the desk, blank-faced with surprise. “Why?”

“Because I have no talent for this work. None whatsoever. I just came from my first lecture and I can tell you that it is a miracle that half the class managed to stay awake.”

“I see.” Farrell sat back, thoughtful now. “Leila won’t be happy to hear this.”

“Yeah, well, my family has never approved of my career choices, you know that.”

“Probably because you’ve never actually had what anyone would call a real career.”

“Enough about me,” she said evenly. “Let’s talk about you.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be paid for the time you put in as a trainee instructor.”

“I’m not worried about my paycheck. Well, I am, of course, but that’s another issue. At the moment I’m a lot more concerned about you and Leila. I told myself I should stay out of it.” She sighed. “But I just can’t seem to help myself. What’s wrong?”

He stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Farrell, it’s been clear to me from the start that you only hired me because Leila and Tamsyn put pressure on you.”

His mouth thinned. “I admit I wasn’t real keen on the idea of a creative dreaming seminar. Sounded a little too metaphysical and New Agey for the Kyler Method.”

“There’s more to it than that. You’ve been trying to avoid me ever since I got here. When we do come face to face you act like you have an appointment elsewhere. On top of that, my sister is very unhappy. What’s going on, Farrell?”

“Keep your voice down.” Farrell glanced toward the closed door. “I don’t want Sheila to overhear you. We try to maintain a positive, businesslike image around here. The last thing I need is a major scene in my office.”

“I’ve got news for you; if you don’t tell me what’s going on, you’re going to get a full-blown family quarrel right here in your executive suite.”

Farrell studied her speculatively for a few seconds. “You’d do it, wouldn’t you?”

She straightened her shoulders. “Yes, I would.”

“You’re right, you know. This is none of your business.”

“I love Leila and I care about you. We’re family. What do you expect me to do?”

“Try to fix things, of course.” He shoved himself up out of his chair and went to stand at the window. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? Give advice to other people?”

The bitterness in his words made her go very, very still.

“Farrell?” she prompted gently. “Are you seriously ill? Because if that’s the case, you must know that Leila loves you and would want to be there for you, just as you would be there for her.”

“I’m not ill.”

“Thank God.” She relaxed slightly. “But I don’t understand. What else could possibly be so terrible that you would be afraid to talk it over with Leila?”

He stared glumly out the window at the elegant lines of the lobby of Kyler headquarters. “It’s all coming apart, Isabel.”

“What is coming apart?”

“Everything I’ve built during the last four years. That dream I had, the one you and Leila convinced me to make real, has become a nightmare.”

She watched him uneasily. “Define ‘nightmare.’ ”

“I’m overextended financially. I’ve got some big loan payments coming up in three months and I don’t have the cash reserves to
make them. Kyler, Inc., is headed straight into bankruptcy. I’m on a runaway train and I don’t know how to stop it.”

“Are you telling me that this is just a business problem?”

He swung around to stare at her. “
Just
a business problem?”

“I was afraid it was something really serious.”

“For your information, this is about as serious as it gets. But I guess I can’t expect you to see it that way, can I? You’re the one member of the family who isn’t interested in success, the one whose idea of investing is to buy thousands of dollars’ worth of furniture, store it in a rental locker and drop the insurance, the one whose big, long-term goal is to set herself up as a psychic dream consultant. Sure, I can see why you wouldn’t be overly concerned about a little thing like bankruptcy.”

She cleared her throat. “I’m going to let that go for now because, well, because you’re sort of right. But neither my current financial situation nor my career objectives are the issue here. And, no, I’m sorry, Farrell, but I don’t think your business problems are anywhere near as serious as your marriage, and I can guarantee you that Leila will take the same point of view. Why haven’t you told her you’re in trouble?”

“Don’t you understand? I’m supposed to be Mr. Perfect. The man her daddy approved of right from the start.” He jabbed at his chest with his thumb. “I’m the guy who goes on television talk shows and tells people that if they follow my method they can become successful, just like me.”

“You can’t possibly believe that Leila only married you because you’re a success and Dad gave his approval.”

Farrell exhaled deeply. “I know that’s not the sole reason she married me. But I’m also damn sure she wouldn’t have looked twice at a guy who dug ditches for a living.”