Murder In Her Dreams (2 page)

Surrounded by bright colors and the solid
reality of the Tea Room, Cassie’s dream images receded. Now, her
earlier fright seemed foolish, but she wanted and needed the
reassurance Tula would offer. Cassie tried to be self-reliant yet
could never match her friend’s confidence.

Looking at the menu, she tried to focus on
the food, but the images of the dream rabbit, though less distinct,
nagged her. Shifting in her chair, she placed the menu on the
table.

A few minutes later, Tula, her peasant blouse
dipping down on one brown shoulder and her African print skirt
swirling, swept into the room through the beaded curtain. She
carried a wooden tray with two yellow cups, a matching teapot, and
two plates of sandwiches. She nodded to Cassie as she passed on her
way to deliver the food to one of the couples in the front. When
finished, she joined Cassie, bringing the pleasant reality of the
cozy Tea Room with her as she slid onto the chair next to
Cassie.

Tula always reminded Cassie of Iman, the
model, with her tall, slim build and cafe au lait skin. Her elegant
bones made her one of the most beautiful women Cassie had ever met.
Her exotic aura promised many things.

By contrast, Tula always made her feel dumpy
and dowdy. Cassie knew she looked so normal, so ordinary, so ...
like the librarian she was. She hated appearing a stereotype, but
trendy clothes or those six-inch boots some wore made her
uncomfortable.

“Morning, stranger, how’s dharma?” Tula
flashed her a warm, gleaming smile.

Frowning, Cassie fingered her skirt and then
gazed up at her friend. “Fine, I think.”

Tula quirked an eyebrow at that. “You don’t
sound too sure. I’ll get us a pot of Tula’s Special and then we can
talk.” She patted Cassie’s hand and rose.

“Bring me a hummus sandwich too,” Cassie
called after her.

Tula nodded as she hurried off to the
kitchen. A few minutes later she returned with a large red teapot,
two matching cups, and Cassie’s pita pocket sandwich. The rich
aroma of mint and cloves scented the air.

After pouring them both cups of tea, Tula
handed one to Cassie. “All right, what’s so troubling this
morning?”

Cassie sipped the familiar spicy blend. “Ah,
nobody makes tea like you.” She set her cup down and rubbed one
hand with the other before looking up into Tula’s amber eyes. “I
... I had a dream.”

“We all dream.” She studied Cassie over the
rim of her cup as if expecting more. Her intense gaze always saw
too much for Cassie’s comfort.

Averting her eyes, Cassie focused on the
steam as it rose in a thin spiral from the dark surface of the tea.
The color of the tea reminded her of the eyes of the man in her
dream.

“This dream seemed so ... sort of real.
Frankly, it scared the hell out of me.” She shuddered.

“Scared you?” Tula arched an eyebrow as her
dark eyes searched Cassie’s face. “How?”

The image of the menacing rabbit hovered
before Cassie, but she waved a hand, and it fragmented and then
disappeared. She sighed. Better start at the beginning.

“First I saw this face, a man’s face.
Actually, quite a nice face. He was ... going to kiss me.” She gave
Tula a half smile.

“And?” Tula frowned. “That scared you?”

“No, of course not, but then this
rabbit...”

Tula’s eyes widened. “Rabbit? As in
bunny?”

Cassie shook her head. “Yeah, I know. A black
rabbit, but rabbit isn’t the right word for this ... this creature.
It had these large, sharp white teeth, curved claws, and ... it
attacked the man.” She quivered at the memory, seeing again the arc
of the rabbit’s lithe body as it leaped.

“So what happened?”

“I don’t know. I screamed and woke.” Cassie
stared down at her hands.

“Then why are you so upset?”

“I’m not sure.” She stopped and looked away.
Then, seeing no help for it, she took a deep breath. “I think it
might be like Ellie Latham again.” Her voice came out in low
whisper.

Tula sat back and studied Cassie’s face. Her
long fingers curled around her cup. “Oh, one of those dreams.”

Her eyes gazed at something far distant as
the slender fingers of her right hand caressed the gold sun pendant
she always wore. Spiky, triangular rays surrounded the sun disk.
Cassie could never remember seeing Tula without it.

“Did you recognize the man?”

“I’ve never seen him before or a creature
like this.”

“You’ve been watching too much television.
Night of the Lepus
aired a few weeks ago.”

Cassie grimaced. “You know me better than
that. I never watch that stuff.”

“Maybe the rabbit’s a symbol.”

“Symbols have always been hard for me.”
Cassie sighed. “Besides, if you ask me, it’s a lousy way to
communicate.”

Tula shook her head. “Both my cultures have a
rich history of symbols.” She sat, chin propped in one hand,
staring off into space for a moment.

“Umm, I’d start with the surface first and
worry about the symbols later. Since the man tried to kiss you, he
may represent your desire for a social life. It’s time you forgot
Rod and got out again.” She grinned at Cassie.

“Maybe your dream showed you the face of your
one true love.”

“Sure.” For a moment, the image of the man
held Cassie’s attention. “I’ll admit he wasn’t bad, but I’ve never
been partial to red hair or freckles.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Tula, my problem isn’t the man. It’s that
blasted rabbit.”

“The rabbit,” Tula muttered, almost to
herself, as she rubbed the sun disk “Seek the light, seek the
right.” Then, eyes sparkling, she gave Cassie a mischievous grin.
“Rabbits multiply, rapidly. Maybe the dream foretells you and the
man will have a large family.”

“I didn’t see any little rabbits.” Cassie
stared at Tula without seeing her. Instead, the awful rabbit filled
her vision. “This thing had teeth, the biggest, sharpest white
teeth. It meant to kill.” She shivered and rubbed her arms,
suddenly cold despite the hot tea.

Reaching over, Tula patted her hand. “Do you
want me to read the Tarot cards?”

The entry bell at the front rang, and Tula
rose. “I’m having my Ides of March party Friday. I want you to come
and meet a few new friends.”

Cassie hadn’t been to a party in almost a
year, not even one of Tula’s. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

“You need to get out, Cassie. These dreams
prove it. I’ll expect you. May you walk in light.” Tula’s hand slid
from the sun pendant as she hugged Cassie and then she hurried off
to greet her new customers.

Cassie leaned back and sipped her tea. Maybe
she should go to Tula’s party. It would be wonderful if the rabbit
wasn’t a threat, but her instincts rejected that. The dream had
been too intense and too real. The rabbit meant harm. Shuddering
again, Cassie clutched the teacup in front of her. The warmth of
the tea pulled her back to reality.

People, lively conversation, and good food.
Tula’s party would keep the rabbit and nightmares away. She might
even find the man of her dream and solve this crazy puzzle. Next
time, if she dreamed again, she vowed to control her dream and
change it.

Tula’s Special Blend always made the world
seen a brighter, better place. Cassie finished her sandwich in a
happier mood. Stopping to leave the money for her meal by the cash
register, she nodded to Tula as she left. Maybe Tula would see
something in the cards.

Friday could solve her problems. Cassie
snapped her fingers. So much for the rabbit and the man. She’d make
them disappear next time.

Chapter
Two

The setting sun bathed the office in a red
light and turned Ian McLeod’s rolled-up shirt sleeves almost as red
as the hair on his forearms. The freckles on his hands looked like
scattered drops of blood in the dying light. He moved his arm, and
the impression faded. Why should he have thoughts now about death
and dying? Morbid thoughts had no place in his mind, not now when
he planned to marry.

Outside, the red sunset faded to black. Ian
sighed and stretched. Reaping the rewards of his hard work gave him
a sense of satisfaction. He never regretted effort that brought
results.

His business formed the core of his life. All
through college, he had dreamed of starting his own company.
Working in the large accounting firm of Deloitte and Touche only
reinforced that desire. He wanted to control his life and his
business. After passing his CPA exams, he dedicated everything he
had to building the business.

Once he neared the goal and started to think
about a life beyond his business, his trusted right-hand man James
Harrison had robbed him of those dreams. Two years ago, when Ian
discovered Harrison’s theft from client accounts had almost bled
the business dry, a murderous rage had consumed him. Harrison’s
treachery nearly destroyed the company, but the man died before he
could face prison.

Harrison had done what all Ian’s competitors
failed to do. Ian’s business faced bankruptcy. Deceived by a man he
trusted hurt far more than the loss of the money. The money could
be replaced. His trust could not.

Everything Ian had believed in and relied
upon gave way beneath him, and he had scrambled to survive.
Depressed, he had struggled to find some path to recovery. It took
all Ian’s savings, loans from his mother, and a year of
concentrated work to cover the losses from Harrison’s theft.

At least he had acted and moved forward.
Angered by the betrayal, he had called the police to charge
Harrison with felony embezzlement, but the man’s untimely death
from a heart attack left Ian with no one to blame except himself.
Neither he nor the police found any trace of the missing money, and
he had been unwilling to sue the widow.

To his surprise, he discovered Harrison had
left her very little. Even their home had been heavily mortgaged.
She had been as shocked as Ian by the theft. He wished somehow he
could have helped her, but she had refused even to see him.

At his insistence, the insurance company had
paid her the full amount on Harrison’s policy. Much as Ian needed
money, he could not leave her destitute. Unfortunately, not long
after her husband’s death, she committed suicide.

The theft forced Ian to redouble his efforts
and put aside everything else. All in all, he congratulated himself
on putting things back together. He still hated Harrison for his
theft from the firm, but even more because he had stripped Ian of
control over his own destiny. Never again would anyone put him in
such a position.

The sudden snap of the pencil he held in his
hand startled him. Ian looked down in surprise at the jagged
pieces. He consciously focused to slow his breathing. Harrison was
dead and nothing could bring the lost money or him back. Now,
neither mattered.

The monthly reports told a satisfying story.
He smiled. His long hours had paid off. A few more clients like
Haskell Hardware and he could take some time off. The twelve and
fourteen hour days of the last year had grown old.

His mouth tasted stale. He sat back and
shrugged his shoulders, rolling his neck from side to side to
loosen the soreness there.

Ian placed the reports in the Out tray for
his administrative assistant, MaryLou Sanders, to file and left the
Haskell file on the credenza behind his desk. The computer screen
to his right still showed the last set of figures he had reviewed.
He hit a key to call up the screen saver and flying dollar signs
floated past.

Glancing at his watch, Ian saw he had time
for a quick microwave meal, but would have to wait until later for
any news. The local and the network newscasts annoyed him. The news
anchors’ hobbyhorses and causes bored him. He wanted his news
straight and undiluted. Nowadays, too many shows featured talking
heads spouting feel-good opinions and the latest fads. Sports got
plenty of play, but international news kept shrinking.

The sound of the door to his office opening
drew his attention. Ian looked up to see Sharon Arthur, his
fiancée, framed in the open door. Dressed in a pale green dress,
she epitomized cool elegance as she arched a perfect eyebrow at
him.

“I thought we had a date for dinner. You said
seven, didn’t you?”

“Seven?” Ian stared at her for a moment and
then frowned sheepishly. “Oh, seven.” He had completely forgotten
about dinner with Sharon. “What time is it?”

She held up her watch. “Seven forty-five. I
thought at first you’d gotten caught in traffic, but then at twenty
past I called the office.”

“You called? No one told me.”

Sharon gave a long-suffering sigh. “Justin
answered the phone and said you were still reviewing the reports. I
told him not to bother you.” She brushed her lips across Ian’s
cheek in a quick kiss. “Well, are we going to eat?”

“Oh sure, let’s grab a bite.” Ian rolled down
his shirtsleeves, tightened his tie, and then grabbed his suit
jacket off the brass hook from the back of the door. “How did you
get here? I thought you planned to leave your car at home.”

“I did. Karen dropped me at the restaurant on
her way home. I took a cab here. You know me. I don’t walk unless I
have no choice. Besides, these shoes aren’t exactly made for city
sidewalks.”

Ian glanced down at the high-heeled sandals
Sharon wore. Green like her dress, this pair consisted of nothing
more than a few straps of crisscrossed leather, soles, and
four-inch heels. He could not imagine walking in them, let alone
for several blocks.

Of the few women he knew well enough to
observe, only his mother refused to wear heels. She told him she
had grown too old for them and preferred her comfortable walking
shoes. Sharon had a thing about shoes, maybe not quite as bad as
Imelda Marcos or some celebrities, but close.