Murder In Her Dreams

by Nell DuVall

  McLeod drank a lot of coffee. Yes, poison would be the easiest, but a poison that worked fast enough the rescue squad couldn’t save him. McLeod deserved something painful, agonizing, and excruciating. Narrowing his eyes, Brad smiled. He knew just the thing for the job.

  Chapter Five

  That evening, the image of Ian McLeod floating before her made Cassie dread bedtime. In her heart, she had known the dreams came as a warning about McLeod’s future, and she had halfway dismissed them. The rabbit added that touch of lunacy that removed her dream from reality. However, finding Ian McLeod’s picture in the Columbus Dispatch refuted that reasoning. She could not have invented his face. The newspaper picture proved he existed separate from her dream.

  Before bed, she tried to distract her mind with a series of old movies starring Fred Astaire — Damsel in Distress and Swing Time — and largely succeeded. She especially like the fun house scene with George Burns and Gracie Allen. She had no idea either of them could dance.

  The last thing she remembered was the opening credits for The Great Man Votes with John Barrymore.

  * * * *

  The moon shone with a crystal clarity that cast long black shadows. The jagged cornstalks, like those Cassie’s dreams of Ellie, marched away in endless rows. Her warm breath made a small white cloud in the crisp air.

  Fighting against the relentless tread of her feet, she wanted to go anywhere but straight ahead. The landscape, the moon, the very air brought back all her bitter memories of Ellie Latham.

  As she walked, fallen stalks crunched underfoot, shedding bits of stale dry, dust. She sneezed. Cassie struggled to suppress the anxiety hovering over her and to turn away, but a force pushed her forward.

  As she neared the center of the field, a dark lump resolved into a body, but larger than Ellie Latham. As the details solidified, this figure, clad in jeans, appeared masculine.

  When Cassie reached the head, she recognized the red hair and face of Ian McLeod. His outstretched hand clutched a white foam cup. Brown liquid trickled over the edge of the cup and then turned dark red under the bright moonlight. McLeod’s staring eyes, like Ellie Latham’s, reflected the white moon above.

  A scritching noise drew Cassie’s attention.

  She turned to see the black rabbit. It loomed larger than the last time she had seen it, more the size of a Bulldog. The moon made the rabbit’s long white teeth look sharper, almost pointed. Its staring eyes glowed a phosphorescent green.

  Cassie reached toward McLeod’s outstretched hand. The creature’s ominous rumble became a deep warning growl. As it grew louder, the rabbit bared its teeth at her. It raised itself on its haunches, poised to spring. Then it leaped.

  Paralyzed, she couldn’t move, couldn’t run. Fear held her fast. The rabbit’s fetid breath made her gasp.

  “NO!" she screamed.

  * * * *

  Waking in her own bed, Cassie lay still for a moment making sure where she was and then reached over to snap on the bedside lamp. The comforter lay on the floor, and her blanket hung off one side of the bed. Sweat matted her hair to her forehead. Her heart beat against her chest like a kettledrum in the climax to the 1812 Overture. She drew in deep breaths of air, trying to relax and slow her throbbing pulse.

  The man and the rabbit again, but this time Ian McLeod lay dead or dying. What did it mean? Had the dream already happened or was it about to happen? Had someone killed Ian McLeod or did they plan to kill him? That dratted rabbit again. Only this time it appeared bent on preventing her from touching McLeod. Why?

  So much for Tula’s ‘your one true love’ and ‘happily ever after’ theory.

  Rabbits didn’t growl. Dogs growled, even cats, but not rabbits. She had heard of dying rabbits screaming. These dreams got crazier and crazier. Her subconscious had gone into overdrive, but the message it sent only confused her.

  Cassie remade the bed and climbed back in it. The clock read 4 a.m. No way could she sleep. She didn’t want to see the rabbit or the dead man again. She lay back on the pillows brooding over what the dream meant, if it meant anything at all. Why should the dreams of Ellie have been so clear and these visions so confusing? Common sense told her the rabbit couldn’t be real, but she had no idea what it symbolized.

  The image of the red liquid only added to her anxiety.

  The alarm went off at seven and shrilled her awake. No more dreams had troubled her after the one that woke her just before four.

  She got up feeling groggy and wrung out. Not a good start for the day. Even her customary cup of tea did nothing to help. Outside, dark rain clouds added to her gloom. Where was the sun when she really needed it?

  Somehow at work she got though the long morning. Just before eleven, Tracy Bolin and her mother came into the reading room. Tracy waved to Cassie, and she waved back before returning to the Hornbook and the Library Journal book reviews.

  At eleven-thirty, Cassie put away her work and left for lunch. The weather had cleared and the bright sun made her don her sunglasses. Luck was with her, and she had no trouble finding a parking place only a block away from Tula’s Tea Room.

  Kinesha, Tula’s waitress, greeted Cassie and seated her. “How yo’ doing today, Cassie? Nice day out there.” Pretty and plump, Kinesha’s warm smile, brilliant against her brown skin, lifted Cassie’s spirits.

  “It is now with the rain’s gone. I’ll have the avocado sandwich and a pot of tea. Please tell Tula I’d like to see her when she has a minute.”

  “You got it.” Kinesha hurried off in answer to the bell as two more customers entered.

  Cassie sat at her usual table near the kitchen. A few minutes later, Tula came out with a tray, a red pot of Tula’s Special, two cups, and Cassie’s avocado and sprout sandwich. Tula unloaded the tray and poured tea for each of them.

  “I think you’re right about getting a social life.” Cassie smiled at her friend. “The celibate life is getting to me.”

  Grinning, Tula raised her cup and sipped the steaming tea. “Good, then you can meet my new friend.” Her eyes sparkled over the rim of her cup.

  “New friend? As in male?” Cassie teased. Willowy and striking, Tula met, dated, and discarded men with almost boring regularity. “How long will this one last?”

  “Umm, not sure about that. He has... Let’s say he has distinct possibilities.”

  “Seems you said that last time. You can introduce me on Friday.” Cassie grinned at her.

  “You’ll come then?”

  “I guess so. Anyway, I found out the name of the dream man.”

  “Oh?” Tula paused in refilling her cup to study Cassie’s face.

  “Ian McLeod, an up-and-coming young businessman.”

  “Married?” The familiar smell of cloves and mint filled the air.

  “Uh,” Cassie stirred her tea in a figure eight, “I don’t think so, but he’s probably got a girlfriend. All the good ones do.”

  “So?” Tula leaned forward, an avid gleam in her amber eyes. “He’s a good one? What are you going to do about him?”

  “Nothing.” Cassie stared down at the steaming surface of the tea.

  “Come on, Cassie, why not?”

  She looked up at her friend. “What in the hell could I say to him? A rabbit wants to kill you?” She shook her head. “He’d never believe it. I’m not sure I believe it.”

  Leaning back, Tula grinned and touched the rays of the sun pendant. “It sounds strange, but you know the rabbit stands for something or someone. You just have to figure out what.”

  Cassie nodded. “Yeah, but I haven’t made much progress so far.”

  “You are going to tell him.” Tula made it a statement, not a question as she rubbed her pendant.

  “I don’t know.”

  Tula sighed and shook her head. “Then if something happens to him, how will you feel?”

  “Lousy, but what can I tell him?”

  Shrugging her eloquent shoulders, Tula sipped her tea and then set the cup down. “I don’t
know, but you have to warn him. You had a bad enough time over the Latham child. I know you don’t want to repeat that.”

  Cassie froze, her cup halfway to her mouth. The new dreams brought back all the old pain and guilt. She hadn’t listened to those visions until too late. She had let Rod’s scoffing keep her from acting. Ellie Latham had died, and she had been responsible for the child’s death. Cassie couldn’t bear the thought of being responsible for another death. That Tula put it into words only made it worse. Cassie set the cup down with a thunk.

  Taking Cassie’s hand in both of hers, Tula squeezed gently. “I’m sorry, Cassie, but you hurt so bad when you found out she hadn’t died until after your second dream. You gave yourself hell for not telling the police the first night. I don’t want to see you put yourself through that again. Call him or send him a note. Just do something.”

  Swiping at her eyes, Cassie nodded. “You’re right. I hate the thought of a stranger thinking I’m a kook.”

  “But at least he won’t be dead.” Tula leaned forward. Amber eyes held Cassie in a steady gaze. “You know, my friend, you have a responsibility. Those who dream must act or accept the blame for not acting. When gifts are given, we’re obliged to use them well. Even your religion teaches that.”

  Cassie pulled an embroidered handkerchief from her pocket, dabbed at her eyes, and blew her nose. “Oh Tula, don’t start quoting the Bible at me. You don’t believe in it.”

  “It isn’t a matter of whether I’m a believer or not. It’s a holy book and holds many truths, although I’ll admit it has a few untruths as well.” She gave Cassie a wicked grin.

  “Yeah, take what you want and toss the rest.” She grinned back at Tula as she shoved the wadded handkerchief into her pocket. Her face grew solemn again. “I guess you’re right about the responsibility. I have these dreams for a reason. I just wish someone else had them... Ian McLeod maybe. After all, they’re about him. He and his rabbit have no business messing up my life.”

  “Well, once you’ve warned him, you should be in the clear, and the dreams will probably go away.”

  “I hope so. All right, I’ll send him a note. Thanks for letting me vent on you.”

  “Hey what are friends for? Just be sure you come Friday.”

  “No fear, I have to meet your new man.” Cassie grinned, and Tula swept off to greet a customer standing by the entrance.

  After finishing her lunch, Cassie hurried back to work. On her break that afternoon she penned a quick note with a warning to Ian McLeod on a page from a three by five pad and got it in the mailbox just before the mail carrier arrived. She breathed a deep sigh and mentally said good-bye to him and his rabid rabbit.

  Rabid rabbit? Not bad. She would have to think up something for Jimmy Wilson that used those words. Keeping even one step ahead of the kids these days grew harder and harder. Between computer and video games, they knew technology better than most adults. She just wished they would read a few books too. She had managed to interest some of the game players in a few of the mythology books. Of course, almost all of them had read the Harry Potter series or seen the movies. Then there were all those Greek heroes and Scandinavian gods.

  In a happier frame of mind, Cassie returned to take her stint on the main Reference Desk located on the lower level of the library. The desk sat at the far end of the room with several tall ranges of shelves adjacent to it that held the bulk of the ready reference collection. The floor-to-ceiling shelves lining both sides of the long rectangular room held other books and printed indexes.

  More and more, the library used online databases. Two long tables in front of the reference desk provided space for readers using the reference collection and workstations for accessing electronic reference tools. Only one workstation was in use.

  Cassie sat down at the reference desk and checked to see if Kelly Jones had left any unanswered questions. She hadn’t, but the usual pile of search requests filled the box. Still, she hoped to check out the Roget entry for rabid. She got up from the desk and started toward the reference shelves when a middle-aged man approached.

  “I’m not much for these machines here,” he said, pointing to the computer workstations. “I need some data on a company, Innovative Fixtures. Does the library have anything?”

  “We have a number of business publications and a few financial databases. What sort of data do you need?”

  “Um, I guess how much money it makes and what dividends it pays.”

  “Let’s try a search.” Cassie wondered how much he knew about investing and the stock market.

  She sat down at one of the workstations and did a quick search on the company name. A list of articles and topics appeared. She chose one with basic statistics on the company and hit print.

  “If you follow me, I’ll give you a copy.”

  She retrieved the printed page for the man and handed it to him. “After you check this you may want to follow up with some of the electronic indexes on the computers next to the reference desk. Magazine Index and Reader’s Guide both index Fortune and Forbes. We also have newspaper indexes such as the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal. If you need help or don’t find what you need, let me know.”

  The man nodded and peered at the page. “This is fine, thanks. Guess I may have to learn how to use those dang machines after all.”

  Cassie smiled at him and returned to the reference desk. At least no teenagers occupied the workstations. The library blocked games and porn sites from its system. However, new such sites cropped up all the time. Those who wanted to chat, do email, or extended searches were referred upstairs to other workstations.

  Some people found online searching overwhelming. Learning to limit searches to the relevant items often proved time consuming and led some to rely instead on the librarians. She picked up the batch of search requests and began processing them.

  From all appearances, Cassie wouldn’t have to worry about getting bored today. She retrieved Roget’s Thesaurus. She wanted to look up rabid before Jimmy Wilson showed up. Before she had time to open the book, a neatly dressed, elderly woman approached her.

  She gave Cassie a tentative smile. “I’m ... uh, researching my family history and need to check some birth records.”

  Quite a few library patrons worked on family genealogies. The library had some basic tools, but serious researchers almost always ended up going to the Ohio Historical Society.

  Cassie sighed. “Birth records before the 1940s are kept at the Ohio Historical Society Library.”

  “I’ve already been there,” the woman said. “No, I need recent records.”

  “What period are you looking for?”

  “The late Seventies or early Eighties” She paused a moment, hesitating. “It’s...” She looked around, but no one stood near them. Apparently satisfied, she turned back to Cassie.

  “It’s about someone who claims to be my grandson. My daughter moved away for a while, and we lost track of her. Somehow she got mixed up with a bad crowd, then ... uh, she died. Well, last week this young man showed up on my doorstep. He says he’s my grandson.”

  “Just what are you looking for?” Cassie wondered how she could help the woman.

  “I thought maybe I could get a birth certificate. Don’t all births have to be registered? I thought the doctors or the hospitals did that.”

  “Yes, they do. The records are either kept at the Ohio Bureau of Vital Statistics or by the Columbus Department of Health downtown.”

  “Will they give me a copy of the record?”

  “If you have the right information and pay the fee. Usually they want the city of birth, the date of birth, and the names of the child, the mother, and the father.”

  A frown creased the woman’s broad face. “I’m not sure about the father.”

  “The Columbus Health Department has a form you fill out. Then they search the records. Why don’t you try them?”

  “Umm, I’ll ... do that.” The woman rose and started to walk away, then
stopped. “Do they show color on the records?”

  “What?” Cassie stared at the woman. “Color?”

  “Yes, you know, black, white, or whatever.”

  Cassie blinked. “Oh, racial background. I don’t think so. It’s against the law to keep that data anymore.”

  The old woman shook her head. “This boy looks too dark to be my daughter’s. I think he only wants my money.”

  Her words made Cassie feel sorry for her. So many took unfair advantage of the elderly, especially if money was involved. She wanted to help this lady, but didn’t know what to advise her. “Maybe you should talk to the police or hire a private detective.”

  “I’m not ready to do that. I keep family matters private.”

  “Well, you can check on the birth certificate. Here, let me write the address down for you.” Cassie pulled out a notepad and copied the address from the ready reference file. “It’s at 181 Washington Boulevard.” She handed the paper to the woman.

  “I’ll do that. Thank you, Miss.” The woman put the paper in her purse and nodded to Cassie..

  This lady showed good sense in checking out the young man. Cassie hoped she would find what she needed from the birth records. If the daughter had a child, all the woman would get would be verification of that, not whether the boy in question was really her daughter’s child unless, the birth certificate showed a girl instead of a boy. The old woman would have to take the young man on faith.

  Then it occurred to Cassie there was another way. DNA testing could tell whether the young man came from the same family. The trouble with that, however, would be the cost and getting a sample. Cassie sighed. The woman hadn’t given her name.

  Patrons with questions kept coming. Then, once school ended, the noise level went up and kids took over the library terminals. Cassie spent much of her time reminding the courting couples to cool it and the rappers to practice elsewhere. She also had to shoo off a few boys who spent a long time searching for games. Tying up the terminals annoyed the other patrons. A gentle reminder soon solved that.