by Nell DuVall
At the light, he brooded again about McLeod. Too bad the coffee hadn’t worked. That damned bitch had interfered, but how had she known? He remembered the crumbled note from McLeod’s wastebasket. He’d told no one of his plans. How could she know? Was she some kind of mind reader?
The light changed, and he roared off just squeaking past the gray car in front before he reached the line of cars parked on the street ahead. He smiled as the driver behind hit his brakes, however the smile dimmed as he thought more about the coffee. It had been a dumb idea, and he cursed himself for his stupidity. Suspicion would naturally fall on someone with access to the office. He had covered his tracks well and could easily disappear again. Still, he wanted no loose ends that might lead back to him.
Maybe he hadn’t been so smart trying to run that bitch down either. He had been angry and had reacted too hastily. His major focus was McLeod, not some stupid bitch. If he’d been caught, he might have lost his chance to do in McLeod. His mother had always warned him his temper would get him into trouble. Anyway, he knew how to handle trouble.
He needed another way to kill McLeod, one that had no connection with him. He parked his cycle and hunched his shoulders as he walked along the sidewalk from the parking lot to McLeod’s office building. A commotion above startled him.
Several workers moved equipment around the rooftop. He had almost reached the door of the building when a broken brick hit the sidewalk just ahead of him.
“Hey,” he yelled. “What the fuck are you guys doing?”
A worker dressed in dusty gray coveralls and wearing a red baseball cap peered over the edge. “Oh, sorry, we didn’t think anyone would be here yet.”
“Well, I’m here.” Brad struck a belligerent pose as he glared upward. “You want me to sue you?”
“No way, buddy. I said I’m sorry. You okay?”
Brad made a show of brushing off his jacket. “I’m fine, but don’t do such a dumb ass thing again. Somebody might get killed.”
“Would you like a beer?” The worker wore an anxious look.
“A beer? What kind?”
“I got a can o’ Bud.”
“Yeah, sure, toss it down.”
The workman let the can drop, and Brad caught it neatly. “Thanks.” He waved the can at the worker. The man waved back.
Brad smiled as he entered the building. Now he had just the idea he needed. A little accident would take care of McLeod and wouldn’t be connected with anyone in the office at all.
Chapter Twelve
Ian had agreed to accompany Sharon to the annual Women in Communications award dinner. Inside the Hyatt Regency’s Grand Ballroom, he led Sharon to Table 3 near the dais at the front. As they worked their way through the crowd, he saw several clients as well as the CEOs of a few local companies among the men. He’d have time to talk with some of them later. He greeted those he knew and smiled at others he recognized.
Sharon surveyed the large crowd with interest. “I knew this would be a gala occasion, but I hadn’t expected to see so many tuxedos or all the sequins. Maybe you should have worn one.”
“I don’t think I’m the sequins type.” Ian grinned. “Besides, I don’t own a monkey suit.”
“I know.” Sharon sighed. “I considered asking you to wear one for the wedding, but gave it up as too formal.”
“Thank God.” Ian held Sharon’s chair for her.
Several other couples had already taken their seats. Once seated, Ian turned to the couple next to him and smiled as he recognized Heather and William Roston. Roston had been a client for a number of years.
“William, Heather, it’s a pleasure to see you both. Do you know my fiancée, Sharon Arthur?”
“How do you do?” Heather nodded at Sharon who smiled back. “Do you come often to these affairs?”
Ian shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m usually too busy although the firm supports the Literacy Council. Of course, who would pass up an opportunity to hear Laura Bush? I’ve always admired her. I only wish she had run for President instead of George.”
Heather smiled at that. “I certainly agree with you there. She has been a staunch advocate of efforts to support literacy initiatives. As a trustee for the Council, I would have come anyway, but Mrs. Bush makes it a double pleasure.”
“And the mousse, don’t forget that,” William added.
Heather smiled. “William has a fondness for the Hyatt’s White Chocolate Mousse.”
Ian grinned over at William. “So do I.”
A woman walked to the microphone and began to speak. “If I may have your attention just for a moment. Dinner will be served first, followed by several awards, and then our guest speaker. Enjoy your meal.”
A phalanx of servers entered the room and split into twos and threes as they advanced on groups of tables to begin serving the dinner. Salads already sat at each place, and the waiters offered the diners a choice of French or Ranch dressings.
“Be nice to Heather,” Ian whispered to Sharon as the server waited for Heather to indicate her choice of dressings, “Her husband is a client.”
Sharon nodded with a smile. “Should I ask them to the wedding?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Ian scowled. “I don’t like mixing my personal life with business. Besides, I thought we were keeping it to family.”
“Miss Arthur,” Heather began as she leaned forward to speak.
“Do call me Sharon.”
“Sharon, have you ever considered tutoring?”
“Tutoring?” Sharon eyed Ian, one eyebrow raised.
Heather nodded as she passed Ian the rolls. “The Literacy Council trains volunteers to teach reading. We can never find enough people.”
“Oh, my company supports the Council, but with our wedding coming up, I’m afraid I just don’t have the time right now,” Sharon responded.
Heather gave Ian a sly glance. “When is the big event?”
“May 15th.” Sharon smiled back as she placed her hand on Ian’s.
“Perhaps after you get back from your honeymoon, I could call you?”
Sharon picked up her salad fork. “Well, it depends on my job too. We’re planning a big campaign this summer.”
Ian, with no wish to antagonize Heather, interposed. “Sharon works at Star Bank. She’s in charge of their public relations.”
“Public relations?” Heather clapped her hands. “How wonderful. We could use some help in getting our message out to the public.”
Sighing, Sharon set her fork down again. “We do some pro bono work for some community agencies. I’ll talk to my boss about it.”
“How’s the family,” Ian asked in a belated attempt to rescue Sharon.
Heather chatted on about her three grandchildren while Sharon talked with the man seated next to her. William focused on his food with an occasional grunt of assent to some comment of Heather’s. The food lived up to the Hyatt’s usual standards especially the White Chocolate Mousse.
The servers efficiently cleared the tables, and the woman again approached the mike. “Tonight, Mrs. Bush has agreed to present our awards. As you all know, we single out those people who have made special contributions to our literacy efforts.”
While Mrs. Bush joined the woman and made a few general remarks, Ian’s attention wandered. He signaled a server for a second cup of coffee. Mrs. Bush presented awards to several men and women in recognition of various activities. The server had just refilled his cup when a name caught his attention.
“Cassie Blake.”
Ian jerked his head up. Sharon gave him a sharp glance, but the audience’s burst of applause drowned any comment. He stared at the young woman in a long floral dress as she mounted the steps to the dais platform. She wore her hair back in a long braid, but the face looked the same. Sure enough, he concluded, the very Cassie Blake who had served dinner to the homeless, but who had also invaded his office with her talk of rabid rabbits. Now, she smiled up at Laura Bush as she accepted the plaque.
Heather leaned over. “Do you know her? She’s one of our hardest working tutors.”
“I ... I’ve met her,” Ian acknowledged.
Sharon craned forward for a better view and then shifted her glance to Ian.
Leaning close, Heather drew his attention. “I can’t say enough about her. This Award is long overdue. I’m very fond of Cassie. She works in the Arlington Library you know.”
“Oh, yes?” Well, that fit Cassie all right, Ian thought.
He shifted in his chair, wondering if Heather knew about Cassie Blake’s dreams and weird obsession with him. He certainly didn’t want William or any of his other clients to think he allied himself with weirdos of any ilk. It could cost accounts.
Cassie Blake stepped to the microphone. “Thank you, Mrs. Bush, and the Columbus Literacy Council. I don’t know what to say. I’ve been so lucky. My students give me as much and more than I give them. One of my students, Maria Herman, has six grandchildren. Her family has been migrant workers all her life, and as a child, she had little time for school. She has always wanted her grandchildren to know and love the Bible, but she couldn’t read, and her daughter worked long hours. At night, her daughter was too tired to read to the children.
“Maria worried about her grandchildren, especially when her grandson got into trouble at school. She made up her mind to learn to read. I was lucky to have Maria as a student. Learning did not come easy for her, but she persisted. Today Maria not only reads to her grandchildren, but she too has become a tutor for others.
“This award belongs to people like Maria. They are worth all the time, effort, and money we can provide to give them the basic skills to survive in this competitive world. I thank you, Mrs. Bush, and the Columbus Literacy Council on their behalf.”
Ian watched as Cassie Blake clutched the plaque to her chest and hurried off the platform, looking not at all like a crazy woman obsessed with rabbits and the idea someone wanted to kill him.
* * * *
The photographer’s flash blinded Cassie for a moment as she started back to her table with slow steps. When she passed a table near the front her eye caught Heather Roston and her husband.
Heather smiled and held out her arms. “Cassie, I’m so pleased. No one deserves it more.” She enfolded Cassie and hugged her close.
Over Heather’s shoulder, Cassie started as she saw Ian McLeod studying her. She blushed, wondering what to say to him. At least the last time they met, he hadn’t gotten angry.
“Thank you, Heather.”
“Cassie, you know William, but have you met Ian McLeod and his fiancée, Sharon Arthur?”
Disappointment knifed through Cassie. While she had told Tula Ian probably had a girlfriend, secretly she had hoped he didn’t. Attracted to his dream image, she had found the real man at the Easter dinner irresistible. Uncertain what to say to him, she fumbled her plaque.
“Hello, Miss Blake. Congratulations on your award.” Ian smiled at her, reminding her of the man of her dreams. The one who’d wanted to kiss her.
The icy Sharon Arthur added her congratulations. Cassie stared, mesmerized by the green-eyed blonde at Ian’s side. She watched Sharon slip her arm under Ian’s, a clear message of her ownership.
“Thanks,” Cassie mumbled, confused and uncomfortable. “I ... I have to get back.”
She scurried off to her seat several tables away and sat down quickly. Her tablemates took the plaque and passed it around to oohs and ahs.
Tula, magnificent in a deep purple caftan with gold embroidery, hugged Cassie. “Sometimes, the good guys do get recognized.”
“Yeah, but I wish it had been a little less public.”
“Come on, Cassie, you’ll be able to tell your kids you received an award from Laura Bush.”
“If I ever have any.”
“You will — Tula knows.” Tula’s gold earrings, clusters of tiny bells, tinkled slightly as she shifted. Her knowing grin faded as she peered more closely at Cassie. “What’s the matter?”
Cassie stared down at the glass of ice water in front of her. “I just saw Ian McLeod.”
“Oh, the unbeliever.” Tula nodded. “Where’s he sitting?”
“In front of the stage. I had to walk right past them.”
“Oh, but why the long face?” Tula looked puzzled.
“And his gorgeous fiancée. I told you he’d have one.”
“They’re not married yet. What’s she like?”
“An ice princess, a cool, sophisticated blonde.”
“Probably has dark roots.” Tula fluffed her own rich, black hair fashioned into a dark nimbus that framed her face. “Maybe he really prefers the natural type, like you.”
Sighing, Cassie shook her head. “A bimbo I could deal with, but those sophisticated types intimidate me. They make me feel like a little kid playing dress-up.”
Tula narrowed her eyes as she studied Cassie. “Laura Ashley isn’t a bad model. Country English suits you. Always stick with the image you can live with.” She gave Cassie a generous smile. “You like him, don’t you? I said he’s the man of your dreams.”
Cassie snorted. “He’s in my dreams all right, but they’ve been nightmares, remember?”
“You have to make the dreams work for you. Dreams, even nightmares, resonate power. Either we control them or they control us. You have to decipher the message.”
“I’ve tried, Tula, I really have, but I can’t make any sense out of it.” She straightened her shoulders, not wanting to spoil the banquet. “Anyway, I haven’t had anymore.”
“You’ve met Ian McLeod. That’s a good first step.”
“Yeah, and he thinks I’m crazy. Anyway, with a fiancée like Sharon Arthur around, why look at someone like me?”
“I wouldn’t be too certain of that, if I were you.” Tula smiled, her eyes gleaming.
* * * *
Ian found his glance straying toward Cassie Blake where she sat with her friends. With her hair back, her high cheekbones lent her face an air of sedate elegance he hadn’t noticed before. Her blue eyes had startled him with their innocent directness. He found it hard to believe this was the same woman he had escorted from his office and had told MaryLou to keep out.
Tonight, like the Easter dinner, she appeared perfectly normal. Was she trying to set him up? Why and for what? She had caught his attention all right, but to what end? What could she hope to gain? He wanted to keep his guard up, but somehow she kept forcing herself on his attention.
Heather’s warm endorsement echoed Jane Wentz’s. Like Jane, Heather worked on a lot of causes, but he knew her as a hardheaded realist. She had no patience with slackers or would-be do-gooders who talked, but never accomplished anything.
For a brief moment, he wondered if there could be any truth to Cassie Blake’s warning. Rabid rabbits? The very sound of the words made him want to laugh. Poisoned coffee in his own office? No way. He rejected both ideas as too fantastic. No one else in the office had gotten sick, and everybody except Mary Lou drank the coffee. Somewhere along the line, Miss Cassie Blake had a weird fixation, but she hid it well.
“Ian.” Sharon tugged at his arm. “Did you hear what I said?”
“What?” He pulled his thoughts away from Cassie Blake and turned to stare at Sharon, wondering what she had said to him.
“I asked you if that woman with the award was the same one you told me about. You know, the one who threatened you.”
“She didn’t threaten me. She tried to warn me about someone she said planned to kill me.”
Sharon looked startled. “Kill you? I thought you said it was a rabbit?”
“Look Sharon, I’d rather not discuss it now.”
“But was it the same woman?”
Ian sighed. “Yes. I want to hear Mrs. Bush, so let it rest.”
Sharon subsided, but Ian knew she wasn’t satisfied. Neither was he. He found it hard to reconcile this Cassie Blake and the one he had worked with at the Easter Dinner with the raving lunatic in his office. Well, n
ot exactly raving, but not rational either.
The audience laughed, and Ian tried to concentrate on Mrs. Bush’s words, but he kept seeing Cassie Blake’s startled blue eyes as she stared at him over Heather’s shoulder. She had looked frightened, but of what? Did she fear him? Why? That he would tell Heather about her behavior? Or did she fear for him?
No one had any reason to want him dead. He hadn’t lost any money for his clients. He hadn’t fired anyone. He hadn’t gotten involved with someone’s wife or girlfriend. No one had a reason to kill him.
The police always looked for a motive. Miss Blake had to have one unless she had a screw loose somewhere. Could she be working with someone? But who and why? He didn’t like the circular path his thoughts took. He had discovered no answers, only more questions.
Dreams and rabbits. None of it made any sense. If only his picture hadn’t been in the paper. Maybe then, he could have given her story some credence, but it made no sense. No sense at all. Perhaps Miss Blake had been under too much stress. He had never thought of a library as a stressful place, but who knew? Or maybe she had just broken up with a boyfriend. Well, it wasn’t his problem anyway.
He glanced over at Sharon. She had a frown on her face and stared down at her empty coffee cup. Maybe he shouldn’t have cut her off so abruptly. She wasn’t to blame for his confusion.
“Sharon,” he whispered, “I’m sorry. We’ll talk later.”
She nodded and then smiled at him as she patted his hand.
Cassie Blake tugged at his attention. She intrigued him, both because of her peculiar behavior and her caring. She cared deeply about people. He had seen that for himself. He found her attractive too. Not in the cool, elegant way of Sharon, but in the cozy warmth of her spirit and in the relaxed charm of her looks. He could easily see Cassie as a mother, but still couldn’t see Sharon in that role despite what she had said.
If it weren’t for his engagement to Sharon and that bit about the rabbit, he might have tried to make friends with Cassie Blake. The more he learned about her, the better he liked her. Since she hadn’t said anything more about rabbits tonight, perhaps she had gotten over her dreams. The laughter of the audience at some remark by Mrs. Bush jerked Ian’s attention back to her speech.