by Nell DuVall
“I’m sure you got it all sorted out.”
“Eventually.”
Ian sat at the breakfast counter. “My day started off with a bang.”
Sharon stared at him, the spoon she had been using to stir a large pot in one hand. “What does that mean?”
Ian picked up a cheese pinwheel from the plate of hors-d’oeuvres on the counter. “A stack of bricks fell off the roof and just missed me.”
Sharon set the spoon down. “Oh, Ian, are you serious? When?”
He nodded. “This morning as I was coming to work. If it hadn’t been for Cassie Blake, you might be seeing me at the hospital instead of here.”
“Cassie Blake?” Sharon frowned as if she found the name unpleasant. “Isn’t she the young woman who received that award last night?”
“One and the same. Lucky for me, she knocked me out of the way.” Ian popped the cheese pinwheel into his mouth.
“Well, I’m glad of that, but what was she doing there?”
“She had a dream.” He licked his fingers.
“A dream? Isn’t she the crazy woman you told me spilled coffee on your carpet?”
To his own surprise, Ian found the more he considered Cassie Blake’s view, the less bizarre it sounded. “Yes, but maybe she isn’t crazy.”
Sharon studied his face, frowning with pursed lips. “Did it occur to you that she might have arranged the whole thing?”
Sharon’s words hit him in the gut. He had considered that possibility, but he had also quickly rejected it.
“I don’t see how.” He frowned, remembering the morning. “The building was locked. How would she get a key? There’s no way she could have gotten onto the roof without a key. Besides, she was near me when the bricks fell. She tackled me to push me out of the way.”
“I don’t like it, Ian. She might have planned it with someone else.”
Remembering the frightened look in Cassie Blake’s eyes, he still couldn’t discount that. “Why? What would she have to gain?”
Sharon stared at him for a long minute and then looked at the pot on the stove. “She could be crazy like you first suspected or...” She looked back at him. “Maybe she wanted to meet you. How should I know?”
“We’d already met on at least three other occasions.”
Sharon turned back to the stove and removed the large pan. “It hadn’t worked out, so maybe she tried again.”
“I don’t think so, Sharon.”
Ian shifted on the stool. Being cast as Cassie Blake’s defender bothered him, and yet it appealed to him. So caring and little, she spent too much time worrying about other people, including him.
Sharon carried the pan to the sink and poured off the liquid. She then placed the asparagus spears on two plates before she faced him.
“Ian, it would be better if you didn’t see that woman again. You never know what crazy people will do.”
“Until she had these weird dreams, I had never met her. I don’t expect to see her again, but I am thankful she was there this morning.”
“Just a tad too convenient if you ask me.” Sharon removed a dish from the oven and set it on the counter next to the plates. “Have you selected your best man yet?”
He cursed himself for not having called David. He’d known she’d ask him. “I think my brother, David, will do.”
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 rig
ht 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.
Unable to think of any motive, he clutched at the man’s words. Finish some job? What job? All he could think of was that pile of bricks falling.
“The bricks ... You tried to kill me before?”
The man snorted. “Thanks to that Blake bitch that setup failed.” He raised his pistol a little higher. “But this one won’t.”
Blake bitch? Ian grabbed the edge of his desk. “Have you done something to Miss Blake?” The thought of little Cassie Blake facing this mysterious gunman twisted his gut.
“Just made sure she’ll be out of the way for a bit. Nothing for you to worry about. Besides, you won’t have any worries at all soon.”
Ian stared at the gun. “Why me?”
The gunman kept his pistol with the blue steel barrel trained on Ian as he rounded the desk. “Because, you bastard, you deserve it. I’ve waited a long time for this, and I’m going to enjoy every moment.”
Did the voice sound familiar? Ian grappled, trying to sort out whose voice had just that sort of inflection. He had to keep the man talking.
“We’ve got the death penalty now,” Ian said. “You can’t use the insanity plea anymore either.”