Destination Murder
Page 16
“Cream is always a good dog.” She went to collect the mail, sorting through it one piece at a time. A lot of it could wait for later. The last envelope, however, caught her attention.
“What is it?” Jerry asked her, seeing the look on her face.
“It’s a letter,” she said. “From the cruise line.”
“Oh? Are you sure?”
“Yes, dear. I know how to read.”
“Well, then what’s it say?”
She opened it up and took out the pages from inside. Reading the letter to herself, and then reading it again, she smiled.
“It’s a thank you letter,” she told Jerry. “And an invitation. Two tickets to take a trip with them whenever we like. Open dates. They say it’s an apology for everything.”
“Well, imagine that.” He was reading over her shoulder now. She felt his hands slip over her shoulders. “Hey, you know what I’m thinking.”
Resting her body back against his chest, she relaxed into his touch. “You’re thinking,” she said, “that a cruise might be a fun place for a wedding.”
“I just happen to know a captain who would be happy to marry us. He sort of owes us a favor.”
Cookie closed her eyes, looking forward to a future together with Jerry.
“That sounds perfect,” she told him. “Just like you.”
“Just like us, you mean.”
She turned in his arms, and kissed him deeply.
***
From a deep sleep, Cookie awoke with a start. There had been a dream she was having. Something terrible. Something disturbing enough that she had snapped awake instantly. Sitting up in bed she looked all around her room, trying to focus her eyes in the dark.
“Jerry?” She reached out to his side, but he wasn’t there. Shouldn’t he be here? Oh, no. Wait. That’s right. He was working a late shift. She sighed, and tried to lay down to go back to sleep.
Scratch scratch scratch.
The sound of little dog claws trying to get her attention at the apartment door woke her again before the dreams could come back. What was it she’d been dreaming about anyway? Something about a dark place, with a single swinging light bulb. And stairs. She remembered there were stairs. Well. Silly dreams.
Cream barked, hearing her stirring from her bed. “I’m coming, Cream. I’m coming.”
The apartment was above the bakery, and Cream knew better than to go downstairs without Cookie going with him. There were places that a dog could not go in a business that sold food. The health inspectors got so touchy about that sort of thing. Well. That was why she kept the door closed at night.
When he saw her tying the belt around her robe, he spun in excited circles until she told him to settle down. Then he waited for her to open the door.
And ran down the stairs.
“My, my. Someone really has to go, don’t they?”
Cookie followed at a slower pace. The stairs seemed to be getting steeper every year. At the bottom, she called out for Cream, expecting to see him at the door leading out to the back, where he did his business at night.
Instead, he was over in a corner of the kitchen. In front of the exposed red bricks that outlined a wooden door banded in metal.
Cookie stopped, and stared. There was no such door in her kitchen. There never had been. She’d owned this shop for years now, and worked in it for the previous owner for years before that, and she knew there was no door there.
Only now, there was.
Oh, she thought. I’m dreaming. Of course. Just a dream.
“Cream,” she told him, “why don’t we both go back to bed and get some sleep…”
The door creaked open on noisy hinges.
In the dream, Cookie stepped forward. Cream waited for her, and together they both looked into a dark space. Cold, damp air wafted up to them, smelling of earth and old things. A stairway led down from the kitchen, inviting them to follow it to wherever it led.
“This is ludicrous,” Cookie said. “I don’t have a basement. I’m going back to sleep. Come along, Cream.”
Above the stairs, lower down, a single light bulb clicked on. It swung on a thick wire while its pull chain rattled and clinked.
Back, and forth. Back, and forth…
With a gasp that came out more like a strangled scream, Cookie sat up in bed. Her bed. In her apartment. She ran a hand through her hair and tried to breathe while she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark.
The dream had been so real. So detailed. Like she was really living it. A door, in her kitchen, leading down to a basement she didn’t have. It was crazy, she knew, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than simply the nighttime ramblings of her overworked brain.
A hand slid out from under the covers and felt its way up her back. Jerry was with her, and he gently pulled her back down to lay with him, nestled against his chest. Her man. Mmmm, yes. He felt so good. How could she be scared sleeping next to this man of hers?
“I love you, Jerry,” she told him.
He was already snoring softly, asleep again. Cookie would join him soon. She just couldn’t shake the images of the dream. Stairs. A basement. A single, swinging light bulb.
Well. That was a mystery that could wait until tomorrow.
From his basket on the floor at the foot of their bed, Cream yawned loudly. Then he, too, went back to sleep.
-The End-
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Strongly influenced by authors like James Patterson, Dick Francis, and Nora Roberts, Kathrine Emrick dreamed of being an author for the majority of her life.
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Table of Contents
Destination Murder - A Cookie and Cream Cozy Mystery Book 2
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
About the Author