A Premonition of Murder

by Mary Kennedy

  “Horses! I knew there was something else,” Sam said. Her voice was high, ecstatic. I was thinking that this must be a magical moment for her. A murderer was brought to justice. All the clues were there, but no one had put them together until now.

  “Jeb Arnold liked horses, too,” I suddenly remembered. “You mentioned that to us, Dorien.”

  “Yes, I did. But how does this tie into the murders?” Ali passed Dorien the cookie tray, and she put a few on a napkin.

  “Remember the saddle soap and lanolin on the banister?” Sam asked. “We couldn’t figure out where the saddle soap came from. It was just a tiny amount, but it shouldn’t have been there at all. No commercial cleaning product uses saddle soap, so we figured it must have come from the killer’s hand. It was right there on the palm print.”

  “Norman Osteroff,” Ali said. “His wife raises horses, and he helps out with them.”

  “If only we had seen all this before,” Etta Mae said. “Maybe we could have saved poor Lucy.”

  Etta Mae is blunt sometimes, but she has a good heart, and I think she finds all this talk of murder distressing.

  “We did what we could,” I said gently. “Lucy made a big mistake when she blackmailed Osteroff. She practically signed her own death warrant. You can’t tangle with a man like that. And if you do, you can’t win.”

  “But tell us about the book,” Sybil demanded. “I know Abigail had tucked her diary between the dust cover of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, but what did it say? Did it lay out her suspicions about Osteroff?”

  “Yes,” Sam replied. “It had everything: names, dates, money transfers. She realized Osteroff had duped her sister, and she didn’t want to believe he had murdered her, but all the evidence pointed that way. She invited him to the mansion in a last-ditch effort to to force him to explain himself. The next step was going to the police.”

  “But instead she ended up dead,” Ali said sadly.

  “Just as she had predicted that day at lunch,” Minerva added.

  I nodded. In all the excitement of Osteroff’s arrest for three murders, I’d nearly forgotten Abigail’s startling revelation at lunch.

  “And we told her it was just a dream,” Rose said in a tiny voice. She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “We told her dreams could be explained in many ways, and there was no reason to think her death was imminent.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Persia said. “None of us could. We don’t offer answers in our dream interpretation work. Just possibilities.”

  “So there are no more surprises?” Sara asked. She was planning on writing an in-depth piece about the murders at Beaux Reves for a major news outlet.

  “Well, just one or two,” Sam said. “Do you remember how Sophie seemed so mysterious? She just appeared out of nowhere as a distant relative.”

  “I was suspicious of her from the start,” I said. “There was something off about her, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.” I pointed to Sara’s slender little notebook. She was balancing it on the arm of the chair while drinking tea and munching on cookies. “I wondered if she could be a reporter.”

  “Bingo,” Sam said. “Her real name is Rachel Martin, and she was planning to write a tell-all book about Beaux Reves. She specializes in crime fiction writing and hoped to be the next Ann Rule. She wanted to spend time in Savannah researching Desiree’s death, and she figured out a way to gain access to the mansion.”

  “By claiming to be a relative!” Sybil said.

  “Exactly. Sadly, Abigail fell for her story and took her in. Sophie covered her tracks and even had a fake passport printed up with her phony name.” Sam paused and glanced at her watch. I knew she had to leave in a few minutes.

  “What was her involvement with Angus?” I asked.

  “Angus was on to her. He found out her true identity and threatened to go to Abigail unless Rachel looked the other way while he continued to steal from the mansion.”

  “So Angus was involved in the thefts, too?” Lucinda asked. “All that beautiful artwork, gone who knows where.”

  “Angus and Nicky were both involved. It seems everyone was stealing from Abigail. Taylor’s theory was correct. They removed original paintings one by one and replaced them with forgeries. And sometimes they commissioned outright fakes.” She turned to the Harper sisters. “Like that fake William Gilbert. If you hadn’t noticed the steeple in the painting, we may never have caught on.”

  “What about that missing painting in the front hall?” Ali asked. “It was beautiful. I suppose they sold that, too?”

  Sam stood up. “No, oddly enough, that painting is okay. It really was sent to a restorer in Savannah. Abigail sent it out herself. She made a notation about it in her diary.”

  “So it all comes back to the book,” Ali said.

  “It’s all about the book,” I chimed in.

  The Harper sisters smiled at us. “Always, my dears, always.”

  “And who locked me in the basement?” I demanded. “Do we know?” I figured it had to be Angus or Jeb. Or possibly Lucy.

  “It was a new gardener, and it was completely innocent. He misunderstood some instructions and barricaded the door to the root cellar. Nothing nefarious at all.”

  We broke up shortly afterward, and Ali decided to turn in early. Barney and Scout scooted down the hall after her, so I was alone in the living room, finishing off the pot of tea. What an evening it had been! Full of surprises and revelations. Desiree, Abigail, and Lucy.

  I was filled with a sense of sadness at their deaths, yet it was good to have closure to the case. The last thing Sam told us before she left was that Abigail had left Beaux Reves to the Magnolia Society in her will, so it would be preserved and enjoyed for generations to come.

  I was stifling a yawn when the phone rang. Noah.

  “Are you still up? I see your light is on.”

  I curled my feet under me on the sofa and hugged the phone to my ear. “The Dream Club left a while ago, after Sam brought everybody up to date. I’m just having a cup of tea and . . . Wait a minute,” I said, scrambling to my feet and heading toward the window. The plantation shutters were open and the soft night air was drifting into the room. “How do you know the light’s still on?”

  Noah gave a low, sexy chuckle. “Because I’m parked right outside your building. Ready for a nightcap?” I peered out the window and saw his black BMW with the motor running.

  “I’d like that. Do you want to come up?” I offered.

  “Let’s head down to the Riverwalk. There’s a bluegrass band playing right now. I think we need to celebrate, don’t you?”

  “I do. Just give me a minute,” I said, grabbing my purse and running a brush through my hair.

  “I’ll give you all the time you need, Taylor. I’ll be here waiting for you. Always,” he said in a husky tone.

  I scribbled a quick note for Ali and grabbed my keys. I glanced out the window before I closed the plantation shutters. The moon was a golden crescent in a midnight blue sky, and the stars were twinkling. The night air was filled with the intoxicating scent of night-blooming jasmine, one of my favorite flowers. It seemed like an omen. This was a night to lay old ghosts to rest, to bury the past, to celebrate our successes. A night filled with magic, mystery, and promise.

  And I was going to spend it with Noah.

  Dream Symbol Guide

  What are your dreams trying to tell you? Do you ever dream of being stranded in a strange city in the dead of night, alone and afraid? Do you dream of wandering through a beautiful house, discovering hidden rooms filled with treasures? Dreams are our passport to the unconscious and understanding dream symbols can help you unlock their secrets.

  Being lost and alone is a frequent theme in dreams and suggests that you feel powerless and vulnerable in some area of your waking life. You literally don’t know where to turn, and the
re is usually a strong element of danger in these dreams.

  Finding yourself in a beautiful house, filled with hidden rooms, is another common theme. The hidden rooms represent your potential, parts of yourself that you have never explored, skills and talents you have never developed.

  Standing on the edge of a cliff is another well-known dream feature. You might be facing a turning point in your life, facing a momentous decision. Sometimes in the “cliff” dream, you see a canyon across the way. The distance is insurmountable; there is no way you can bridge the gap. This usually means that there is an obstacle to an important goal in your waking life; the gap represents the barrier you must overcome.

  Dreaming of driving a car—or riding in a car—features prominently in dreams. Are you driving or is someone else driving? If the car is careening down the road, it could mean that some element of your life is spinning out of control and needs to be addressed. If you are in the backseat, or unable to reach the pedals, it could mean that you seriously doubt your ability to control your own life and destiny. You may be overly dependent on others to make decisions for you.

  Cellars in dreams represent the deepest level of your unconscious. There is usually an element of darkness and danger in these dreams. Dreaming of being in a cellar can signify there is something in your conscious life that is hidden, something that you are afraid to face.

  Drowning in dreams usually means you are having trouble “keeping your head above water,” and water is a very powerful symbol of the unconscious. A flood represents the notion that you are about to be overwhelmed by a force more powerful than you are.

  Symbols in dreams embody our greatest hopes and fears; understanding their significance can help uncover material that is useful in our waking lives. There is no single way to interpret your dreams because you are the architect of your life. Sharing your dreams in a dream club can offer valuable insights into dreams and the power of the unconscious.

  Mary Kennedy is the national bestselling author of the Dream Club Mysteries, including Nightmares Can Be Murder and Dream a Little Scream, and the Talk Radio Mysteries. She was the recipient of an award from the National Endowment for the Arts for “artistic excellence in literary fiction.” She is also a practicing clinical psychologist. Visit marykennedy.net.

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