Dream a Little Scream

by Mary Kennedy

  Sara arrived a few minutes later, and I knew something was up. I glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes before the students would arrive. I was grateful that Dana seemed to have everything under control.

  “What’s up?” I asked Sara, pulling out a stool for her.

  “I just heard something interesting about Jeremy Watts,” she said, her face flushed with excitement. She sank onto the stool, her eyes dazzling. “Do you remember that purse snatching at the grocery store? An elderly woman left her purse in the cart and someone followed her around and then snatched it when they had the chance?”

  “I think I read about it,” I said slowly. “And Rose told me about it. The woman used to live on this street. She was a friend of the Harper sisters.”

  “It seems that the police pulled the store security tapes, hoping they could identify the guy.”

  “And what happened? Did they get him?” Ali asked, joining us.

  “Yes, he has a long history of thefts. But here’s the interesting part. Jeremy Watts was shopping in the same store. At least, there’s a guy on the tape who looks just like him. And”—she paused dramatically—“it was the night before the book signing.” She raised her eyebrows, and I wondered what was coming next.

  “Why would he be shopping at a grocery store here in Savannah?” Ali asked. “He said he was going straight home.”

  “He lied,” Sara said flatly. “Sam’s going to send one of her detectives over to the store this morning to see if anyone recognizes him from a photo. It certainly looks like him on the tape, but it would be better to have an eyewitness.”

  But an eyewitness to what? I didn’t have more time to ponder the issue because the students started streaming in, all smiles and enthusiasm. Within minutes, Dana had them settled at their stations and launched into her welcome speech, telling everyone to “have fun” with the decorating and not to worry if their first attempts weren’t perfect.

  “After all,” she said, “it doesn’t matter what they look like; they’ll still taste good.” And she was right. Dana had made dozens of vanilla cupcakes from scratch yesterday, and the enticing aroma had filled the shop. “Now let’s get started,” she began. Sara joined the students, with her notebook at the ready. I hoped the local paper would feature the event; it would be good for business.

  I drifted away to talk to Ali, who was making another pitcher of iced tea. “You can never have enough sweet tea for these ladies,” she said.

  “Very true. What did you think about what Sara told us about the security tapes?” I asked.

  “It’s interesting, but I don’t know what to make of it.” She shook her head. “Maybe nothing. We’ll have to wait and see what the detectives come up with when they visit the grocery.”

  Olivia arrived a few minutes later. She looked tired and stressed out, and I wondered if running Sonia Scott, Inc., was taking a toll on her, or if it was something else.

  “Olivia, it’s so nice you could stop by.” I gestured to the cupcake class in progress. “All our customers are making cupcakes from Sonia’s book. And we’re hoping the local paper will cover the event. It will be good publicity for the store, and for her book, of course.”

  “That’s nice,” she said idly. “You made a lovely window display with Sonia’s books. I looked at it when I came in. Very colorful.” She glanced around the shop. “I see you’ve moved things around a bit.”

  “Not too much, just a little. We had to fit two card tables in the center aisle so Dana and Ali could hold the class.”

  Once again, Olivia was looking at the floor. Was she looking for her missing day planner, or for the coffee cup from Java Joe’s?

  “I have some bookmarks I found,” I said, reaching into a drawer. “I thought you might like to have them. I see that Sonia autographed some of them, so they could be valuable.”

  “Thanks,” she said dispiritedly and shoved them into her blazer pocket. “It’s weird it didn’t turn up,” she said. “The day planner,” she added when she caught my puzzled look.

  “Oh yes, the day planner. We looked everywhere,” I said glibly. “Who knows what could have happened to it. I hope it wasn’t thrown out. A few things went missing from the shop that day.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “A coffee cup and a plastic cookie tray. Who knows what happened to them?”

  “A coffee cup and a cookie tray. Does it really matter at this point?” Olivia asked in a world-weary tone.

  “The police seem to think it does. They’ve searched all the trash bins around here, and they’re going to check the city dump tomorrow. All our trash from the shop is stashed in bright red plastic bags with our logo, so maybe they’ll come up with something.”

  “Maybe they will,” she said in a tired voice. Interesting. She hadn’t taken the bait. “Thanks for saving these,” she said, patting her pocket. “I guess I’d better get going, I’ve got a million errands to do,” she added, moving toward the door.

  “I suppose it must be pretty nerve-wracking, trying to take over the reins of a conglomerate.”

  “It is,” she said with a wistful sigh, “and it’s not at all like I pictured. Sonia was a workaholic, you know. I always admired that quality in her. She was my mentor, and I’ve never met anyone with such drive and enthusiasm. The company was her baby, her whole family.” Her mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. “No time for anything else, no need for anything but success.” There was a little catch in her voice, and she blinked rapidly.

  “She must have sacrificed a lot to achieve what she did,” I said slowly. I was surprised at Olivia’s mood; I’d never seen her so vulnerable and tentative. And I’d never expected her to be emotional. She had been so self-contained on previous visits. Was I seeing another side of Olivia? Or was this the “real” Olivia and she had kept her true self hidden up until now?

  “Well, it’s only for a little while longer,” she said. “Surely I can hold myself together for another month or two.”

  “What will happen then?” I asked, puzzled.

  “I’m leaving the company,” she said, and for the first time, I saw a genuine smile cross her face. “It’s something I should have done years ago. I suppose I was just so much in awe of Sonia, I stayed with her. She was my idol. I wanted to be just like her. And now that I’ve seen what her life was like, I don’t want any part of it.”

  We heard a round of applause go up from the students, and I glanced over at Dana. She gave me a thumbs-up. Someone had probably produced the perfect cupcake.

  “But what will you do? You’ve devoted so much of your life to the company.”

  “Too much,” she said ruefully. “I feel free for the first time in my life. I’m going back to Chattanooga and opening up a little bed-and-breakfast with my sister. It will be low stress, and I can’t wait to connect with my family again.”

  “Wow, I’m stunned.”

  “Everyone is.” She smiled. “Good luck to you, Taylor. You’ve been very kind, and I know your shop will be a success.”

  “Good luck to you, too,” I said warmly.

  “And the day planner I was looking for—” she added.

  “I can keep on looking . . .”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Don’t bother; I don’t need it anymore. I don’t know why I worried about it in the first place. In the scheme of things, it doesn’t even matter.”

  And with that she was gone. I went back to the cupcake class and Ali shot me a puzzled look. Olivia had totally surprised me. My whole theory of the case was turned upside down. If Olivia had no desire to run Sonia’s company, then what would have been the point of killing her? Unless Olivia had murdered her because she’d thought she wanted to take over the company. And then once the deed was done, Olivia realized she’d made a terrible mistake? I was more confused than ever.

  31

  “She didn’t seem the lea
st bit worried?” Sara asked. The Dream Club meeting was about to start, and I’d just told Sara about Olivia’s visit to the shop.

  “Not the tiniest bit.”

  “And you told her the police were looking for the coffee cup?” Sara reached out to grab a raspberry thumbprint cookie off a tray I was carrying into the living room.

  “I told her. And it had no effect whatsoever. She seemed completely disinterested. I told her they’d already checked all the trash bins in the area and they were going to check the dump tomorrow morning. No reaction at all.”

  Sara bit into the cookie and grinned. “Delicious.” I bit back a smile. She’d already sampled something off each tray. “Well, killers can be really cold-blooded. They don’t experience emotions the way we do, so that could explain how she kept her cool.”

  “But Olivia also told Taylor that she wasn’t going to take over Sonia’s company,” Ali pointed out. She poured iced tea and coffee and took a quick look around the living room. “Why bother killing Sonia if she was going to leave the company and move to Chattanooga for a quieter lifestyle?”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Sara admitted, “if Olivia really was telling Taylor the truth. Maybe the whole Chattanooga story was a ruse to get her off the suspect list.”

  “She seemed pretty convincing to me.” I picked Barney up off the sofa and put him in his cat bed on the floor. He prefers the sofa, but some of the club members have complained about cat fur on their clothes. I quickly went over the sofa cushions with a roll of sticky tape. Barney watched me carefully as I set about the task, and the moment I finished, he bolted out of his cat bed and jumped back up on the sofa.

  “Cats!” Sara said with a laugh. Her golden retriever, Remy, was curled up asleep in my bedroom. Remy is one of the quietest, gentlest dogs I’ve ever met, and that is why Sara can take her everywhere.

  “Where does that leave us?” Sara asked.

  “In a state of confusion,” Ali said ruefully. “Sam Stiles still likes Olivia for the murder, but after hearing about her plans to go to Chattanooga, I’m not so sure. That could change everything. It seems to take away her motive, doesn’t it?”

  “What about Jeremy Watts? There’s the security tape I told you about earlier,” Sara pointed out. “Sam’s going to call later and tell me if that really was Jeremy in the grocery store. Maybe they can find someone who remembers what he bought.”

  “That could be interesting. Especially if it was sesame seeds.”

  I tried to connect the dots in my mind. Jeremy had been caught on tape the night before the book signing. Instead of leaving Savannah as originally planned, he’d stuck around and gone to a grocery store near the hotel. Why? And we know he was holding a Java Joe’s coffee cup the next morning, because we saw the photo at the coffee shop.

  Could Jeremy really have bought sesame seeds at the grocery store? Was the idea completely far-fetched? Maybe he figured out a way to grind them up and saw his opportunity at Java Joe’s the next morning. He could have slipped the sesame seed powder in Sonia’s coffee and then taken off. As far as he knew, he was in the clear and no one would be able to connect him to the murder. Sonia liked her coffee lukewarm, so there was no way she would drink it in the limo. She would drink it at the book signing, collapse and die, and no one would be the wiser. Jeremy would be driving home, beyond suspicion.

  I could see this as a possible scenario. But what was his motive? If Olivia was really leaving the company, she wouldn’t be there to protect him and further his career. One possibility is that Sonia was going to tell Jeremy’s wife about their affair, but since the affair seemed to be an open secret, that was no motive after all. I was stymied.

  “I don’t see how we can connect Jeremy or Olivia to the crime without some hard evidence,” Sara said. “Everything is circumstantial, right?”

  “That’s true,” Ali said, “but a lot of cases are solved with circumstantial evidence. The killer is confronted and then he caves and confesses. I’ve seen it happen again and again. On television, I mean.”

  I had to chime in. “But Jeremy doesn’t look like the type who would break down and confess to anything.” I thought of the day I’d spotted him having breakfast with Olivia at the hotel. He’d been uncomfortable when he’d spoken with us a few minutes earlier, but he’d kept control of the conversation and hadn’t revealed a thing. A cool customer, indeed.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Ali agreed. “He plays his cards close to his vest, but I still think he’s weaker than Olivia. She’s a pretty tough cookie and definitely the stronger of the two.”

  The Dream Club members started arriving then, and it looked like everyone but Sam Stiles had made it. Ali took a quick phone call in the kitchen while I welcomed everyone. The Harper sisters settled down on the sofa, Sybil and Persia claimed armchairs, and Lucinda perched on an ottoman.

  Sara hunkered down on the floor, by the coffee table, where she could pet Barney and Scout. And where she had access to the desserts, I thought with a smile. We always tease Sara about her sweet tooth, but maybe we’re just jealous. She manages to eat copious amounts of sugar and never gain an ounce. I envy her.

  “Who’s missing?” I said, counting heads.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Dorien said, bustling in. “I had a reading to do.” Since Dorien’s catering business took a nosedive earlier this year, she’s gone back to reading tarot cards. She’s managed to pick up some business by advertising in local papers and passing out fliers, but she’s barely scraping by. I’ve often thought of hiring her at the shop, but her abrasive manner would be off-putting for customers. She must turn on the charm for her tarot readings, I decided, since she seems to be fairly successful.

  “That was Sam Stiles,” Ali whispered, pulling over a kitchen chair. “She sent a couple of detectives out to watch the garbage dump tonight. Just in case.” She raised her eyebrows. “She expects to find Olivia there, looking for the coffee cup.”

  I shook my head and let out a breath. Obviously Sam was a detective and had more experience than I did, but I just couldn’t see Olivia as the prime suspect anymore. But maybe I’ve been conned by Olivia, I thought. That whole story about Chattanooga might be bogus. Maybe the woman is a born actress and I’ve fallen for her spiel.

  “We’re still missing two more people,” Ali said, scanning the group.

  “Etta Mae is out of town,” Rose Harper told us. “She had to visit a relative and asked me to give everyone her apologies. She’ll be here next week.”

  “And that leaves—”

  “Edward Giles,” Lucinda piped up. “I’m afraid he’s decided not to continue with us.” She looked troubled and twisted her hands in her lap. “I swear, I don’t know what’s going on with that man. I thought he enjoyed our little group.”

  “Hah, I’m not surprised,” Dorien said caustically. “I never had a good feeling about him. And he was reluctant to share his dreams; remember how we had to prod him each time?”

  “I think he was just shy,” Lucinda said, shooting Dorien a look. “Not everyone is as outspoken as you are, Dorien. I think in time, he would have come around.”

  I think Lucinda had been hoping for a personal relationship with Edward that never materialized. I’d figured the two lonely people would get together, but maybe they just hadn’t connected. The former headmistress and the university professor had seemed like a perfect match to me, but relationships are tricky, and who can predict the outcome?

  My thoughts drifted back to Noah, and I quickly reined them in. There was no use speculating on what was going on with him: either we’d resume our relationship and remain friends or we wouldn’t. I was trying to take a very Zen approach to it, but I wasn’t all that successful. I still caught myself thinking of Noah at odd hours of the night and day. Did he think about me? Only time would tell.

  “Well, it’s sad, but it’s not completely unexpected,” Sybil sa
id. “I never thought he was really into dream interpretation.”

  “He was certainly pleasant enough,” Lucinda said. “A real gentleman.” I could tell that she was disappointed that Edward wouldn’t be joining us anymore. She turned to me. “He’s going to write to you and Ali with his apologies. He wishes everyone well, but he just doesn’t feel this is the right direction for him at this time.”

  I shrugged. “It’s not for everyone,” I admitted. Sometimes dreams reveal secrets that we’d prefer to leave buried in our subconscious. A couple of people have dropped out when they felt a little uncomfortable at the feedback Sybil and Persia gave them. Ali always does her best to moderate the discussion, but some members are lacking in tact. Dorien, in particular, has a way of always putting her foot in her mouth, and a couple of people have taken offense at her blunt remarks. It’s hard to juggle different personalities in a group like this, especially when the discussion turns personal and some “interpretations” hit too close to home.

  “Who wants to start?” Ali passed a plate of meringues. She’d added chocolate chips and chopped nuts and tinted them with food coloring. Rose and Minerva Harper admired them while scooping some into a napkin.

  “Such pretty pastels,” Rose said. “Were they difficult to make?”

  “They’re a breeze,” Ali told her. “You leave them in the oven overnight. I’ll text you the recipe.”

  “Well, I had an interesting dream for tonight,” Lucinda said, “but the strangest thing happened. It flew right out of my head. I can’t remember a single thing about it. How embarrassing.”

  “That happens to all of us,” Ali said soothingly. “Don’t worry yourself trying to recall it. You’ll see something or you’ll hear something and the whole dream will come back to you in a flash.”

  “Ali’s right; that happens to me all the time,” Dorien offered. “Don’t waste your time trying to chase it down. It will come back when you least expect it.”

  “But it’s not just the dream that’s troubling me. I’ve been forgetting other things as well.” Lucinda looked genuinely distressed, her lips drawn downward in a frown. “I don’t know if it’s old age or if it could be something more sinister.”