Murder In Her Dreams Read Free Page A

of
control over his own destiny. Never again would anyone put him in
such a position.
    The sudden snap of the pencil he held in his
hand startled him. Ian looked down in surprise at the jagged
pieces. He consciously focused to slow his breathing. Harrison was
dead and nothing could bring the lost money or him back. Now,
neither mattered.
    The monthly reports told a satisfying story.
He smiled. His long hours had paid off. A few more clients like
Haskell Hardware and he could take some time off. The twelve and
fourteen hour days of the last year had grown old.
    His mouth tasted stale. He sat back and
shrugged his shoulders, rolling his neck from side to side to
loosen the soreness there.
    Ian placed the reports in the Out tray for
his administrative assistant, MaryLou Sanders, to file and left the
Haskell file on the credenza behind his desk. The computer screen
to his right still showed the last set of figures he had reviewed.
He hit a key to call up the screen saver and flying dollar signs
floated past.
    Glancing at his watch, Ian saw he had time
for a quick microwave meal, but would have to wait until later for
any news. The local and the network newscasts annoyed him. The news
anchors’ hobbyhorses and causes bored him. He wanted his news
straight and undiluted. Nowadays, too many shows featured talking
heads spouting feel-good opinions and the latest fads. Sports got
plenty of play, but international news kept shrinking.
    The sound of the door to his office opening
drew his attention. Ian looked up to see Sharon Arthur, his
fiancée, framed in the open door. Dressed in a pale green dress,
she epitomized cool elegance as she arched a perfect eyebrow at
him.
    “I thought we had a date for dinner. You said
seven, didn’t you?”
    “Seven?” Ian stared at her for a moment and
then frowned sheepishly. “Oh, seven.” He had completely forgotten
about dinner with Sharon. “What time is it?”
    She held up her watch. “Seven forty-five. I
thought at first you’d gotten caught in traffic, but then at twenty
past I called the office.”
    “You called? No one told me.”
    Sharon gave a long-suffering sigh. “Justin
answered the phone and said you were still reviewing the reports. I
told him not to bother you.” She brushed her lips across Ian’s
cheek in a quick kiss. “Well, are we going to eat?”
    “Oh sure, let’s grab a bite.” Ian rolled down
his shirtsleeves, tightened his tie, and then grabbed his suit
jacket off the brass hook from the back of the door. “How did you
get here? I thought you planned to leave your car at home.”
    “I did. Karen dropped me at the restaurant on
her way home. I took a cab here. You know me. I don’t walk unless I
have no choice. Besides, these shoes aren’t exactly made for city
sidewalks.”
    Ian glanced down at the high-heeled sandals
Sharon wore. Green like her dress, this pair consisted of nothing
more than a few straps of crisscrossed leather, soles, and
four-inch heels. He could not imagine walking in them, let alone
for several blocks.
    Of the few women he knew well enough to
observe, only his mother refused to wear heels. She told him she
had grown too old for them and preferred her comfortable walking
shoes. Sharon had a thing about shoes, maybe not quite as bad as
Imelda Marcos or some celebrities, but close.
    He accompanied her into the outer office
where Justin Lord, the co-op student, sat at his desk with his head
bent over a book. “Come on, Justin, time to go home.”
    The pony-tailed youth, a gold stud glittering
from his ear, looked up. “Sure, Mr. McLeod.” He grinned at Sharon.
“I see you broke him lose, Miss Arthur.” He turned back to Ian.
“I’m studying for my exams. It’s quieter here than at home.
Besides, Bert and I are going to the Y to lift weights.”
    “Did someone mention my name?” Bert Hansen
opened the door next to the desk where Justin sat. “Hi,
Sharon.”
    Ian had not hired Bert for his muscular good
looks, even though the