Murder In Her Dreams (3 page)

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 blond young man looked more like one of the
hunks from those bodybuilding ads than the stereotypical
accountant. Ian had been more interested in Bert’s knack for
keeping clients happy and his accounting acumen at saving them
money.

Sharon, however, gave Bert a lavish smile and
touched his upper arm. “Justin was telling us you and he are off to
lift weights.”

He grinned back and pulled on Justin’s black
ponytail. “Yeah, thought this bod here needed to shape up a bit.
All study and no play, what a dud that makes. Right, dude?”

“Yeah, right,” Justin muttered as he slammed
the cover of his book.

Ian liked both young men. Good workers and
intelligent, they attacked every task he gave them with gusto.
Sharon knew them both from frequent visits to his office, but she
was being especially friendly tonight. Her way of getting back at
him for forgetting their date? Feeling a little guilty, he ignored
her flirtation.

“Good luck then. Be sure to lock up when you
leave.” Ian took Sharon’s arm, and they left the office.

Only a few weeks ago, he had asked her to
marry him and sometimes had to remind himself things had changed.
He had looked for a fiancée the same way he evaluated new clients.
He asked Sharon because she was talented, successful, financially
sound, and very much in control of her own life. He congratulated
himself that she had beauty and brains too. Love had not entered
into it. He considered himself past the age for such a notion. He
needed a wife who could help his business.

Outside, they walked toward Ian’s Accord in
the parking lot.

“Justin’s a nice kid,” Sharon observed, “and
handsome, too. So is Bert.”

Ian gave her a sideways glance. “Oh, you like
young men?”

“No, I prefer men old enough to know better.”
She gave him a teasing smile and squeezed his arm.

He patted her hand in response. “Like me?”
They had reached his gray Accord, and he unlocked the door for
Sharon.

“Just like you.”

He drove to the Adams Tavern, located only a
few blocks from his office, to save Sharon’s shoes, and so he would
have the car convenient to take her home afterwards. This late he
had no trouble parking near the entrance. In Columbus and its
suburbs, people dined early. By eight, except for the new, trendy
restaurants, the crowds thinned.

The Tavern provided quiet, comfortable dining
and food Ian liked. Its brick exterior matched well with the
character of colonial Worthington. Sometimes he thought the town
officials took too much pride and spent too much effort to retain
the charm of its New England heritage.

The town, established in 1803, had adopted a
building code for the town square that required red brick and
colonial style architecture. Even the big shopping mall north of
the square echoed that design. The Tavern followed the same model.
Inside, the dark wood and the uneven stone floor continued the
colonial theme.

A smiling hostess greeted Ian and Sharon as
they entered. They followed her down a short entry hall, through a
large room with a high ceiling whose heavy wooden beams called to
mind a baronial hall, and then into a cozy den-like room. Leather
upholstered booths lined two sides of the room and a field stone
fireplace took up most of a third. A cheery fire burned on the
stone hearth, giving off pleasant warmth and providing a welcome
contrast to the dark wood paneling.

The hostess led them past two white covered
tables occupying positions adjacent to the windows of the fourth
wall and two more tables in the center of the floor. The hostess
seated them in a booth next to the fireplace. The large, brass coat
hooks on tall posts at each high-backed booth reminded Ian of the
hook on the back of his office door and work he had yet to
complete.

Sharon waited until the server, a fresh-faced
young man dressed in the usual white shirt and black pants, took
their drink orders and left. She studied Ian with cool green eyes
that made him suspect she had not yet forgiven him for forgetting
their dinner date.

Determined to reassure her, Ian sighed and
took her right hand. “My long hours have brought results. I think
the company is over the hump now. Maybe I can take a little time
off.”

“Like for a honeymoon?” Now her green eyes
had a bright sparkle.

“We don’t need to hurry.” Ian squeezed her
hand and flashed her a smile.

Her words caught him unprepared. When he
asked her to marry him, he had envisioned a long engagement. Did
Sharon have other ideas? Confused, he looked down at the table and
then at her hands. He studied them, trying to organize his
thoughts.

Like everything else about her, her hands
reflected perfection. Sharon had beautiful hands with long, well
shaped fingers and oval nails. He had never seen her with a broken
nail or chipped polish. She kept them in tiptop condition.

“Well...” Her voice drew his attention back
to her face. “My biological clock is ticking and, unless you want
to be an elderly father, we’d better get on with it.”

Ian snorted. “Thanks. What’s wrong with
elderly fathers anyway?”

She grinned back, her eyes gleaming in the
reflected firelight. “Not much, but they may have a hard time
coping with their offspring, and they don’t get to enjoy
retirement.”

“Retirement?” His eyes widened as he stared
back, then narrowed as he realized she had been teasing him. “I’m a
long way from that. You’re just giving me a hard time for being
late. “

She surveyed him with an appraising smile,
eyebrows arched, but at just that moment the waiter returned. He
brought Sharon a dry Vodka Martini and Ian a single malt Scotch.
After taking their dinner orders, he departed. Almost on his heels,
the hostess entered followed by a young couple, and she seated them
at a table by the window.

The pair held hands and stared into each
other’s eyes. To Ian, they epitomized young love, certain in their
affection for one another and unworried about the future ahead. For
a moment, he wished he could feel that way. Once his grandmother
had told him he would gain his heart’s desire. Did he have such a
desire and could it be Sharon?

Sharon set her Martini down. “I know you’re a
long way from retirement yet, but seriously, Ian, we aren’t getting
any younger, and I’m ready to settle down.”

She ran her finger around the rim of her
glass. The firelight turned its contents to liquid gold.

“Like in stay at home?”

He stared at Sharon, surprised at this side
of her. He had always considered her a successful woman dedicated
to her career. He had trouble picturing her in a kitchen surrounded
by demanding children.

She shook her head and sipped her Martini
before replying. “No, I’m hardly the type, but I want a child. I’ll
work, but I just don’t want to be too tired to cope with my job and
a family.”

Ian frowned as he considered her reasons. The
thought of children scared him even more than an immediate
marriage.

“I suppose you’re right. Somehow, I hadn’t
thought we would marry so soon. With all the pressure at work, I
sort of thought a December wedding would give me time to finish
things.

“December is too close to Christmas.”

He took a deep breath. “When then?”

“May 15th. My calendar’s clear, and it’s our
slowest time. I can spare a week for a honeymoon before things get
hectic again.”

“A week?” He raised both eyebrows at that and
mentally reviewed his calendar. “Well, I suppose I could get away.
Taxes will be over and the first estimates won’t be due until June
15. I guess it would do.”

“Better than June.” Sharon leaned forward and
studied his face for a moment. “You sound a little uncertain. You
haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

“Of course not, it’s just that I’ve had other
things on my mind. Spring is our busiest time.” Ian ran a hand
through his hair. “I hadn’t given much thought to a wedding. I
thought we might ... just stay engaged for a while”

He grinned at her, feeling both stupid and in
a box. He wanted marriage, but not just yet.

She sniffed. “Sure, all the pleasures and
none of the responsibilities. Just like a man.”

“No, that’s not it. I haven’t thought much
about a family.” He sipped his whiskey and savored the warm, smoky
taste for a moment. “I suppose I figured on one someday. I just
hadn’t expected it to be so soon.”

“Ian, I want to get married and start a
family. You asked me to marry you. We’ve known each other over two
years now, so there’s no point in a long engagement. I said yes
because I love you.”

Her earnestness disconcerted him. He wanted
to loosen his tie, but instead he clasped her right hand in both of
his. He focused on her smooth white hand.

“I asked you to marry me, but I want to be
sure we have everything in order first. I want time to enjoy our
marriage.” He released her hand and twisted his glass back and
forth before looking up at her. “I guess May 15th is all right.
It’s not like we have a ton of people to ask.”

The green eyes studied him for a moment.
“Perhaps not, but you have no idea all the things that have to be
done even for a small wedding.” She sighed and leaned back against
the booth.

“Of course, that’s the bride’s
responsibility,” he blurted out, as panic gripped him. This whole
conversation caught him off guard. He couldn’t explain what
bothered him because he didn’t know himself. He had thought he was
ready for marriage, now he wasn’t so certain.

He scrambled to remember what he knew about
weddings. “Do I have to do anything else besides choose a best man
and show up at the church on time?”

Sharon sighed. “There’s also the rehearsal
dinner, and the best man usually arranges a bachelor party. It’s
your wedding too. Surely, you want to have a say in how it’s put
together. By the way, who do you plan to ask to be best man?”

Staring into the amber depths of his glass,
Ian found no help there. “I don’t know. I’ve sort of lost touch
with most of my old friends. I’ve been so buried, trying to get the
company back on its feet.”

“I’ve already picked the matron of honor and
two bridesmaids so you need two ushers besides the best man.”

“I suppose I could ask Jim Mears and Bert
Hanson to act as ushers. I’ll have to think about the best
man.”

“Just don’t think too long.”

The waiter brought their food, and they ate
in silence

As they rose to leave, Ian noticed the young
couple still absorbed in one another and still holding hands. He
doubted either of them would be plagued by the doubts and
uncertainties that haunted him. With such a beautiful and suitable
fiancée as Sharon, he should be jubilant, not glum. He sighed and
followed her toward the exit.

Sharon lived in one of those instant
executive slums, an expensive, but rapidly constructed apartment
complex, just off congested Tuttle Road. New ones cropped up almost
overnight as Dublin and Hilliard vied for the title of fastest
growing suburban community in Northwest Columbus. The new clients
brought by the rapid growth tempered Ian’s annoyance with the
traffic. He needed them to keep his business successful.

Sharon had a corner unit. Dark green shutters
against beige stucco walls framed the windows on either side of the
front door. Ian parked in front and walked her to the door.

“How about a cup of coffee,” she asked as she
unlocked the door.

“What? No, I’ve got to be at the office early
tomorrow.” Still bothered by the thought of an early wedding, he
dreaded the thought of giving Sharon any opportunity to question
him.

“So do I.” She sighed.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” He gave her a quick
kiss and a hug and then walked back to his car.

The scent of her musky perfume lingered and
intensified his unease and guilt. Sharon had so much to offer the
right man. Could he make this marriage work for them both?

Ian took the most direct route home along the
Scioto River. He lived in Upper Arlington, southeast of Dublin
between the Scioto and the Olentangy Rivers. Tall trees bordered
the riverside of the road and offered only occasional glimpses of
the dark water of the river. No street lights broke the empty
blackness. Only the glow of his headlights and those of the few
oncoming cars illuminated the road. Most of the homes stood well up
the hills lining the far side of the road.

As he drove, he thought about Sharon. They
had met at a Chamber of Commerce meeting and had dated off and on
for several years. Competent and friendly, Sharon had impressed
him. The public relations director for Star Bank, she managed her
job and a heavy schedule of activities. Few things seemed to ruffle
her. She handled petty details well. She was calm, organized, and
always in control. Ian saw her as an ideal helpmate for a busy
accountant.

Two years ago, she had come to him for help
with her taxes just after her divorce. The divorce had become final
at the beginning of January the year before so there were no messy
problems of joint filings or expenses to sort out. She seldom spoke
of her ex-husband and had never discussed him in any depth with
Ian. Unlike other divorced women he knew, Sharon never expressed
bitterness about her ex or toward men generally. He liked her and
just assumed her ex-husband had been a jerk. It still amazed Ian
that she had accepted him.