Nightmares Can Be Murder (A Dream Club Mystery) by Mary Kennedy Read Free Book Online Page B

How could anyone really tell what a cat was thinking? “I wonder what they dream about?” I said carefully. “I can’t even hazard a guess.”
    “Why, they dream about the same things we do. They have likes and dislikes and regrets and plans for the future.”
    “They do? Plans for the future?” I tried not to smile, picturing Barney signing up for an online MBA course and Scout attending summer tennis camp. “I find that hard to imagine.”
    “And some of their dreams revolve around fantasies, of course,” Ali said, skimming over my objections. “They dream about things they’d like to do, places they’d like to go, people they’d like to meet.”
    “Is that so?” I poured myself a final cup of coffee before she whisked the pot away.
    “Absolutely. I think a lot of cat dreams are based on wish fulfillment. I’d love to know what Barney and Scout dream about,” she said wistfully. “If we could just tap into a cat’s thoughts, the world would be a better place.”
    According to Ali, Barney and Scout are not only sensitive souls but excellent judges of character. She believes they can read minds, understand human conversation, and have amazing insights into the world around them.
    Glancing at them snoozing away so blissfully, I found that hard to fathom, but who was I to challenge her belief system? If she found comfort thinking that her four-footed friends had paranormal abilities, I wasn’t about to take that away from her.

7
    Allison had warned me that business was usually slow on Sundays. I was helping her unpack a box of root beer barrels when a young woman with high cheekbones and glossy black hair pulled back in pigtails burst into the shop. She was model-thin and wore a tie-dyed shirt and skinny jeans with Teva sandals. Her eyes were a captivating river green, and her grin was infectious.
    “Sorry I’m late,” she called to Ali before zipping back to the lounge area. “I’ll just grab some sweet tea and then I’ll get right to work in the storeroom, I promise!”
    “Take your time, Dana,” Ali called. “There’s not much to unpack, we’re still waiting for those black licorice ropes to come in. I may put out some cherry Twizzlers instead. They’re not exactly vintage, but everyone likes them.” Ali turned to me. “Dana Garrett, my new assistant,” she said in a low voice. “She’s a criminal justice major at the university, and she helps me out a few hours a week. She’s doing a minor in marketing, and she’ll get credit for her work here, if I write an evaluation for her professor after six weeks.”
    “Really? She doesn’t look the criminal justice type. I would have figured her for an arts major.”
    “She’d like to be. Her family insisted she study something practical, but she’s an artist at heart.” Ali’s lips curved into the briefest of smiles. “I feel a little guilty, because I never seem to have any interesting jobs for her.” She paused. “Maybe she could help you with some marketing projects? At least marketing would be related to her minor, and she wouldn’t be stuck in the backroom doing inventory. You wouldn’t mind, would you? She’s really nice and she’s willing to learn.”
    “I wouldn’t mind at all. I’ll come up with something,” I said, just as a group of tourists wandered in. “The more the merrier. It’s always good to brainstorm ideas.”
    As I watched Dana waiting on customers later that afternoon, I discovered that she was just as pleasant and enthusiastic as Ali had told me, and I vowed to come up with a project for her.
    It was six thirty when we finally closed up the shop and retired upstairs. Ali had made a roasted veggie tray and I was spooning out whole wheat couscous onto our dinner plates when the doorbell rang downstairs. Both Barney and Scout woke up instantly and jumped out of their cat bed, landing nimbly onto the floor, their ears standing up at attention, their dark eyes flashing.
    Barney’s tail was fluffed out,