Tell Me Your Dreams. Sidney Sheldon
what do we have? It wasn’t drugs. He wasn’t robbed. He didn’t owe anybody money. That kind of leaves a romantic situation, doesn’t it? Someone who was jealous of him.”
Or a father who wanted to protect his daughter.
“I’m as puzzled as you are, Deputy.”
He stared at her for a moment and his eyes seemed to say, “I don’t believe you, lady.”
Deputy Blake got to his feet. He took out a card and handed it to Ashley. “If there’s anything you can think of, I’d appreciate your giving me a call.”
“I’ll be happy to.”
“Good day.”
She watched him leave. It’s over. Father’s in the clear.
When Ashley returned to her apartment that evening, there was a message on the answering machine: “You got me real hot last night, baby. I’m talking blue balls. But you’ll take care of me tonight, though, the way you promised. Same time, same place.”
Ashley stood there, listening in disbelief. I’m going crazy, she thought. This has nothing to do with Father. Someone else must be behind all this. But who? And why?
Five days later, Ashley received a statement from the credit card company. Three items caught her attention:
A bill from the Mod Dress Shop for $450.
A bill from the Circus Club for $300.
A bill from Louie’s Restaurant for $250.
She had never heard of the dress shop, the club or the restaurant.
ASHLEY Patterson followed the investigation of Dennis Tibbie’s murder in the newspapers and on television every day. The police appeared to have reached a dead end.
It’s over, Ashley thought. There’s nothing more to worry about. That evening, Deputy Sam Blake appeared at her apartment. Ashley looked at him, her mouth suddenly dry.
“I hope I’m not bothering you,” Deputy Blake said. “I was on my way home, and I just thought I’d drop in for a minute.”
Ashley swallowed. “No. Come in.”
Deputy Blake walked into the apartment. “Nice place you have here.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll bet Dennis Tibbie didn’t like this kind of furniture.”
Ashley’s heart began to pound. “I don’t know. He’s never been in this apartment.”
“Oh. I thought he might have, you know.”
“No, I don’t know, Deputy. I told you, I never dated him.”
“Right. May I sit down?”
“Please.”
“You see, I’m having a big problem with this case, Miss Patterson. It doesn’t fit into any pattern. Like I said, there’s always a motive. I’ve talked to some of the people over at Global Computer Graphics, and no one seems to have known Tibbie very well. He kept pretty much to himself.”
Ashley listened, waiting for the blow to fall.
“In fact, from what they tell me, you’re the only one he was really interested in.”
Had he found out something, or was he on a fishing expedition?
Ashley said carefully, “He was interested in me, Deputy, but I was not interested in him. I made that quite clear to him.”
He nodded. “Well, I think it was nice of you to deliver those papers to his apartment.”
Ashley almost said, “What papers?” and then suddenly remembered. “It—it was no trouble. It was on my way.”
“Right. Someone must have hated Tibbie a lot to do what they did.”
Ashley sat there tense, saying nothing.
“Do you know what I hate?” Deputy Blake said. “Unsolved murders. They always leave me frustrated. Because when a murder goes unsolved, I don’t think it means that the criminals were that smart. I think it means that the police weren’t smart enough. Well, so far, I’ve been lucky. I’ve solved all the crimes that have come my way.” He got to his feet. “I don’t intend to give up on this one. If you can think of anything that will be helpful, you’ll call me, won’t you, Miss Patterson?”
“Yes, of course.”
Ashley watched him leave, and she thought, Did he come here as a warning? Does he know more than he’s telling me?
Toni was more absorbed than ever in the Internet. She enjoyed her chats with Jean Claude the most, but that did not stop her from having other chat room correspondents. At every chance, she sat in front of her computer, and the typed messages flew back and forth, spilling onto the computer screen.
“Toni? Where have you been? I’ve been in the chat room waiting for you.”
“I’m worth waiting for, luv. Tell me about yourself. What do you do?”
“I work at a pharmacy. I can be good to you. Do you do drugs?”
“Sod off.”
“Is that you, Toni?”
“The answer to your dreams. Is it Mark?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t been on the Internet lately.”
“I’ve been busy. I’d like to meet you, Toni.”
“Tell me, Mark, what do you do?”
“I’m a librarian.”
“Isn’t that exciting! All those books and everything …”
“When can we meet?”
“Why don’t you ask Nostradamus?”
“Hello, Toni. My name is Wendy.”
“Hello, Wendy.”
“You sound like fun.”
“I enjoy life.”
“Maybe I can help you enjoy it more.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I hope you’re not one of those narrow-minded people who are afraid to experiment and try exciting new things. I’d like to show you a good time.”
“Thanks, Wendy. You don’t have the equipment I need.”
And then, Jean Claude Parent came back on.
“Bonne nuit. Comment ça va? How are you?”
“I’m great. How about you?”
“I have missed you. I wish very much to meet you in person.”
“I want to meet you, too. Thanks for sending me your photograph. You’re a good-looking bloke.”
“And you are beautiful. I think it is very important for us to get to know each other. Is your company coming to Quebec for the computer convention?”
“What? Not that I know of. When is it?”
“In three weeks. Many big companies will be coming. I hope you will be here.”
“I hope so, too.”
“Can we meet in the chat room tomorrow at the same time?”
“Of course. Until tomorrow.”
“À