Free Nightmares Can Be Murder (A Dream Club Mystery) by Mary Kennedy Page A

macaroni and cheese is absolutely delicious. It’s better than the one I make.”
    “It has three different kinds of cheeses,” Ali said absently. “That’s the secret. And I add a touch of white wine. I’ll write the recipe down for you.” I noticed Ali had taken a tiny portion of salad greens, but hadn’t touched any of the casseroles.
    I had no idea the freezer was so well stocked with homemade delicacies, and was amazed when she’d pulled out an enchilada casserole, an artichoke and Gruyère mixture with wild rice, and an amazing roasted vegetable curry.
    It was obvious to me that Ali’s talent for cooking would be a tremendous asset to the vintage candy shop, and she should be serving light meals and snacks to her customers. I resolved to bring the issue up again once things had settled down with the investigation. This was no time to talk business; everyone’s mind was on Chico.
    We spent a few minutes talking about being interviewed by Sam, and then Persia jumped in. “You do remember my dream, don’t you?” she asked, looking around the group. “It was prophetic, wasn’t it?” she said, raising her eyebrows in a V.
    “Tell me again,” Lucinda said, leaning forward. “You saw a dark-haired man, and there was some loud Latin music playing in the background.”
    “Exactly,” Persia said, giving a smile like the Cheshire cat. “It all fits, you see. The man, the music, and in my dream, the door was open to the street.” She widened her eyes and tossed me a meaningful look like someone in a soap opera. “That’s precisely what you discovered when the two of you rushed over to the studio, wasn’t it? The door was open to the street, and you could see inside?”
    “Yes, that’s what happened,” Ali said, pressing her lips together for a moment. “We could see Chico lying inside and music was blaring away, the salsa numbers he uses for his dance classes. He was lying there still, so still.” She winced at the memory, and her voice wobbled a little. Ali had always insisted her relationship with Chico had been casual, yet she was having a hard time dealing with his death, and trying not to show it.
    “But there were other points of comparison, isn’t that right, dear?” Persia went on. “Maybe you overlooked some elements that are less obvious. Do you remember what I said about the wolves?”
    “The wolves?” I asked. I refilled everyone’s glasses and sat down again. Almost everyone was having wine except the Harper sisters. They’d asked for sweet tea, and I’d put a large, cut-glass pitcher on the coffee table.
    “Yes, Taylor, the wolves,” she said with a touch of impatience. “I saw a pack of wolves circling the man in the dream. They looked menacing, almost bloodthirsty, and their fur was tinged with red. She gave an involuntary little shudder and clasped her hands together in her lap.
    “What do you suppose that means?” Sybil asked.
    “The presence of the wolves in Persia’s dream must have been symbolic,” Ali said slowly. “One interpretation is that the wolves represent people who posed a threat to Chico.”
    Dorien cleared her throat. “Well,” she began, “not to speak ill of the dead, but let’s face it, ladies, there were plenty of people who wanted to get rid of Chico.” She looked around the group as if daring anyone to disagree with her. “They wouldn’t be too upset if a pack of wolves had chomped him to death. They’d probably figure he had it coming.” She seemed to take a grim relish in the image of Chico being dismembered, and I wondered if she had a particular ax to grind with the dead dance instructor.
    “Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” Lucinda said, twin spots of color popping up on her cheeks. “I mean, Chico had his faults, bless his heart, but I don’t think anyone really wanted to see him dead. He tried his best, but he was always an outsider here, bless his heart.”
    Her remark was met with stony silence, and I had to bite