Tell Me Your Dreams

It had taken Ashley an hour to decide whether she should go into the office. She was torn. One look at me, and everyone will know that something is wrong. But if I don’t show up, they’ll want to know why. The police will probably be there asking questions. If they question me, I’ll have to tell them the truth. They won’t believe me. They’ll blame me for killing Dennis Tibbie. And if they do believe me, and if I tell them my father knew what he did to me, they’ll blame him.

She thought of Jim Cleary’s murder. She could hear Florence’s voice: “Jim’s parents came back and found his body. He had been stabbed to death and castrated.”

Ashley squeezed her eyes shut tightly. My God, what’s happening? What’s happening?

Deputy Sam Blake walked onto the work floor where groups of somber employees stood around, talking quietly. Blake could imagine what the subject of conversation was. Ashley watched him apprehensively as he headed toward Shane Miller’s office.

Shane rose to greet him. “Deputy Blake?”

“Yes.” The two men shook hands.

“Sit down, Deputy.”

Sam Blake took a seat. “I understand Dennis Tibbie was an employee here?”

“That’s right. One of the best. It’s a terrible tragedy.”

“He worked here about three years?”

“Yes. He was our genius. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t do with a computer.”

“What can you tell me about his social life?”

Shane Miller shook his head. “Not much, I’m afraid. Tibbie was kind of a loner.”

“Do you have any idea if he was into drugs?”

“Dennis? Hell, no. He was a health nut.”

“Did he gamble? Could he have owed someone a lot of money?”

“No. He made a damned good salary, but I think he was pretty tight with a buck.”

“What about women? Did he have a girlfriend?”

“Women weren’t very attracted to Tibbie.” He thought for a moment. “Lately, though, he was going around telling people there was someone he was thinking of marrying.”

“Did he happen to mention her name?”

Miller shook his head. “No. Not to me, anyway.”

“Would you mind if I talked to some of your employees?”

“Not at all. Go ahead. I have to tell you, they’re all pretty shaken up.”

They would be more shaken up if they could have seen his body, Blake thought.

The two men walked out onto the work floor.

Shane Miller raised his voice. “May I have your attention, please? This is Deputy Blake. He’d like to ask a few questions.”

The employees had stopped what they were doing and were listening.

Deputy Blake said, “I’m sure that all of you have heard what happened to Mr. Tibbie. We need your help in finding out who killed him. Do any of you know of any enemies he had? Anyone who hated him enough to want to murder him?” There was a silence. Blake went on. “There was a woman he was interested in marrying. Did he discuss her with any of you?”

Ashley was finding it difficult to breathe. Now was the time to speak up. Now was the time to tell the deputy what Tibbie had done to her. But Ashley remembered the look on her father’s face when she had told him about it. They would blame him for the murder.

Her father could never kill anyone.

He was a doctor.

He was a surgeon.

Dennis Tibbie had been castrated.

Deputy Blake was saying, “… and none of you saw him after he left here on Friday?”

Toni Prescott thought, Go ahead. Tell him, Miss Goody Two-shoes. Tell him you went to his apartment. Why don’t you speak up?

Deputy Blake stood there a moment, trying to hide his disappointment. “Well, if any of you remembers anything that might be helpful, I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a call. Mr. Miller has my number. Thank you.”

They watched as he moved toward the exit with Shane.

Ashley felt faint with relief.

Deputy Blake turned to Shane. “Was there anyone here he was particularly close to?”

“No, not really,” Shane said. “I don’t think Dennis was close to anybody. He was very attracted to one of our computer operators, but he never got anywhere with her.”

Deputy Blake stopped. “Is she here now?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’d like to talk to her.”

“All right. You can use my office.” They walked back into the room, and Ashley saw them coming. They were headed straight for her cubicle. She could feel her face redden.

“Ashley, Deputy Blake would like to talk to you.”

So he knew! He was going to ask her about her visit to Tibbie’s apartment. I’ve got to be careful, Ashley thought.

The deputy was looking at her. “Do you mind, Miss Patterson?”

She found her voice. “No, not at all.” She followed him into Shane Miller’s office.

“Sit down.” They both took chairs. “I understand that Dennis Tibbie was fond of you?”

“I—I suppose …” Careful. “Yes.”