Nightmares Can Be Murder (A Dream Club Mystery) Read Online Free Page A

still made them.”
    “They came in yesterday, I just put them out this morning. Do you think the bins look too crowded?”
    “No, they look perfect. Like something out of a magazine photo shoot.”
    I ran my fingertips over a glass display case in the shop area of Oldies but Goodies. The shop was bright and appealing, with sunlight streaming in the front windows from Clark Street and zigzagging across the bleached oak floors. A pot of hazelnut coffee was brewing and a selection of fresh croissants was nestled on a serving tray along with a jar of Ali’s homemade blueberry jam and sweet cream butter.
    Ali’s shop has neatly stocked rows of candies that were popular half a century ago. Red Hots, Scottie Dog licorice, hot dog bubble gum, jawbreakers, and candy buttons line the top shelf divided by colorful partitions. Circus Peanuts, Chuckles, Bit-O-Honey, and Juicy Fruits are arranged in neat compartments along the bottom.
    I couldn’t resist reaching into an antique apothecary jar for a handful of French burnt peanuts. Munching away, I checked the rest of the inventory.
    This was a trip down memory lane and Ali had been thorough. She hadn’t missed a thing. Swedish fish and Jujubes, sold by the pound, were there, along with Necco Wafers and Sen-Sen packets. I saw all my old childhood favorites. Clark Bars, Fifth Avenue Bars, and Mounds Bars were neatly arranged in wicker baskets on top of the counter.
    The shop had a delightful, sugary aroma and reminded me of a real-life version of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. I wondered why business wasn’t booming. Why was Oldies but Goodies one of Savannah’s best-kept secrets?
    The building is tucked away on a side street a few blocks from the Historic District, and as I looked out the front window, I could see the heat already rising off the sidewalk. The sun was climbing high in the sky, signaling another scorcher on the way. I had the wild thought that Ali would be more successful selling frozen treats—ice cream, sherbets, and sorbets—than vintage candy.
    “Everything looks tempting, but think of the calories.” I read the fat count on a chocolate bar and nearly gasped aloud. In the old days, manufacturers didn’t print nutritional listings on wrappers, but now they’re required to by law.
    I checked out a row of glossy wax lips nestled close to a little mesh bag filled with chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil. I had a sudden flashback to my childhood home in Indiana when my parents were alive and we were still a family. Nostalgia time.
    “I don’t think an occasional splurge hurts anyone. Candy is a feel-good food; it gives you a little boost when you’re feeling down. Necco Wafers and Mallo Cups are two of my biggest sellers.” Ali looked up from her laptop, a tiny frown creasing her face. The AC was cranked to the max but the outdoor temperature was already in the nineties and Ali glanced up at the Casablanca fan as if willing it to spin faster. “Does that surprise you?”
    Oops.
I gave myself a mental head slap. I’d been tactless and it was time for a little damage control. “I just figured that since everyone is so health-conscious these days, they might want to cut down on sweets. And especially white sugar,” I finished lamely.
    “You’re not in Chicago anymore, sis. This is the South, remember? Home of sweet tea, lemon pie, and blueberry cobbler. Think of the spread I put out last night for the Dream Club. There was hardly a crumb left.”
    “That’s true,” I agreed. Everyone had practically inhaled the pastries, and Persia Walker had even asked if she could bring home some chess pie in a plastic container.
    Ali chewed on the end of a pencil and ducked her head back to the computer screen. After a quick breakfast, she’d spent the past hour going over last month’s receipts and tallying up the vendors’ bills. From time to time she gave a little sigh, and her forehead was wrinkled in concentration.
    Or maybe it was quiet