When She Dreams（Burning Cove #6）(15)

“Not that I know of.” Maggie paused. “That’s an interesting idea, though. A post office box would be an excellent way to keep certain types of correspondence a secret from others in the household. In this case, however, the question is, why bother? Miss Dewhurst lives alone.”

Sam got the ghostly whisper of awareness. “You appear to be one of the very few people who are close to Lillian Dewhurst.”

“Trust me, that did occur to me,” Maggie said, her voice sharp but not defensive. “The only secret I’m aware of is that she is Aunt Cornelia. I’m not the one blackmailing my employer. If I was, I wouldn’t have hired you.”

“It would be an interesting way of diverting suspicion from yourself.”

“Hmm.”

He thought he heard paper rustling. It was a small, insignificant sound, but it set off warning bells.

“Miss Lodge? What are you doing?”

“Just making a few notes,” she said a little too smoothly. “Please go on.”

She was taking notes? That did not sound good. He wasn’t sure why it didn’t sound good, but his intuition told him it was ominous.

“You’ve worked for Dewhurst for a couple of months and now you’re writing the columns,” he said.

“I didn’t get rid of her in order to get her job, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Just trying to establish the facts.”

“I don’t want her job. It’s a good career but it’s not my calling. It is Miss Dewhurst’s calling, however. She has a talent for giving the right advice.”

“Why isn’t it a calling for you?” he asked, distracted.

“One never knows how the story ends.”

“What?”

“An advice columnist almost never finds out if the person who asked for help took the advice and, if so, how things worked out,” Maggie explained. “I find the work somewhat unsatisfying. I want to know the outcome.”

So do I, Sam thought. Back to business. “Why Burning Cove?”

“Pardon?”

“The extortionist thinks the conference at the Guilfoyle Institute will be a good place to collect the blackmail payment. You said that Dewhurst had thought about attending the event?”

“We talked about it, but in the end we both changed our minds.”

“Why?”

“Lillian decided to take the voyage to the South Pacific instead. I changed my mind after I discovered that Dr. Emerson Oxlade would be the guest lecturer.”

“You consider him a quack?”

“Not in the usual sense. He’s a real doctor and he is serious about his research in the field of lucid dreaming, but he is extremely unethical. Knowing he was involved with the Guilfoyle Institute put me off the notion of attending.”

It was his turn to take notes. Sam picked up a pencil and jotted down the name Oxlade.

“How did you come to that conclusion about Dr. Oxlade?” he asked.

“Long story. It’s not relevant.”

He scrawled the word personal and followed it with an exclamation point.

“What are you doing, Mr. Sage?”

“Just making a few notes.”

“Oh.” She went silent.

He smiled, pleased at having been able to stop her cold, at least for a couple of beats, by throwing her own words back at her. The moment of satisfaction was fleeting, however, because he immediately went back to wondering why she had been making notes earlier. There was definitely something worrisome about it, but he couldn’t figure out why it made him uneasy.

He reminded himself to stay focused on the case.

“Everything about this situation appears to be linked to the conference at the Guilfoyle Institute,” he said.

“Exactly.” Energy infused her voice again. “I have come to the same conclusion.”

“I’m happy to continue to investigate, but it won’t be cheap. I’ll need a hotel room in Burning Cove, and there’s the cost of gas, meals, telephone calls, et cetera.”

“Money is not a problem, Mr. Sage. I agree the next step is to attend the dream conference at the Institute. It opens tomorrow evening with a formal reception. Would you prefer to take your own car, or would you like to accompany me? There’s the train, of course, but it will be more convenient to have our own vehicle once we’re in Burning Cove. We don’t want to have to call a taxi every time we need to follow a suspect.”

He tightened his grip on the phone. “No offense, Miss Lodge, but I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to accompany me.”

“Maggie, remember? Of course I have to go with you. I’m your cover.”

“Excuse me?”

“To slip into the crowd without calling attention to ourselves, we will have to appear to be ordinary conference attendees. I know a lot about lucid dreaming. I can talk the language, if you see what I mean.”

“Not really.”

“I’ll be able to blend in and provide you with a believable reason for being there.”

“I don’t think—”

“I’ll take care of the hotel reservations and the conference tickets,” Maggie concluded. “Don’t worry about the cost.”

It occurred to him he was losing control of the conversation, the case, and the client. He forced himself to concentrate.