When She Dreams（Burning Cove #6）(20)

Maggie’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Every investigator makes mistakes, but drinking a cocktail the bad guy mixes for you at a critical point in the case is not a real smart professional move,” Sam said.

“You’re right,” Maggie said, clearly impressed. “I never thought of that. Sam Spade knows Gutman is a criminal and yet he drinks the cocktail that Gutman serves him. The drink is laced with a drug that renders Sam unconscious. I must tell you, however, that from a writer’s point of view, sometimes one needs a plot twist that allows—”

“Miss Smith. What an astonishing coincidence.”

Maggie froze. Sam turned to see a distinguished-looking man with thinning hair, spectacles, and a gold signet ring bearing down on them.

“Damn,” Maggie said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re about to meet Dr. Emerson Oxlade, manipulative liar and pathetic dream analyst.”

“Why did he call you Miss Smith?” Sam asked.

“I’ll explain later.”

She was furious, Sam decided, not fearful. Another Maggie mystery.

Before he could ask any more questions, Dr. Emerson Oxlade was upon them. Sam decided that even if he hadn’t been aware Maggie did not like Oxlade, he would have found the man annoying. Oxlade radiated pompous arrogance, but it was the sheen of unwholesome excitement in his eyes that set off alarm bells. It looked a lot like obsession, and it was fixed on Maggie.

Oxlade stopped in front of her. Looming.

Maggie deliberately took a step back. “Dr. Oxlade.”

“I had no idea you would be here tonight, Miss Smith.” Oxlade closed the distance between them. “I assume you are attending the conference because you are still seeking therapy for your disturbing dreams. I did warn you it was a mistake to end treatment, my dear.”

Maggie gave him a pitying smile. “You are obviously having memory problems, Dr. Oxlade. My name is Miss Lodge, not Miss Smith, and I never saw you for treatments of any kind. I booked a couple of professional consultations with you. Unfortunately, you had no idea what you were doing. You were clearly out of your depth.”

Sam realized they had both forgotten about him. He moved toward Oxlade, just a step. Oxlade did not appear to notice him, but he automatically retreated, the way a person did when a stranger got too close. The small maneuver gave Maggie some breathing room.

Oxlade got a concerned expression. “I was afraid of this, my dear. You are suppressing your lucid dreams rather than learning how to control them, and the result is that you are allowing them to distort memory and reality. You need therapy.”

“No,” Sam said. “She doesn’t need your therapy. She’s got me.”

Maggie and Oxlade looked at him as if they had suddenly realized he was present.

“Are you an expert in lucid dreams, sir?” Oxlade’s expression made it plain he doubted that possibility. “Perhaps I’ve heard of you. I know everyone of importance in the field.”

“Allow me to introduce you to my research assistant,” Maggie said. “Mr. Sage, this is Emerson Oxlade.”

“Dr. Emerson Oxlade,” Oxlade corrected smoothly.

“Oxlade,” Sam said. He did not offer his hand.

Irritation sparked in Oxlade’s eyes but he suppressed it immediately. “What sort of research do you do, Sage?”

Maggie took charge. “I’m writing a book about quacks and charlatans in the dream analysis business. Mr. Sage is an expert on exposing frauds.”

Oxlade’s brows bunched together in deep concern. “You are hardly qualified to write that sort of book, Miss Smith. Or Lodge.”

“I disagree,” Maggie said. “I have had a great deal of experience identifying quacks. They are amazingly common.”

Rage flashed in Oxlade’s eyes. “Sadly, it appears your failure to accept professional guidance has led you down a dangerous path, Miss Lodge. I advise you to be very careful. There is considerable risk involved in slandering respected members of the medical profession. Annoy the wrong people and you will find yourself swamped with lawsuits.”

“Are you threatening Miss Lodge?” Sam asked, keeping his tone politely inquiring. “It sounds like you’re threatening her, but I like to be sure before I jump to conclusions.”

“I am giving Miss Lodge some professional advice,” Oxlade snapped. “I’ll give the same advice to you. Research assistants can be sued, too.”

He turned and stalked off into the crowd.

Sam watched him for a moment. “Care to tell me what that was all about?”

“That was about me letting my emotions get the best of my common sense.”

“Thought so. Generally speaking, professionals in the detective business do not recommend a loss of temper when you’re trying to stay undercover. It attracts attention.”

“I’m aware it was a mistake,” Maggie said, her voice tight. “Unfortunately, I lack experience in this sort of thing.”

“What’s done is done, so forget it, but you had better fill me in. What happened between the two of you?”

“About five months ago I made a couple of consultation appointments with Oxlade to discuss my dreams.”

“Why?”

“It requires a lot of skill to achieve control over a dream script. Gaining and keeping the techniques is an ongoing process, at least for me. I’m good, but far from perfect.”