When She Dreams (Burning Cove #6)(39)

He moved into his own room and turned to look at her. “I have to tell you that is not exactly reassuring.”

“You’re a tough private detective. You can handle it.”

She closed the door and listened carefully. Sam did not turn the key on his side. She decided not to lock her side, either.





Chapter 20




This doesn’t make any sense,” Dolores Guilfoyle said. “There is no one named Finley in marketing or anywhere else here at the Institute. I don’t understand why that woman, Phyllis Gaines or whatever her name is, would tell you she was hired to pretend to be Aunt Cornelia.”

“She was very upset,” Maggie said. “Finding the body of Beverly Nevins was a shock to her nerves. It certainly rattled mine.”

The news of the death had appeared on page two of the Burning Cove Herald under the headline Tragedy Mars Opening of Dream Conference. Nevins’s death had been attributed to natural causes. There was no mention of the dream generator or drugs. There was also no indication the death had dampened enthusiasm for the conference. Eager attendees thronged the lobby of the Institute.

It had not been difficult to track down Dolores Guilfoyle. At a quarter to ten they had found her stationed at the entrance to the main lecture hall, greeting people as they filed into the large room to take their seats. There was no sign of her husband.

When Maggie had mentioned that Phyllis Gaines had left town during the night, Dolores had not appeared to recognize the name. Sam’s casual observation that Gaines had been masquerading as Aunt Cornelia, however, had hit Guilfoyle like a jolt of electricity.

“That can’t be right,” she hissed. “I don’t believe it.”

Sam shrugged. “That’s what she told us. Gaines could have been lying, but it didn’t look that way. Why would she be?”

“This . . . this is shocking,” Dolores whispered.

As far as Maggie could tell, the alarm in her eyes was genuine.

Dolores raised a finger to get the attention of a nearby dream guide. The attractive young woman hurried forward. When she got close, Maggie was able to read her name tag: Valerie Warren.

“Yes, Mrs. Guilfoyle?” Valerie said.

She was polite; an employee showing the proper degree of respect to her boss. But it struck Maggie that she was a little too polite and deferential—as if she was trying to conceal her dislike of the other woman.

“Please welcome the rest of our guests to Mr. Guilfoyle’s lecture,” Dolores said. “I have some business to discuss with Miss Lodge and her research assistant.”

There was a glacial edge on her words. Evidently she didn’t like Valerie any more than Valerie liked her.

A scene from last night’s dream flashed through Maggie’s memory. She saw herself opening a door and finding Dolores Guilfoyle inside the room. Dolores’s words echoed faintly in the shadows: Stay away from my husband.

“Yes, Mrs. Guilfoyle,” Valerie said.

She rushed back to the entrance of the lecture hall.

Dolores looked at Maggie and Sam. “Please come with me.”

She led the way to a quiet alcove and then turned to confront them.

“Are you absolutely certain Phyllis Gaines was impersonating Aunt Cornelia?” she said.

“There is no doubt about it,” Maggie said.

“Damn.” Dolores’s elegant jaw tensed. “May I ask what made you drive to that woman’s cottage last night?”

“We were on our way into town to find a restaurant,” Sam said. “We took Cliff Road. When we passed the cottage where Aunt Cornelia was staying, we noticed she was putting suitcases into her car. It was obvious she was about to leave.”

Maggie was impressed with the smooth way he delivered his lines. She was determined to give an equally good performance. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had a lot of practice deceiving people into thinking she did not belong in an asylum. She was a rather skilled liar herself.

“I couldn’t resist the opportunity to tell Aunt Cornelia how much I enjoy her columns,” she said. “We stopped to talk to her, and that’s when she told us she wasn’t the real Cornelia.”

“Bizarre.” Dolores shook her head. “Absolutely bizarre. I realize there is no shortage of frauds in the world, but this is astonishing. I can’t understand why she would do such a thing. All I can tell you is that Phyllis Gaines convinced my husband and me, as well as the local press, that she was the real Aunt Cornelia.”

“It did make for some great publicity for the Institute,” Sam said.

Fury blazed in Dolores’s eyes. “I can assure you no one affiliated with the Institute hired anyone to impersonate Cornelia for marketing purposes or for any other reason. That’s not how we do things here.” She paused, eyes widening. “When word gets out that the Institute was taken in by a charlatan, we will become a laughingstock.”

Maggie summoned up a reassuring smile. “I assure you, Mr. Sage and I have no reason to gossip about Phyllis Gaines.”

That much was true, she thought.

“Thank you.” Dolores sighed. “I would take it as an enormous favor if you would not mention your conversation with Gaines, but I’m afraid it will be impossible to keep this news out of the papers. People are bound to notice that Aunt Cornelia has suddenly disappeared. There will be questions. Rumors. If a reporter gets curious, we will be doomed.”