When She Dreams (Burning Cove #6)(42)

“The theater where Miss Nevins died?” Maggie asked.

“Yes,” Dolores said. “My husband responds to the aura in that room.”

“He believes in ghosts and spirits?” Sam asked.

“No, of course not,” Dolores said, irritated. “It’s simply that Arthur finds the atmosphere in the theater conducive to allowing him to enter the trance state. It was remodeled for the purpose of presenting private demonstrations and small-group dream experiences.”

“You said only a few guests would be invited?” Sam asked.

“Just those who have shown a keen interest in discovering the secrets of the Guilfoyle Method,” Dolores said. She spoke without looking at Sam.

“How many other guests?” Sam continued, undaunted by the fact that he was being given a very cold shoulder.

“Twelve in all, if you must know,” Dolores said, her tone sharpening. “Our guest of honor, Dr. Oxlade, will serve as guide and dream interpreter for the audience.”

“Arthur Guilfoyle needs an interpreter?” Sam asked a little too politely.

Maggie decided to step in before the situation could deteriorate further.

“It all sounds absolutely fascinating,” she said quickly. “Mr. Sage and I would be pleased to observe one of Mr. Guilfoyle’s readings.”

Dolores blinked a couple of times, glanced at Sam, and then turned back to Maggie. “I’m afraid it won’t be possible for your assistant to accompany you, Miss Lodge. This will be a very exclusive reading.”

Sam’s eyes tightened at the corners. Maggie knew he was preparing to interrupt again. She shot him a warning look and then smiled at Dolores.

“I understand,” she said. “Thank you so much for this amazing opportunity. I shall look forward to the event tomorrow night.”

“Excellent.” Dolores was clearly relieved. “I’ll see that you receive a proper invitation with the details.”

She hurried away.

“Well, that was interesting,” Sam said. “You have been invited to a private demonstration of a Guilfoyle dream reading.”

“I appear to have catapulted up several rungs on the Guilfoyle social ladder,” Maggie observed.

“The question is, why?”

“And why go to great lengths to make sure you don’t accompany me?”

“I think the plan is to separate us,” Sam said.

“Why would Dolores Guilfoyle do that?”

“You’re writing a book intended to expose fraudulent dream analysts and you are here to study the Guilfoyle Method. The Guilfoyles have a big investment to protect. They want to ensure that you make the Institute look good. I’m just a lowly research assistant. It’s not me they have to impress. You’re the writer, so you’re the one who matters.”

Maggie raised her brows. “And maybe the Guilfoyles really are grateful for the excellent advice I gave them this morning.”

“Maybe. Either way, this is a very convenient opportunity.”

“For what?”

“Your old pal Emerson Oxlade will be at the demonstration.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Fortunately,” Sam said. “With him out of the way for the evening I’ll be able to take a look around his villa.”

Maggie cheered up at that news. “That is an excellent plan.”

“Not to brag, but I came up with it all by myself.”



* * *





At five o’clock that afternoon they walked back to the hotel.

“If I have to sit through any more lectures from perky dream guides informing me about the wonders of the Guilfoyle Method and suggesting I sign up immediately, I’m going to need a large bottle of whiskey,” Sam said.

“Have you been a skeptic all your life?” Maggie asked, amused but also curious.

“I was raised on a farm, and I went into a career of police work. The combination teaches you to take a realistic approach to life. Psychic powers can’t ensure a good harvest, and lucid dreams don’t solve cases.”

“I understand your objections to the Guilfoyle Method,” Maggie said. “But you should keep an open mind.”

She smiled at the doorman who was ushering them into the lobby of the Sea Dream Hotel. He touched his fingers to his hat.

The last conference event of the day had been conducted by the dream guides named Valerie and Gloria. Following a detailed explanation of the various levels of lucid dreaming that could be achieved through the Guilfoyle Method, Valerie had explained that an exclusive discount on a package of ten private sessions designed to impart the secrets of the Method was available to attendees who signed up before the end of the conference. Gloria had made it clear that those who registered would receive a monthly magazine and a monthly bill.

While the women carried on enthusiastically about the promise of the Method, the two male guides, Larry and Jake, sat at a table at the side of the room signing up those who decided to embark on the program.

“If the Method is as good as the Guilfoyles claim, it shouldn’t be necessary to give it such a hard sell,” Sam said.

“Shush,” Maggie said.

She stopped at the front desk and smiled at the clerk. “Room two fifteen, please.”

“Certainly, Miss Lodge,” the clerk said. “And two seventeen for you, Mr. Sage.”