When She Dreams (Burning Cove #6)(5)

Sam nodded. “Definitely personal experience talking. Think Asking for a Friend’s friend will take your advice?”

“Who knows?” Maggie sighed. “People are very quick to ask for advice, but they rarely take it. The truth is, all they usually want to do is whine about their problems. They lack the fortitude and determination it takes to actually do something about them.”

“Interesting.” Sam leaned back. The chair squeaked. “That’s certainly been my experience. Who would have thought the private detective business and the advice columnist profession would have anything in common?”

A flicker of intuition told her he was not being sarcastic this time. Just quietly amused. That was annoying. She was not here to entertain him.

“How would you have answered Asking for a Friend’s letter?” she asked.

“Same way you did,” he said.

She relaxed a little.

“Don’t worry, I am prepared to pay you for your time,” she said.

“I am glad to hear that. I appreciate your patience, because until this morning I had never heard of Aunt Cornelia.”

“Do you, perhaps, limit yourself to the sports page of the papers?”

“I’ve been known to read the comics.”

She gave him a chilly smile. “That explains why you aren’t aware of the Dear Aunt Cornelia column. It happens to be one of the most widely syndicated advice columns in the country. It started in the Adelina Beach Courier and it appears six days a week in the Home and Hearth section. That comes right after the society page.”

“I only read the Society page when I’m working a case that involves that crowd, which is, frankly, as seldom as possible,” he said.

Her curiosity spiked. “You’ve conducted investigations in society?”

“I was a homicide detective for a few years,” he said. “I know you’ll be shocked to hear this, but rich and famous people kill each other, too.”

“Were you good at your job?”

“Yes, I was, but like you, I found the work frustrating.”

“Why?”

“Rich and famous people kill each other but they rarely go to prison.”

She nodded. “Money equals power, and power leads to corruption.”

“Often enough to be annoying.”

“Where did you work when you were in the police?” she asked.

“Started in Seattle. A couple of years ago I moved to L.A.”

That jolted her. “You were a police detective in Los Angeles?”

“For a while.”

Her spirits sank. “I see.”

He eyed her warily. “Is there a problem?”

“No, no, of course not.”

His jaw tightened. “There’s a problem. What is it?”

“I don’t want to insult you—”

“Go ahead, I’m used to it.”

She cleared her throat. “It’s just that the Los Angeles Police Department is rumored to be in the pockets of the studios and the tycoons who run the city.”

“I no longer work in L.A. I was fired.”

It was her turn to watch him closely. “Do you mind if I ask why?”

“I arrested the wrong man.” He tapped the letter. “Let’s return to your case. I assume you did not contact the Adelina Beach police about the blackmail threat?”

“Absolutely not. That letter practically accuses Aunt Cornelia of murder. My employer’s career and her reputation would be ruined if it got out that she was in any way linked to a homicide.”

“Have you considered the possibility that your employer might have been involved in the death of the Jennaway woman?” Sam asked.

“No. I’m sure Miss Dewhurst did not murder anyone.”

“What makes you so certain?”

“Intuition. I’ve worked for her for over two months now. My office is in her house. I’ve spent a great deal of time with her. There is nothing about Lillian Dewhurst that would make me suspect she’s capable of murder. Read the letter, Mr. Sage. Please. There’s a newspaper clipping enclosed.”

He extracted the note from the envelope and unfolded it. The clipping fluttered onto the blotter.

He read the letter aloud without inflection:

    Dear Aunt Cornelia:

Those who believe that murder by dreams leaves no evidence are wrong. The price of silence is a thousand dollars. Purchase a ticket to the opening conference of the Guilfoyle Institute in Burning Cove and bring the money in cash. You will receive further instructions after you arrive.

Yours in nightmares,

The Traveler



“I see the blackmailer has a taste for melodrama,” Sam said. He put down the letter and picked up the yellowed newspaper clipping. His tone turned thoughtful as he read.

    Keeley Point—Early this morning the body of Miss Virginia Jennaway was found washed ashore not far from her cottage. A lawyer for the family reported that Miss Jennaway evidently decided to take a moonlight stroll on the beach and was overtaken by a rogue wave that carried her out to sea, where she drowned. The family is devastated and has requested privacy.



Sam set the clipping aside and looked at Maggie. She held her breath. If he turned down her case she would have no choice but to try her luck with the Los Angeles phone book.