When She Dreams (Burning Cove #6)(79)

    Larry is innocent. I can prove it. Please help me. The ladies’ lounge. Ten minutes.



Smart choice of a rendezvous location, Maggie thought. Gloria must have guessed she would hesitate to meet a woman she barely knew in the night-shrouded gardens or in one of the Institute’s empty seminar rooms. But the ladies’ lounge was safe. There would be women walking in and out at unpredictable times. Given the size of the crowd tonight and the amount of liquor flowing, the restroom was bound to be doing a steady business.

The location had one other singular asset—no man, including Arthur Guilfoyle, would dream of stepping foot inside.

She glanced at the tall, old-fashioned clock standing near the alcove and decided to start making her way toward the hall that led to the women’s room. It was going to take a few minutes to move through the crowd at a discreet pace that would not draw attention.

When she reached the entrance to the corridor she paused to check on the whereabouts of the Guilfoyles. They were both chatting with enthusiastic guests.

Satisfied, she moved into the hallway and went briskly toward the ladies’ lounge. When she was a few steps away from the door, a fortyish woman in a mauve evening gown emerged. She was in a hurry. When she saw Maggie, she paused.

“I’d advise you not to go in there,” she said in confidential tones. “A woman is in one of the stalls. She is quite ill. Food poisoning, apparently. She told me there was a smaller facility available in the north wing.”

“I see,” Maggie said.

Gloria had apparently found a way to ensure some privacy for their conversation.

She waited until the helpful woman in mauve had disappeared back into the lobby and then pushed open the door of the women’s room. She walked into a luxuriously appointed lounge. A row of dressing table stools covered in pink satin sat in front of a long lacquer table and a bank of mirrors. Beyond was the entrance to a tiled room and a row of stalls.

The lounge was empty. That was no doubt due to the sounds of violent retching that emanated from behind the door of the one occupied stall.

“Gloria?”

The retching stopped immediately. The stall opened and Gloria rushed out. Her face was flushed from the effort of pretending to be ill. She had a sign in one hand—Closed for Cleaning.

“Thank you so much for coming, Miss Lodge,” she said. “Just a minute.”

She shot past Maggie, opened the door of the women’s room long enough to hang the sign outside, and then ducked back into the lounge and locked the door.

She slumped against the door for a few seconds, catching her breath.

“I’ve never been so scared in my life,” she whispered. “You’ve got to help me save Larry. He didn’t kill Dr. Oxlade, I swear it.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Look, Larry smokes reefers now and again to relax. Who doesn’t? But he’s not a dope fiend. The marijuana the cops found in his room is probably his, but not the cocaine and those pills.”

“What about the clothes in the trunk of his car?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The killer put them there to frame Larry.”

“You said you could prove Larry was innocent. How do you plan to do that?”

“He was with me last night—the whole night. But no one will believe me on account of the drugs. They’ll say I was lying to protect him.”

Maggie heard a door open behind her. She whirled around in time to watch Dolores Guilfoyle walk out of a supply closet, a black-beaded evening bag clutched in one gloved hand. There was a pistol in her other hand.

“Gloria can’t prove anything,” Dolores said. “You have caused more than enough trouble, Miss Lodge. This ends tonight.”





Chapter 47




The pistol Dolores gripped was a small one, to be sure, but Sam’s words shivered through Maggie. A small pistol can be just as scary as a big one at close quarters.

“I’m sorry, Miss Lodge,” Gloria whispered.

“What did she promise you in exchange for your help getting me alone tonight?” Maggie asked. She did not take her eyes off Dolores.

“She said she would hire the best lawyer in town to help Larry,” Gloria said. Her thin, sad voice indicated she now knew that wasn’t going to happen.

“I promised her I would make sure Larry walked free if she did as I asked,” Dolores said.

The gun did not waver in her hand. She appeared to be cool and in control. It was obviously not the first time she had done this sort of thing. But there was an air of hot, frantic excitement about her that indicated she was close to some inner edge.

“You’re not going to get Larry out of jail, are you?” Maggie said. “You need him to take the fall for Oxlade’s murder.”

“I’m afraid so,” Dolores said.

Gloria whimpered.

“Shut up,” Dolores said. “You are only useful to me as long as you do what I tell you.”

Gloria’s mouth opened and closed. She stared at Maggie with the same desperate look in her eyes that had been there earlier when she had offered the note on a tray and silently pleaded for help.

“What’s this all about?” Maggie said to Dolores.

“I don’t have time to stand around chatting,” Dolores said. She motioned with the pistol. “Into the supply closet, both of you. There’s a door inside. It leads to a hallway. Hurry. We’ve got to make this fast. I have to get back to the lobby before I’m missed. Move.”