When She Dreams (Burning Cove #6)(83)

Sam took another swallow of his drink. “I’m concerned with the details because Miss Lodge was nearly murdered. If you were in my position, I think you would be equally interested.”

“I see,” Arthur said. “Your relationship with Miss Lodge is personal as well as professional, then?”

“Very personal,” Sam said. “I assume that answers your question?”

“My question?”

“You invited me here for drinks and a private conversation today because you want to know how things stand between Maggie and me.”

“I am curious, yes.”

“Because you’re attracted to her?”

“On many levels,” Arthur admitted. “Maggie is a very intriguing woman. Has she told you she and I share a talent for lucid dreaming?”

“You think you can use her talent here at the Institute, don’t you?”

“I admit I would very much like to have her on my staff.”

“Forget it,” Sam said. “I accepted your invitation because I’ve got a question of my own.”

Arthur looked at him. “What is that, Mr. Sage?”

“I understand Dolores’s motive for murdering those women, but why would she kill Oxlade? I got the impression the two of you needed him and his credentials as a respected dream analyst to enhance the image of the Institute and the Guilfoyle Method.”

“You have it backward,” Arthur said. “We didn’t need him as much as he needed us. Oxlade was difficult, to say the least. All he cared about was proving that his theories of lucid dreaming were valid. I’m sure Miss Lodge told you he lost his temper after the private demonstration.”

“Because you went off script and said the Traveler was planning to murder a woman here at the Institute.”

“I took a little dramatic license and made the prediction about the Traveler,” Arthur said. “I’m an actor at heart, Mr. Sage. I know when I’m not connecting with my audience. I sensed my performance needed a shot of excitement. Energy. Oxlade took offense at what he deemed my nonscientific approach.”

“I got the impression that until that night he believed you really were capable of extreme lucid dreaming, that you could take it to a higher plane and access your psychic side.”

Arthur chuckled. “I just told you, I’m an actor.”

“I get it. Was it hard to fool Oxlade?”

“Not at all. In some ways he was the easiest person to deceive. For a good actor, it’s the simplest thing in the world to fool someone like Oxlade. He wanted desperately to believe his drug worked. I gave him reasons to believe that.”

“But all the enhancer does is cause a person to hallucinate.”

“Yes.” Arthur smiled. “But it provides a very interesting experience if it is given under controlled conditions. I’ve used it a few times, myself. It makes most people extremely suggestible. Takes a strong talent to control it. I can handle the hallucinations and visions. I’m sure Miss Lodge can, as well. But you are not a powerful lucid dreamer, are you?”

Sam frowned, blinked a few times, and pressed his glass against his forehead. “You thought the drug would be useful for promoting the Guilfoyle Method.”

Arthur watched him with an air of anticipation. “Extremely useful.”

Sam lowered the glass, shook his head, and squinted.

“Which is why you went into a rage when you discovered Oxlade was leaving and taking the drug with him,” he said, the words slurred around the edges.

“So you figured that out, did you?” Arthur asked softly.

“That murder just didn’t fit with any of the others.”

“Because of the blood?”

“That and the fact that it wasn’t a very smart murder. There was some planning involved in the others, but killing Oxlade was an act of impulse, anger, and desperation.”

“What about the bloody clothes in the trunk of Larry Porter’s Ford? Didn’t that require some planning?”

“Yes, so Dolores handled that end of the business.” Sam turned away from the window and studied the flowers in a nearby vase. “But the murder? Nope. That was just dumb.” His words were getting mushier. “The search for the drug afterward was sloppy, too. Clothes hauled out of the suitcase and tossed onto the floor. Not like the search of Beverly Nevins’s hotel room. That was done in a careful way. It was not one hundred percent successful, but it was tidy. Dolores at work again.”

“What are you talking about?” Arthur demanded, voice sharpening.

Sam plucked an orchid out of the vase and held it up to the light. “Spectacular, isn’t it? Just think. Nature creates incredible beauty with such ease. Over and over again. Amazing.”

Arthur took a step toward him and stopped. “What do you know about the search of Nevins’s hotel room? Why did you say it was not a hundred percent successful?”

“What?” Sam dropped the orchid on the table and started to turn around. He stumbled a little and grabbed the padded arm of a massive reading chair to catch his balance. “Right. Nevins’s room. Whoever searched it found the diary but not the bracelet. Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”

Arthur stared at him. “You have the bracelet?”

“Yep. There’s a pretty little gold charm with the letters ATS on it, but it’s the inscription that will ruin you. To EN, the woman of my dreams. It’s signed Dream Master.” Sam winked. “We all know who the Dream Master was, don’t we?”