Something in her voice sent a jolt of raw panic through him.
“I agree that Guilfoyle is a fraud,” he said quickly. “I don’t know where he got that ridiculous story about the Traveler. I suppose he couldn’t resist the opportunity to shock his audience. He finds it impossible to resist the spotlight. He craves it.”
“I know, but the fascinating thing is that he was right about the Traveler. The spirit of the psychic assassin really was hunting me.”
“You?”
“Yes, but thanks to your drug I am strong enough to control it. The Traveler does my bidding now. Imagine how it feels to command such power. Then again, there is no need for you to use your imagination, is there? You have already witnessed the work of the Traveler.”
Oxlade risked a glance over his shoulder. Just a few more steps. If he could get into the villa he would be able to lock the door and phone the police.
“The Traveler is nothing more than a legend,” he said.
“You’re wrong, Dr. Oxlade. The Traveler is mine to command.”
“You’re delusional, Miss Lodge.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you? Just think, you have devoted your life to finding a way to access the power of the latent psychic senses. I am the living proof of your success.”
“You are imagining things. Hallucinating. Obviously the drug was too much for your delicate nerves.”
She giggled again. “If you’re right it means your enhancer is deeply flawed. It drives people mad. You don’t want to believe that, do you?”
Rage arced through him. “It’s not the drug that is at fault, you stupid woman. You are too weak to handle the effects. You should be in an asylum.”
“I don’t want to be locked up, Dr. Oxlade. That’s why I summoned the Traveler. He will protect me.”
“You are mad.”
“Is that what happened to Virginia Jennaway? Did you drive her insane with your drug? Is that why she walked into the ocean and drowned?”
The tide of horror was rising so quickly now he could no longer catch his breath. His heart pounded. Sweat trickled down his forehead into his eyes. He tried to blink away the moisture, but the effort blurred the scene, combining with the rain to turn the gardens into an ominous dreamscape.
A terrifying thought struck him. What if he was the one imagining things? Over the years he had been forced to run some experiments with the drug on himself. Perhaps he had gone too far.
“I don’t understand any of this,” he whispered. “Can’t you see I’m packing my car? I’m leaving tonight.”
“Tell me the truth about Jennaway’s death and I will send the Traveler back to the astral plane. He will not come for you.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Why did you murder Virginia Jennaway?”
He was beyond panic now. “I had nothing to do with what happened to Jennaway. It was an accident.” So much for the strong, authoritative voice. He knew he sounded shrill and frantic. “Why are you accusing me?”
“There are rumors that she died because of your drug.”
“That’s not true.”
“Convince me. What happened to Virginia Jennaway, Dr. Oxlade?”
“She was a fast, frivolous socialite who happened to have a little lucid dreaming talent. She loved the drug. Treated it like a cocktail. She wanted more of it. I warned her it was only in the experimental stage. I was still fine-tuning the formula, you see. She begged for it. When I wouldn’t give it to her, she stole some and apparently overdosed on it.”
“She stole a supply of the drug?”
“The day after she died I discovered that a vial of the enhancer was missing. She stole it and overdosed on it. She drowned because she was too weak to handle such a powerful drug. Evidently you are also too weak to control it. I have begun to think only a man can use it for the purpose of accessing the paranormal senses.”
He was almost at the door now. A few more steps and he would be inside. He would be safe.
“What about the rumors of the Traveler?”
“Ridiculous stories,” Oxlade yelped. “This has gone far enough. The only reason I agreed to attend the conference here at the Institute was because I was assured it would take a serious, scientific approach to dream research. I believed Guilfoyle when he went into his psychic dreaming act. But I realized tonight that he is a fraud. I am going to leave before my reputation is tarnished. Stay away from me.”
He fled up the steps and into the villa. Inside he dropped the suitcase and the umbrella, whirled around, slammed the door, and set the lock.
He slumped against the wall and tried to think. The Lodge woman was delusional and dangerous. The side effects of the drug had overwhelmed her frail nerves. She should be in an institution.
But what if the enhancer really had opened the door to her paranormal senses? Yes, Lodge was obviously too weak to control the enhancer, but in a way that only went to prove that it worked.
It was a thrilling thought. It was also another reason for leaving the Institute tonight, regardless of the rain. If the visibility got too bad, he would turn off onto a farm road and spend the night in his car. The important thing was to get away from the Institute.
He put his ear to the door and listened closely. When he didn’t hear anyone coming up the steps, he went to the window and peeked through the curtains.
The Lodge woman was gone. She had vanished into the rain-shrouded gardens. He shuddered. Now that he had some time to think, one thing was very clear: Margaret Lodge knew too much about everything, including the past. Calling the police would not only be pointless, it would be a terrible risk. Having her arrested might lead to questions he did not want to answer.
He collected himself and went down the hall to finish packing the second suitcase. He saved the journal and the Dopp kit for last.
Chapter 37
That didn’t go well,” Maggie said. “So much for my acting talent. I was sure I would be able to trick Oxlade into a confession.”
The rain was still falling. The path through the Institute gardens was muddy and difficult to make out. Sam had switched on the flashlight as soon as they were safely away from the villa. He kept it aimed low and shielded the glow.
“You did a great job of acting not normal,” Sam said.
“Thanks. I think.”
“I disagree with you about the result of your performance.” Sam stopped to open the service gate. “We picked up some valuable information.”
He was even more difficult to read than usual, but she could feel his sense of certainty. She went past him into the lane that ran behind the estate and held the umbrella for him while he relocked the gate. When he was finished they started back toward the hotel.
“Why do you say we got some information?” she asked. “Oxlade denied having anything to do with Jennaway’s death.”
“Not exactly. He told you a different story.”
“Do you believe his version of events?”
“He said Jennaway pleaded with him to give her the drug but he refused. The next thing he knew, a vial went missing. He assumed she stole it, overdosed, and drowned. That sounds like a reasonable conclusion. The good news is that if Oxlade was telling the truth, we can eliminate him as a suspect in Jennaway’s death.”
“I never got the chance to ask him about Beverly Nevins.”
“Only because he managed to escape into the villa,” Sam said.
“I frightened him, didn’t I?”
“Yep. You’re a born actress.”
“No, I had to learn how to act.”
“Either way, it worked.”
He wasn’t going to push her on the subject. She relaxed a little and shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat.
“Okay, so maybe Oxlade didn’t murder Jennaway,” she said. “Do you think he killed Nevins because she was blackmailing him over his connection to the Jennaway death?”
“If she was threatening his professional reputation, he definitely had motive—and probably means. He’s a doctor, after all. He knows a lot about drugs, and he knows how to obtain them.”
“If he didn’t murder Jennaway, we’re back to square one,” Maggie said, frustrated.