Evidently Oxlade decided not to leave after all,” Sam said.
He stopped on the garden path and looked at the sedan sitting in front of the guest villa. His cop intuition wasn’t just whispering—it was shrieking a warning.
It was ten thirty. After the early-morning meeting with Raina, he and Maggie had returned to the hotel for a late breakfast and then opted to walk to the Institute for what was supposed to have been Oxlade’s lecture. He wanted to see the reactions of everyone involved when it became evident Oxlade wasn’t going to show up. The path took them through the lush grounds and close to the villa.
“I definitely rattled his nerves last night with my dazzling performance as an unhinged woman,” Maggie said. “He must have been too upset to drive back to L.A.”
“He was shaken last night,” Sam said. “But I think that would have made him even more determined to get away from Burning Cove as fast as possible. Let’s talk to him.”
Maggie glanced at her watch. “It’s almost time for his lecture. Maybe he decided that as long as he’s still here, he might as well present it. After all, it’s a great opportunity to attract new patients.”
“Given Oxlade’s mood last night, I can’t see him lending any more of his professional credibility to the Guilfoyle Method. He won’t be giving a lecture this morning.”
“You’re right,” Maggie said. “So why is he still here?”
They walked to the villa. Sam checked the trunk of Oxlade’s car. It was unlocked and empty. He went up the steps and rapped sharply on the front door. Maggie stood to one side.
There was no response.
“He’s probably not feeling very friendly toward me at the moment,” Maggie volunteered. “If he sees me out here, he won’t open the door.”
Sam tried the knob. “Unlocked.” He eased the door open and looked down the length of the gloom-filled front hall. “The curtains are closed and the lights are off. Stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t think I’m going to find anything good inside.”
“Maybe he’s still asleep,” Maggie offered. She did not sound optimistic.
“Just promise me you’ll wait out here.”
“I promise.”
He reached under the edge of his jacket and slipped the pistol out of the shoulder holster. Maggie gave the weapon an uneasy look but she did not comment.
He left the door open and went into the gloom.
He wasn’t surprised when he found the body, and he wasn’t startled to discover that the cologne bottle was missing.
It was the blood-spattered bathroom and the hammer that came as a shock. They changed everything.
Chapter 43
Why?” Maggie asked. “What difference does it make that Oxlade was murdered with a hammer?”
“It indicates there’s a second killer involved,” Sam said. “The first prefers to use drugs. They make for a neat, clean kill and leave very little evidence. The other killer doesn’t give a damn about being tidy. He may have been in a rage or maybe he got too excited. Maybe he’s simply insane. Hard to say. Whatever the case, he was after the enhancer. He took the cologne bottle.”
“He?” Maggie asked sharply. “Are you sure the killer is a man?”
They were standing outside the entrance to the guest villa. The driveway was packed with police cars, an ambulance, and a handful of uniformed officers. There was also a crowd of curious onlookers, including the three dream guides, various members of the Institute staff, and several conference attendees.
Dolores and Arthur Guilfoyle were on the front steps of the villa, talking to Detective Brandon. Maggie couldn’t hear what was being said, but it was obvious that Arthur was agitated. He seemed to be pleading with Brandon. Dolores stood quietly, her posture rigid, her face grim. She did not look shocked so much as outraged.
Another publicity problem for the Institute, Maggie thought.
A short time ago a reporter and a photographer had arrived in a speedster convertible. The woman behind the wheel had jumped out, notebook and pencil in hand, and announced that she was Irene Ward, the crime beat reporter for the Burning Cove Herald.
She had headed directly toward the open door of the villa, photographer in tow. Brandon had ordered both to stay out of the house. Irritated, Ward had directed the man with the camera to grab as many photos of the scene outside the villa as possible, and then she had started moving through the crowd, talking to anyone and everyone.
“I can’t be absolutely certain the killer is a man,” Sam said. “But the fact that whoever it was used a hammer and didn’t have a problem creating that scene in the bathroom makes me think it’s the most likely possibility. Women usually prefer not to get covered in blood and . . . other stuff if they can avoid it.”
“What other stuff?” Maggie asked.
“You don’t want to know,” Sam said. “My point is, whoever murdered Oxlade would have left the villa with a lot of gore on his clothes.”
Maggie realized he was studying the crowd, not the Guilfoyles.
“Who are you looking at?” she asked
“The two male dream guides, Larry and Jake.”
Maggie followed his gaze and saw the young men. They appeared to be trying to get Irene Ward’s attention.
“They want to get their names in the papers,” Maggie said. She paused, thinking. “I see what you mean about the unlikelihood of a woman using a hammer. I would certainly grab one in self-defense if that was all that was available, but if I planned to murder someone, I would want to keep some distance between myself and the other person, especially if I was attempting to murder a man. It isn’t just the notion of getting covered in blood. It’s common sense. I wouldn’t want to get too close and take the risk of being overpowered.”
“You’re taking notes for your book again, aren’t you?”
“Just making an observation.”
“Liar. But your observation is interesting.”
“Because it confirms your theory?” Maggie asked.
“No, because it makes me think the killer didn’t have time to do a lot of planning. A pistol would make too much noise, especially in the middle of the night. It would have awakened the three dream guides in their quarters. The hammer was probably convenient, and it was guaranteed to be a lot more quiet than a gun.”
“There must be a lot of tools stored here on the grounds of the Institute,” Maggie said. “A place this big and this old is in need of constant minor repairs.”
“There’s a toolshed behind the hotel, too,” Sam said. “Tools are expensive. Both sheds are probably locked at night. If the hammer that was used on Oxlade came from either of them—”
“It would indicate that whoever murdered Oxlade knows his way around the Institute and the hotel,” Maggie said.
“Right. Brandon will figure that out, just as we did.” Sam stopped talking because the detective was coming toward them. “Listen to me, Maggie. You will not volunteer your personal connection to Oxlade, and above all you will not tell Brandon you think the doctor once tried to poison you.”
“But—”
“If you breathe a word about how much you loathed Oxlade and why, you will go straight to the top of Brandon’s list of suspects.”
Startled, Maggie stared at him. “But I thought we agreed he’ll be looking for a male suspect.”
“Oxlade was a well-known figure in the world of dream research. His death is going to be big news, especially given the violence involved and the fact that it happened here at the Institute. That means Brandon will be under a lot of pressure to make an arrest. We don’t want to give him an excuse to put you in jail.”
“Okay, I get it,” Maggie said.
“Also, it wouldn’t look good for Sage Investigations if the firm’s first client gets arrested for murder. I’d be lucky to even get divorce work after that kind of press.”
Maggie sniffed. “Nice to know you’re putting your client’s interests first.”
“Don’t mention the Jennaway case, either. I’ll handle that.”