Page 56 of When She Dreams

“Not in this situation.”

He shrugged. She might be right.

Valerie opened the back door and got into the car. Sam and Maggie turned to watch her.

“Please tell us about the Traveler,” Maggie asked.

“Where’s the money?” Valerie asked.

Maggie plucked several bills out of her handbag and held them up so that Valerie could see them.

“Thanks,” Valerie snapped the cash out of Maggie’s fingers. “I’ll make this fast.” She leaned forward and kept her voice low, even though no one outside the car could have heard her. “I’m leaving town tonight. I don’t want to drive the highway back to L.A. after dark, but if I wait until dawn there will probably be fog like there was this morning.”

“You’re leaving town?” Maggie asked.

“As fast as I can,” Valerie said. “We don’t get paid until the end of the week, but I’m not going to stick around, not after what happened to that Nevins woman in the theater last night. They used to hold séances in there, you know. That room gives me the creeps.”

“We’re here for information,” Sam said. “We’re not interested in ghost stories.”

“Right, okay,” Valerie said. “I couldn’t hear everything you said to Mrs. Guilfoyle this morning, but I know you asked her about the Traveler.”

“That’s right,” Maggie said. “What do you know about the legend?”

“He’s some sort of spirit that lives on the astral plane. Murderspeople in their dreams. The other dream guides are saying it might have been the Traveler who murdered Beverly Nevins.”

“Who, exactly, is saying the Traveler murdered Nevins?” Sam asked.

“I just told you, the other dream guides—Larry, Jake, and Gloria. But they all smoked some of Larry’s reefers last night after everyone left, so maybe they just imagined the story about the Traveler.”

“It’s a minor legend in the dream analysis community,” Maggie said. “I wonder how your friends heard about the Traveler.”

“Mr. Guilfoyle told us about the Traveler during one of the training sessions we took after we were hired,” Valerie said. “We figured he was just trying to impress us. None of us really believe in that psychic dreaming stuff, you see. But we’re pretty sure Arthur Guilfoyle does believe in it.”

“What do you think happened to Beverly Nevins?” Sam asked.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the Guilfoyles murdered her,” Valerie said, her voice fierce with rage.

“Why?” Sam said.

“That bastard Guilfoyle probably slept with her and then got bored and ended things,” Valerie muttered. “That’s what he does, you see. Seduces a girl and then drops her when he gets tired of her. I bet Nevins showed up at the conference and threatened to make a scene, so they got rid of her.”

“Which Guilfoyle did it?” Maggie asked.

Valerie shrugged. “I don’t know. Could have been either one. She’s mean as a snake and he’s a lying, cheating son of a bitch. Also, I think he’s unbalanced.”

“Because he believes in the connection between lucid dreaming and the paranormal senses?” Maggie asked quietly.

“Yes,” Valerie said. “You have to be cuckoo to really believe that stuff, right?”

Sam knew Maggie was about to lose her temper. He touched her hand, willing her to keep her mouth shut.

She appeared to get the message.

“You said Guilfoyle has a habit of sleeping with women and then dropping them,” Maggie said. “Are you speaking from personal experience, Valerie?”

“Yes, if you must know.” Valerie clenched her hands on her lap. “He’s a real creep. Makes you think you’re special. Says you have a natural talent for psychic dreaming. Says you can fly with him on the astral plane. Calls you his soul mate. Then he dumps you.”

Maggie looked at Sam, evidently uncertain how to respond. He kept his attention on Valerie.

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