Zolanda snorted softly. “A real psychic would tell you that there is no such thing as a coincidence.”
Thelma smiled. “But you aren’t a real psychic, are you? You’re just a damn good actress.”
Zolanda looked out the window. The morning fog had burned off. The golden light of the California sun flashed and sparkled on the Pacific. She thought about the day that she and her best friend had gotten off the train in Los Angeles with a couple of battered grips that contained all their worldly possessions.
Her dreams of stardom had kept her going for a time. She had worked the lunch-counter job and slept with too many sleazy bastards who claimed to be talent scouts or studio executives. But the guys had all been liars and cheats. She had never even managed to land a screen test. It was all so unfair because she possessed real talent.
Her best friend, however, had gotten lucky. In Hollywood, a woman’s face was her fortune, and Vera Westlake had a face the camera and the audience loved.
Zolanda tightened one hand into a fist. The rage welled up deep inside, as hot as ever. She did not try to suppress it. She savored it. The anger gave her strength. But she was very careful to keep her jealousy concealed behind the mask of Madam Zolanda, psychic to the stars.
She might not be the most beautiful woman in Hollywood, but she was a very talented actress. Tomorrow night she would prove it.
She realized that Thelma was watching her in the rearview mirroragain. There was no way she could know what was scheduled to happen tomorrow night. No possible way.
But one thing had become clear. Thelma would be a problem in the very near future. She knew too much, not just about the value of the secrets they had collected, but also about the past. Thelma knew everything. It was time for her to quietly disappear.
Chapter 7
The dream opened the way it often did...
She was walking through the deceptively serene gardens of the Rushbrook Sanitarium. She wore a hospital gown. The Duchess was with her, dressed in a style that had gone out of fashion for wealthy, well-bred ladies three decades earlier. The long skirts of her pale pink tea gown brushed the graveled path.
They spoke in low tones because the Duchess worried that the servants might be listening. Adelaide knew that was a very real possibility.
“I’ve told you before, dear, you should not return to this place,” the Duchess said. “You’re not like me. You don’t belong here.”
“I don’t want to return,” Adelaide said, “but I left something behind.”
“I strongly advise you not to come back. I no longer trust any of the servants.”
“Neither do I,” Adelaide said.
“You understand why you don’t belong here, don’t you?” the Duchess said. “You’re not crazy like the rest of us.”
“Gill and Ormsby told me that I had a nervous breakdown. What if it’s true?”
“Nonsense. I’ve been here since my eighteenth birthday. There’s no question but that I am crazy. So are all of the houseguests, except you.”
“Are you certain?”
“You are not like the rest of us. Trust me, I know the difference between sane and insane.”
“Do you want to leave, madam?”
“Of course not, dear.” The Duchess gave an airy wave with one gloved hand. “I have a responsibility to remain here, away from the view of polite society. One must not embarrass the family, after all. If I were to go out into the world, there would soon be rumors that the bloodline was tainted by a streak of insanity. Can’t have that, now, can we?”
Adelaide woke in a cold sweat, the way she always did after a dream about Rushbrook. She sat up on the side of the bed and waited for her pulse and breathing to slow to a more normal pace.
After a while she pulled on a robe, went downstairs, and made herself some tea. She used the special blend she kept on hand for the bad nights.
She’d had a lot of bad nights since she had first awakened to the nightmare that was the Rushbrook Sanitarium.
It was still dark outside but she knew she would not be able to go back to sleep. She took the freshly brewed tea into the living room, turned on a floor lamp, and picked up the new book she had purchased two days earlier. She curled up in the big, padded leather chair and started to read.
In the dream she had told the Duchess the truth. She had escaped the Rushbrook Sanitarium but she was not yet free. She had left something behind.
Chapter 8
