“One thing is clear,” Raina said. She closed the notebook. “The Guilfoyles have to make the Institute pay off. If it doesn’t start making money soon, they will be destroyed financially.”
“Dreams and drugs,” Sam said. “You really can’t go wrong selling either one, can you?”
“Wrap up both in one package, tie it with a pretty ribbon, sell it to a few stars, and you’ve got the foundation of a financial empire,” Raina said. “Do you need anything else from me?”
“Not right now.” Sam took out a business card and gave it to her. “I appreciate the help. I owe you, and I’m happy to repay the favor. I’m in Adelina Beach. Call if there is anything I can do for you there. I’ve still got a few good connections in L.A., as well.”
Raina smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Our business runs on connections. I am always happy to find a new one.”
“Don’t forget the bill,” Maggie said.
“I won’t.” Raina looked at her. “One more thing before I leave.”
“Yes?”
“About the advice you suggested I give to the artist who painted the landscapes in Luther’s office.”
Maggie braced herself. “I’m sorry; I should have kept my mouth shut. I realize I had no business offering that advice.”
“I want to thank you,” Raina said.
“You do?”
“This morning when I stopped by Luther’s office to tell him I was on my way to meet you, I found him in his studio. Painting.”
“Another stormy landscape?” Maggie asked, her heart sinking.
Raina smiled. “No. Looked like a couple of doors in an endless hallway.”
Chapter 42
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.”
