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nobody’s fault. None of us could have predicted this would happen. All we did was offer her a warm welcome.”
    She turned to our new members, Etta Mae Beasley and Edward Giles. “You’re going to join us for the meeting, right?” The two new members were hanging back uncertainly, and I had the distinct feeling they weren’t the least bit eager to go upstairs to our apartment. Did they really think we had deliberately harmed Sonia? Or was it just a natural desire to escape the unpleasantness of the past half hour?
    â€œI think I should be going—” Edward began, but Dorien grabbed him firmly by the arm. “That’s silly,” Dorien said, lifting her jaw a little. “You’re new to the group, and we have a lot to process here. Whatever happens with Sonia, we all know that something significant took place here today. We need to use our collective energy to learn more about the situation.” Her voice was as brittle as glass, her face tense. Dorien’s abrasive personality was never far from the surface.
    â€œCollective energy?” Edward’s eyebrows shot up. He looked like he wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into.
    â€œYes,” Dorien said flatly. “And never forget the power of the collective unconscious. That’s why we formed the Dream Club. Dreams are the royal road to the unconscious.” She shot Edward a meaningful look, and I wondered if he’d get the reference. “I suppose you know that?”
    â€œThat’s from Freud, right?” Apparently Edward knew his psychology.
    â€œYes, of course,” Dorien added in her blunt way. Edward looked unconvinced but trudged dutifully after Dorien. Etta Mae was as silent as a sphinx, her arms folded across her chest, until Sybil urged her forward.
    â€œEdward and Etta Mae, you’re new to the club and you’ll be interested to know that we solved a murder once,” Persia offered, “just a few months ago.” She looped her arm through Etta Mae’s and fell into step behind Edward and Dorien.
    â€œReally? I had no idea.” Edward brightened a little, his eyes widening with interest. He stopped to take a breath on the landing and then took the final step into the apartment. Ali bustled around the kitchen, grabbing a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator. She placed it on a lacquered tray on the coffee table with some cranberry-colored glasses and a platter of brownies, and urged everyone to help themselves.
    â€œActually, it was two murders,” Persia went on, settling herself on the sofa. Edward took a seat across from her and the Harper sisters squeezed together on a settee. Dorien grabbed a comfy upholstered chair, and the rest of us pulled over kitchen chairs.
    Persia waited until she had everyone’s attention before continuing. “Looking back, we saw loads of hints in our dream material. A lot of imagery and symbolism. They werelike premonitions. All we had to do was talk it out, and we came up with some amazing interpretations, didn’t we, Ali?”
    â€œYes, we certainly did,” Ali admitted. “That’s what dream interpretation is about: analyzing content and trying to pull out the secrets. I think we finally convinced Taylor that this isn’t just a lot of hocus-pocus.” She smiled at me and I looked at her fondly. We’d certainly become closer since I’d moved to Savannah to help turn her failing business around. And my skepticism about the Dream Club had all but disappeared. I’d seen the group in action and it was hard to not be impressed by their keen insights and their creative approaches to solving a murder.
    That caught Etta Mae’s attention. “Really? You somehow tapped into your dreams to find the killer?”
    Sybil nodded. “We just put our heads together and made a pledge to think about poor Chico every night.” Chico, a dance instructor who owned a studio right