Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 01 - Spouse Trap (15 page)

TWENTY-SIX

Madeline awoke to a spectacular sunrise as the sun lit the banks of clouds from underneath, coloring them vibrant hues of rose madder and vermillion. It was a thrilling sight, and for a moment she forgot about her current circumstances. The temporary memory loss was soon filled by a crowd of concerns, all clamoring to be addressed.

In an effort to elude them, she dressed for a run and did an abbreviated stretching routine. The cloud cover made it cooler than the previous day, a reminder that winter wasn’t officially over yet. She zipped up her hoodie and headed for the hills.

Being in motion always made her feel better, as though it were physically possible to outrun her problems. To stretch out the time away from the hotel room, she detoured to one of the downtown coffee houses and had a breakfast of berries and yogurt, a latte and a scone. Afterwards, she meandered down State Street, enjoying the mostly deserted streets. As distant church bells chimed nine o’clock, she turned up Garden Street, heading for the inn. It wasn’t until she was fifty feet from the entrance that she spotted Burt leaning against his car.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” she asked as she got closer.

“About forty minutes. I take it you didn’t have either phone on you.” Madeline came to a stop in front of him. “For safety’s sake, you shouldn’t go out without one.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I guess I needed that feeling of complete freedom.”

“Understandable,” Burt allowed. “No skin off my nose. I bill by the hour.” Madeline smirked at this.

“What brings you out so early?”

“I’ve been up for hours, working on your case.” Burt checked his watch. 9:35. “How long will it take for you to change and get ready?” he asked.

“Depends. Where are we going?”

“Back to The Edgecliff. I’ve got another theory I want to check out.”

“In that case, I’m going to need a shower, so give me fifteen,” she said, as she headed toward the lobby.

Madeline parked just up the street from Burt’s car. They had both found spots on the back side of The Edgecliff Hotel.

“So, tell me about this theory of yours,” she said, as she met Burt on the pathway into the hotel grounds.

“First let’s try to retrace your steps again,” he said. When Madeline made no move to follow him, he stopped and regarded her. “It’s okay, Madeline. It’s daylight, I’m by your side. We’re going to approach from a different direction, then retrace our steps, if we need to. But this has to be done. I’ve got to know for sure which room you were in. It’s the only way I’m going to find out who the room was registered to.”

Madeline gave herself two seconds to pull her courage together.
It’s like jumping off the high dive,
she told herself;
the scariest part is the anticipation.
She nodded to Burt and fell in behind him. When the path widened, he slowed up until they were in step together.

“Let’s just take this slow. Try to put yourself back in the moment when you made your exit.”

Madeline’s eyes roved from side to side as she searched for anything that might trigger a memory, or a sense of recognition. Burt had been right about one thing: the setting seemed much more benign in the full light of day. The path curved, leading them to the left. If they had continued going straight, they would’ve come to the main building’s garden entrance.

They had walked only a few steps when Madeline grabbed Burt by the arm. They stopped as a feeling came over her, like a body memory. She could barely breathe as she cautiously approached a set of French doors. She turned, pretending to be stepping through them. She scrutinized everything in her path, trying to visualize that morning one week ago. She gasped as she stared down at the pathway, transfixed by a vague recollection.

“What is it?” Burt asked, coming up beside her as she scanned the sidewalk for confirmation of her discovery.

“See the wet mark right here?” she asked, pointing at the arc of damp on the sidewalk. A quick check confirmed that the sprinklers in the other beds nearby did not overshoot their mark. Burt bent down and examined the head. By looking at it he could see that someone had placed a full spray head on the stem instead of a half, probably installed temporarily until they got the right part.

“I remember getting hit with the spray on my bare legs,” Madeline said, staring at the mark on the walkway. “I had my gown hiked up because I was carrying my shoes. The water hit my calves.”

“Good work. Now let’s see if there are any other spots like this on the grounds.”

Like a pair of bloodhounds, they continued on until they reached the sidewalk that ran along the beach road. Finding no other evidence of over-spraying, they reversed direction and walked all the way back to where they had entered the grounds. Other than that one spot, the walkways were dry. To further test Madeline’s story, Burt examined each head in the dry areas to make sure the sun or breeze hadn’t dried up other wet marks.

“Excellent,” Burt said, pulling a grounds map from his pocket as he walked to the wet pavement. “Okay. So, are you sure about which side you came out on?”

“I’m positive.”

“And can you recall for certain how far you had walked before getting sprayed?” Madeline reenacted her departure once again, slowly, as she let the memory guide her.

“Yes, it was right as I rounded this bed, before I passed this other room. I remember because I kind of skittered out of the way and landed in the mud on this side…” They both bent and examined the site. Even after a week and regular waterings, it was still possible to see a distinct print of Madeline’s toes and the ball of her foot. Burt handed the map to her and took out a small camera, making a record of their findings.

“It’s a good piece of evidence, but it doesn’t do anything to link Steven to the setup. But it does give us a specific room number to work with, which helps immensely. With any luck, we’ll get a name to go with the room and date.”

“That’s incredible,” Madeline said. She was tingling with excitement and almost giddy with relief.

“You’d make a pretty good P.I.” Burt kidded her. “You’ve got a good eye for detail.” Madeline laughed.

“I guess that comes from years of planning big events,” she said.

“Don’t knock it. All sorts of people make good investigators. It’s how you apply your own special knowledge of life that matters.” Madeline took this as a compliment.

“So, now what do we do?”

“I’m going back to chat with the front desk. You can go do whatever you want—have brunch, go shopping, or just enjoy the gorgeous day.”

“What I want to do and need to do are two different things. But the first thing I
have
to do is find a place to live, before my money runs out.”

Madeline had just rounded the front of the Benz when she heard someone call out her name. Her instinct was to pretend she hadn’t heard it and get away from there as soon as possible. But unlocking a car door the old-fashioned way without benefit of remote keyless entry slowed her progress. She kept her head down as the female voice beckoned her again. She had half-convinced herself the unfamiliar car would give her pursuer doubts. She was almost in the driver’s seat when Lauren appeared on her beach cruiser.

“Hey, I thought that was you!” Lauren sang out happily, oblivious to Madeline’s less than welcoming body language.

“Oh, hi there!” Madeline said, managing a fairly convincing look of surprise.

“I wasn’t sure it was you,” Lauren said, all smiles. “I didn’t recognize the car and you didn’t seem to hear me.”

“Sorry, I’m a little distracted right now.”

“I bet! The whole time I was in Cabo I kept thinking how much you must’ve regretted letting me off for a week.”

“Looks like you had a good time…”

“It was
amazing!
But I’m back and ready to get to work.” Madeline’s smile froze on her face. She had to tell her assistant the sad reality sometime. Might as well be now.

“Umm…feel like a coffee?”

“Sure.”

“How about The Coffee Bean?”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Lauren said, guiding her bicycle back into the street. “Cool car—is it new?”

“No, it belongs to a friend of mine.”

“Oh, nice,” Lauren replied, not knowing what to make of that answer. The Ridleys had plenty of cars at their disposal. But her curiosity died quickly and was replaced by her old eager-to-please, competent self. “Do you want me to order you a latte, if I beat you there?” she challenged her employer.

“That’d be great. But don’t be so sure you’ll get there before me.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t have to park,” Lauren cried out as she set the clunky bike into motion.

A sinking feeling came over Madeline as she conceded this point with a tentative smile. She had two minutes to figure out how to spin her story and how much to disclose. And figure out how to fire a perfectly good assistant without actually firing her.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Lauren took the news of the Ridley breakup harder than Madeline had expected. To look at her, one would assume she’d just learned that her own parents were getting divorced. She was tearing up, and Madeline regretted telling her the bad news in such a public place. She took a tissue out of her tote and handed it to her. Lauren snuffled into it for a moment before letting loose.

“Lauren, honey, please don’t cry,” Madeline said under her breath. “It’s going to be alright,” she lied. She had expected maybe a quivering bottom lip when she told her that she couldn’t employ her anymore. Now Madeline wasn’t sure she could bring herself to tell her. But she had to; one month’s severance pay was more than she felt comfortable spending at this point as it was.

“The worst part of all this is that I’m not going to be able to keep you on as my assistant.” The words hung over the table as Lauren’s force field rejected the notion. “I can pay you for one more month, but you really should spend that time lining up a new job.” This point hit home, eliciting another jagged sob from Lauren. Madeline gave her a weary smile as she held her hand, conveying the full scope of her own loss. Lauren sniffed and grasped her hand tightly.

“If there’s anything I can do…” Lauren offered. Though she had no right to feel sorry for herself, given what her employer was going through, she couldn’t help but see this as a complete upheaval of her once promising life. Even though Madeline was facing a divorce, she was going to be a rich divorcée, which was a lot better than being an unemployed poor person.

“If Steven wasn’t trying to cut me off without a cent, I’d keep you on. I’m going to find it very difficult to function without you,” Madeline confessed, earning a moody chirp from Lauren. “But I will put the word out, and I’m sure you’ll be snatched up right away. I know several people who’ve coveted you for themselves. Now’s their chance. I’ll make a few calls and you’ll probably have a bidding war going in no time.”

Her words worked liked a bouquet of hundred-dollar bills. Lauren tried to remain somber, for Madeline’s sake, but it was obviously sinking in that she had just earned $2,500 for doing nothing and would be able to hold out for an even better salary.

“Especially after the success of the ball…” Madeline added. Though she had been trying to put a good spin on the situation, thinking of that fateful night made her own spirits plummet.

“The ball was awesome!” Lauren gushed. “You were amazing. You looked so beautiful and you held it together perfectly after Steven stormed out on you.” Madeline looked up from her empty latte cup.

“What did you see? What do you remember of that night?” she asked, startling Lauren with her urgency.

“Uh…I…well, you did a
great
job with the auction—”

“But what about before that…after Steven left…how did I seem to you?”

“Uh, fine…I mean, I could tell at first you were upset, but once you started dancing again—”

“You saw me dancing?”

“Yeah…”

“Who was I dancing with?” Madeline’s grilling her put her on edge. “Lauren, do you remember me dancing with a guy with dark, slicked-back hair? He was about my height with my heels on…” Madeline looked as though she were trying to bore a hole through Lauren’s vapid expression.

“Yeah, yeah…I remember the guy…”

“What do we know about him? Was he on the guest list or was he a guest of someone else? Do you know where he was sitting?” Lauren shook her head, a vacant look on her face.

“I don’t know who he was…I just figured it was someone you knew. I mean, you were dancing with him a lot…” Madeline couldn’t hide her exasperation. She ran her hands through her hair as she took a deep breath. “Is there something wrong?” Lauren asked anxiously. An odd, quizzical look came over her features. Madeline could almost see the gears turning.

“It’s nothing like that,” she said, rushing to erase the notion she had a personal interest in the man. “He was acting strangely when I was dancing with him, and I heard some other women saying the same thing. You know how it is at these big, high-dollar events—you sometimes get crashers looking for easy pickings.”

“Oh…I see. You think he might have been a pick-pocket or a jewel thief…?” Madeline shrugged equivocally. “Oh, I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay. I just wondered if you happened to know how he got in, just in case we had reports of anything missing.”

“Right…”

“So, anyway…that’s the sad story about our breakup,” Madeline said, eager to finish their conversation. “And I hope you know how sad I am to have to let you go.”

“I know. You’re the best boss anyone could ever hope for,” Lauren said, laying it on thick.

“Well, I don’t know about that, but thanks. I’ll put the word out that you’re available.”

“Thank you.” They smiled forlornly at each other.

“I better get going,” Madeline said as she stood up. Without warning, Lauren threw her arms around her.

“Keep in touch, and good luck!” Lauren said, waving goodbye as she bounded out of the café.

Madeline was walking back to the car when Burt appeared beside her, making her jump.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked. There had been no parking on Coast Village Road and she had to park behind one of the business complexes, hidden from the street.

“GPS. It’s in the phone I gave you. I like being able to keep tabs on my clients. I never know when one might go missing.” This ominous admission startled her. “You’ve probably had your fill of caffeine,” Burt surmised. “Let’s find somewhere less public where we can talk.”

They met back at the Douglas Preserve. Madeline found Burt sitting on a bench just off the trail. She sat down beside him and took in the view while she waited for him to speak.

“Your discovery was a good one,” he said.

“What did you find out?” Burt looked at her askance. He could tell the suspense was getting to her.

“The room you were taken to was not registered to any hotel guests that night. And neither were the three others facing it.” Madeline was dumbstruck. “One of the four had guests who checked out Saturday morning. Another had guests checking in on Sunday. And that was all the activity in that group.

“How could that be? I’m positive that was the place. We looked everywhere else…” Burt shifted his body so that he was facing her, left arm propped up on the back of the bench in a pose of nonchalance.

“My guess is the perpetrators had inside help. It wouldn’t be impossible for them to break in, but they had to have known which rooms were going to be vacant that night.” Madeline felt her body sag, as if something essential to her being had just evaporated. “I think it’s time you took this to the police.”

The look on Madeline’s face made him quickly amend his opinion. “I’ll keep working on this, but we’re going to need access to surveillance videos and employee time cards and background checks and other things that the hotel is not going to grant a P.I. I’ll share with them everything I’ve uncovered pertinent to the assault, and I’ll work with them any way I can. But I also have hunches I want to pursue outside of their purview, at least for now.” Madeline was shaking her head as he spoke.

“I can’t go to the police. I can’t give them those photos. They’ll go to Steven and he’ll tell them a load of B.S. He is
so
convincing—Mr. Upstanding Citizen, friend to all the big wigs in town. No one will take my word over his.” Burt held up his hands to stop Madeline’s justifiably paranoid ramble.

“You can’t jump to conclusions. At this point, there’s no reason not to get the police involved. The longer you wait, the harder it’ll be to find evidence. Security tapes are often erased or taped over after a certain period of time.” Burt faced forward, looking down at the ground as he chose his words. “I think focusing on catching your husband has been a way to avoid dealing with the reality of what happened that night.” Madeline made no move, but Burt could feel the tension emanating from her body.

“You need the law to find out who did this to you, and you need to get counseling. I don’t mean this to sound harsh, but look how your husband has kept you off balance since that night. He hasn’t given you a single day without dropping a bomb on you. You’ve been so busy reacting to his systematic destruction of your life, you haven’t had a moment to grieve or take care of yourself.”

A tear trickled down Madeline’s cheek. She wiped it away before daring to look Burt in the eye. She knew if she opened her mouth, she’d lose it. Burt sat back, giving her time and space to absorb what he’d said.

“Will you come with me?” she asked. Burt nodded. Madeline let out a deep sigh. It surprised her that now the unthinkable had been faced, she actually felt calmer inside. Burt was right; she had been allowing Steven to whip her in private, convincing her she would be worse off if she didn’t suffer in silence. The more she thought it over, the more it made sense to hand the burden to the police.

Maybe nothing would come of their investigation; maybe Steven would flood the internet with the horrid photos. She couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t do that anyway. If he did, his precious reputation might suffer too as a result. Either way, she couldn’t control what he did with them, so it was better to strike where she had the best chance of exposing his role in her molestation.

“Do you think they’ll believe me?” Madeline asked, a new tide of trepidation washing over her.

“I think they’ll treat it as a legitimate complaint.” Madeline snorted at Burt’s delicate phrasing. “You’ve got the photos, your version of the events—the blackout and waking alone in the room—and we’ve got photos of your footprint in the flower bed and the sprinkler spray, which corroborates your story. It’s not a lot, but victims of rape often have less to go on than that.”

“Should I tell them I think Steven is behind it?”

“No. They’ll interview Steven about receiving the photos, but let’s keep our theories to ourselves for the time being. It’ll be much better for them to come to their own conclusions about him rather than us trying to lead them that direction.”

“Should I tell them Steven has filed for divorce?” Burt thought this over.

“That’s better coming from you than Steven. They might figure you’ve concocted this story to save your marriage if they found out through him.”

“Then they might think that anyway,” Madeline said, getting to her feet. She stood staring out at the ocean as she moved the chess pieces around in her head.

“When should we do it?” she asked at length.

“Tomorrow. There’s no reason to wait any longer. But take some time to think it all over. The more confident you are with the facts as you know them, the more convincing you’ll be.”

“What are the ‘hunches’ you want to pursue?” she asked, sitting back down beside him. Burt leaned back against the bench.

“I still feel money is the motivation behind Steven’s actions. If progeny were all he was after, he could’ve taken a mistress here in town, waited until she got pregnant, and then pulled this number on you. But as soon as this plan was in place, he went hunting big game. There’s no shortage of beautiful young women in this town, and I don’t think it’s any coincidence he’s gone to court a wealthy divorcée. I think he’s in deep financial trouble. I started looking into a certain area of his business dealings that have been goldmines for crooks in the past.”

“What area would that be?”

“Real estate loans.” Madeline mulled this over.

“I’d love for you to find some major dirt on Steven, but all his business dealings are in group partnerships. I don’t see how he could slip anything past his investors.”

“This type of thing has been done before, and with much larger firms than your husband’s. It has to do with loan payoffs and reconveying the deed, or more to the point,
not
reconveying the deed.”

“You lost me,” Madeline said.

“There was a pretty famous case years ago that had to do with a title company, whose owner—unbeknownst to his employees—was handling loan payoffs through escrow, but not recording those final payments. The people who thought they now owned their properties free and clear, found out some time down the road that the money was never given to the lien holders.”

“Seriously?”

“Twenty years in prison seriously.”

“But how was that possible?”

“The guy was very bright, but also a little naïve to think someone wouldn’t catch on sooner or later. All it takes in a scam like that is for one borrower to start a new refinance, then bingo, they find their property is as encumbered as it was before the payoff and all their money is gone.” Madeline scratched her head.

“I just don’t see how something like that would be possible in Steven’s partnership. There are too many people involved. Surely someone would notice…” Burt shook his head.

“Not necessarily. And again, this is just speculation on my part. But my instincts tell me Steven Ridley has to put on a pretty good show in order to attract new investors. The money’s got to look like it’s raining from heaven. Chances are he started postponing the actual repayment of certain loans by a week or two in order to make his balance sheet look more impressive. Once he figured out this delay went unnoticed, he got bolder. Next thing he knows, he’s habitually treating other people’s money like it’s his own. Before long, he’s got a lot of empty cupboards to replenish, and maybe he didn’t hook as many big investors as he needed to, or maybe he simply got greedy.”

“That sounds like a Ponzi scheme,” Madeline said.

“Yeah, just like one.” Madeline sat back against the bench, utterly flummoxed. She found it difficult to believe Steven could be that corrupt—squeaky clean, ultra-conservative Steven. But she quickly reminded herself of all the plotting that had gone into her frame-up. No doubt, there was a side to her spouse she had been completely blind to.

“So, when he comes up short, he has to get money from somewhere…” she said. Burt smiled, nodding his head.

“My guess is you are unaware that Steven had been trying to pull money out of your real estate holdings.”

“What do you mean, like a loan?”

“Yep.”

“How do you know that?”