Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 01 - Spouse Trap (16 page)

“I saw several inquiries by banks on your credit report, all within the last five months.”

“Steven never mentioned that to me.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Okay, it sounds like you’ve got a reason for suspecting him of stealing. But how do you go about proving it?”

“First I searched for trust deeds held by Steven’s company. I was surprised how many came up. Now I have to sift through them to find out if any of these borrowers are under the false impression that their payoffs have been recorded.”

“How will you do that?”

“Pretexting. I’ll pose as a rep from a lending institution offering to lower the rate on their mortgage with RAM L.P. I’ll call each one of these property owners until I find any who’ve been duped.”

“And if you’re right…?”

“If I hit pay dirt, then Steven’s screwed.” A happy wheeze escaped Madeline as she saw how close they were to turning Steven’s plot upside down.

“I don’t want you to get too excited yet. It may take me a few days to find what I’m looking for, if I’m not totally off-base. And even if I’m right, there’s a significant downside where you’re concerned.”

“What, you mean I’ll have a jailbird for an ex-husband?” Madeline joked.

“I mean it might be a rather hollow victory for you, if you’ve been counting on breaking your prenup and cashing in on half of the Ridley assets.” Madeline’s expression became suitably sober. “If Steven goes to prison for misappropriating funds that he had a fiduciary responsibility to safeguard, your joint estate will be sued left, right and center. And any ill-gotten gains will probably be confiscated.”

“Oh,” Madeline sighed. “I win, but I also lose.” Burt nodded. “Well, isn’t that just the way my luck is running these days—I can’t seem to win for losing.” They were silent for a moment, both running alternate scenarios in their heads.

“If there was a way to get Steven for the rape, we could keep the embezzlement for later, after the prenup was voided. But so far we can’t find a way to connect Steven to the photos or the man from the ball, who is starting to seem like a ghost, so there are no grounds for voiding the prenup,” Madeline concluded glumly.

“There might be another way around the prenup.”

“Which is what?”

“If I can find proof of Steven’s larceny, that could be used as leverage against him,” Burt said. He usually wasn’t one for Machiavellian scheming on his clients’ behalf, but this case was not his standard fare. He hated unfair fights and Steven Ridley was wiping the floor with an innocent woman, his own faithful wife of twelve years. Any man capable of his misdeeds deserved everything he had coming to him, with interest. And as long as Mrs. Ridley was his employer, he was going to make sure this misogynist didn’t skate free.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Madeline was so preoccupied by the time she returned to the hotel, she couldn’t have said with certainty what streets she had taken to get there. She was fumbling around in her tote for the room key when Steven’s voice made her jump.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, hand to her heart.

“Nice car,” Steven said. The tone of his voice made her wish she had something very heavy to hit him with. Her instinct to bolt for safety kicked in a second too late; Steven blocked her as she tried to slip past him. He grabbed her by the arm as she pivoted away from him.

“Let go of me,” she said defiantly, keeping her voice steady and loud enough to be heard if anyone was in the vicinity. Steven held his hands up as he took a step back. “What are you doing here?” she repeated.

“We need to talk,” Steven said.

“Anything you want to say to me will have to go through our attorneys.”

“Madeline, I’ve had time to think things over.” Madeline’s heart stopped, then started pounding, making her feel faint. “I have a proposal for you, one I think you’ll be quite open to.” She let out an exasperated huff. For one crazy second she thought he was talking of reconciliation. She backed away, into the line of sight of the front desk.

“Look, twelve years is a long time. I don’t want to you to walk away penniless, despite what happened.” Madeline stared at him, trying to deduce what his real motivation was.

“Have your attorney tell it to my attorney,” she said, standing defiantly with her arms wrapped closely around herself.

“Can we go somewhere, talk about this like adults?”

“No.” Her heart skipped a beat when she remembered Burt saying he had “secured” the hotel. It comforted her some to imagine him watching this scene from his monitor. Maybe he was on his way over already. She fixed Steven with her stare, letting him know any talking he wanted to do would have to take place in the motor court.

“Would you like me to park your car, Mrs. Ridley?”

“Could you keep it out for a moment? I might be leaving again soon.”

“Sure no problem,” the valet said, backing away cautiously. It was clear to him a confrontation was taking place. He positioned himself where he couldn’t overhear their conversation, but could keep a discreet watch on them.

“Can we at least get in the car?” Steven asked, his rancor seeping through his mask of deference.

“No. Anything you want to say to me, you’re going to have to say right here. And you better make it fast.” Steven licked his lip as he surveyed their surroundings. If he figured out there was a security camera fixed on them, he didn’t let on.

“Alright, we’ll do it your way,” he said. Madeline almost laughed at his feigned magnanimity. “I believe I was rash in throwing you out of your home. I could’ve handled the situation better, but I was so devastated by your infidelity.” Madeline’s features hardened as she weighed the benefits of listening to this utter bullshit. “Just let me finish,” Steven said, sensing her urge to flee.

“Get to the point,” she said, running out of patience.

“I’m willing to offer you a cash settlement, even though our prenup frees me from that obligation.”

“That’s really big of you Steven, especially after you cut off my use of our credit cards and froze our bank accounts.” A smirk threatened to undermine Steven’s sincerity. Madeline continued to glare at him, warning him to speak up or take a hike.

“Here’s the deal,” Steven said, removing an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. “I have a cashier’s check made out to you for $250,000.” Madeline couldn’t hide her shock. “In exchange, you’ll agree to a quick divorce.”

“No sale,” she said. She tried to get past him, but he grabbed her by the arm again.

“Get your Goddamn hands off me!” The valet looked up from his book. His posture was rigid, as if he were ready to intervene in a moment’s notice.

“Sorry, sorry…” Steven said, his hands raised in the air to show the valet he meant no harm. “Look, Madeline, I’m trying to be fair here.”

“Oh, please—give me a break! You think you can bully and bribe me and I’m going to jump when you say jump? No, that’s over, Steven. The prenup will be broken and I will be getting quite a bit more than 250 grand. Now if you’ll just get out of my way.” Steven moved to block her but was smart enough to keep his hands to himself.

“I know you’re going to find this hard to believe, but I’m actually doing you a favor.” Madeline didn’t even try to hide her incredulousness. “Right now, you’ve got a limited amount of money that will last only a few months, even if you get the Porsche sold. A long, contested divorce will only diminish both our resources. If we can agree to a settlement that is fair, then you can be completely finished with me in ninety days. Think about it—you can start a new life and not suffer the embarrassment and financial hardship of a protracted, public divorce.”

“You mean, you can have me out of your life faster without giving me what I deserve. I’m not listening to this anymore. If you have any
real
settlement offers, have your attorney talk to my attorney. Now, get out of my way. And stay away from me.”

Though she was proud of the way she stood up to Steven, her hands were shaking so badly by the time she got to her room, she could barely get the key card in the slot. Burt’s phone rang as she was bolting the door.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I suppose so. I wasn’t expecting him to show up here. It was all I could do to keep from beating him with my fists. I guess I’m not as well hidden as I thought.”

“The hotel name probably showed up when you used your credit card. He reported the card stolen right after the hotel tried to process the charge. We weren’t going for complete secrecy, just a place I could monitor. If you want to be moved, I can arrange a more private location.”

“No, that’s alright. He already knows where I am. I guess that’s why no one bothered to follow me here. Where are you now?”

“I’m going back to my place. I headed over to the hotel as soon as I got an alert from the front desk.” Madeline took a little comfort in knowing she had backup. “So, what did he want?”

“He was trying to buy me off with $250,000, provided I give him a quickie divorce. I told him to forget it.”

“Interesting. Especially considering all the trouble he went through to make sure a divorce didn’t cost him anything.”

“I know. Maybe hiring my own attorney prompted the offer.”

“That, or he’s trying to clear the decks for the new Mrs. Ridley. Either way, I think we can assume by the offer that he’s getting nervous. Okay, I better get back to work. Call me if anything comes up. What time do you want to go to the police station tomorrow?”

“Oh, I don’t know…around ten?”

“Fine. I’ll call and set something up. If you have a change of heart, let me know.”

“No, I think I need to do it and get it behind me.”

“Good. We’ll talk in the morning. Get some rest.”

Madeline laid Burt’s phone next to hers on the coffee table. She knew she had to start looking in earnest for a place to live, but inertia had set in, making it hard for her to care about anything.

TWENTY-NINE

Madeline scoured the internet for suitable housing until midnight. She sent out a few emails to landlords and management companies, but she was less than enthusiastic about anything she’d seen. As the night wore on, she started imagining what her prospects would be like if she had a quarter of a million dollars at her disposal. That line of thinking spawned the idea of relocating someplace with more affordable real estate. But as nice as it was to imagine having the security of owning her own home, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Santa Barbara.

Though she only slept for six hours, she awoke with some of her former vigor. She had things to take care of and nothing motivated her more than having tasks to check off a list.

She had just gotten out of the shower when her cell phone rang. The call was coming from her attorney. It was only 7:45.

“Hope I’m not calling too early,” Barry Houstein said. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, not at all. I take it you got my rather hysterical message.”

“Yes, I did. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get back to you sooner.”

“I understand.”

“Listen, I just got off the phone with Richard Laird of Pillman, Guillaume & Laird. Says he’s representing your husband in your divorce. I guess they’ve had a little reality check and decided to offer you a settlement, with caveats—500,000 and a seven-day stay in Guam.”

“That’s very interesting. It was only 250,000 yesterday.”

“So, you already know about this? When we met on Friday, I got the impression he was trying to cut you off without a cent. Half a mil is not what we’d be looking for if we had proof he framed you. But the nice thing is if you were in the mood to make a quick settlement, you could still go after him on assault charges, etcetera, later.”

Madeline thought this over. If Burt’s hunches were right, then Steven would be in serious legal trouble. This new overture was more evidence that he needed her out of the way in a hurry in order to replenish the coffers. She would be helping him avoid prison if she took the deal, allowing him to clear the field and usher in Mrs. Moneybags. The whole notion turned her stomach, but what choice did she have?

“Why the trip to Guam?” she asked belatedly.

“A seven-day stay to establish residency. Guam divorce is the new Haitian divorce—it’s legal in all fifty states, which the Haitian divorce isn’t anymore. It takes up to ninety days to be final, but only one party has to make the trip there, as long as both parties agree to the terms. What do you think? Should we go long, hold out for your fair share, or do you share your husband’s desire to put this behind you?”

“Hmm…I don’t know. What do you think?”

“Breaking the prenup requires proof of coercion, duress, fraud, or bad intent. How confident are you that you can get that proof?” Barry asked.

“At this stage, we haven’t got anything. He seems to have wiped his prints away. My investigator has run into a dead end, which is why he wants me to go to the police today. He says important evidence could be erased if I don’t get them involved.” Now Barry’s side of the line became quiet.

“Does your husband know you’re turning this over to the authorities?”

“No. As far as he’s concerned, I still think I got drunk and slept with some stranger who just happened to be photographing the whole thing.”

“So, if you hold out for the big payoff and reject this settlement, you could end up with no proof that you were set up. No disrespect to you or Santa Barbara’s finest, but your story is not exactly kosher, if you know what I mean. You can go in there, spill your guts and then when they find out you’re embroiled in a nasty divorce, they start thinking they’re pissing up a rope to help one disgruntled spouse gut the other. You see what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I’m not saying they won’t find you or your version of events credible, but finding evidence that implicates him might be a long shot. On the other hand, if you take your husband’s offer, there’s nothing in the agreement that says you must hold him harmless in your attack. So far, anyway. And really they couldn’t put something like that in writing without tipping his hand. But as I was saying, you get the money, collect as much proof as you can while the divorce is pending,
then
you go to the cops. At least that way you’ve got some walking around money. Make sense?”

“Yes, it does. Especially since my private investigator has reason to believe Steven’s been commingling investor funds with his own to the detriment of both the investors and the borrowers.”

“TAKE THE OFFER!” Barry said. The forceful way he said this made Madeline laugh.

“Can you send the agreement to me so I can read the exact terms?”

“Coming your way right now. But let me just go over the fine points of it while I’ve got you on the line. Okay, you’ll be paid $250,000 before you board the plane and the other $250,000 once the divorce is final, which is essentially ninety days later.”

“Do I have a say in this?”

“Absolutely! At this moment, you’re in the driver’s seat. How do you want me to respond?”

“I want the $500,000 upfront.”

“Understandable. Anything else?”

“I want my diamond and emerald necklace and earrings returned before I leave for
Guam
,” she said, the name sticking to her tongue as she tried to expel it. Never did she imagine she’d be traveling to that remote island, and certainly not for a quickie divorce.

“Okay, anything else?” Madeline thought about this. She was very tempted to demand the beach house, but thought better of it. He’d never agree to that. If she got greedy, she might blow the whole thing. And from the cards she was now holding, this was probably going to be the best deal she could ever get out of her ruined marriage.

“No, that’s it. No, wait—what about your fees?”

“You want me to include those, too?”

“Yes.”

“You got it. Stay by the phone, in case I need you. This might not take too long.”

“I think that was a wise move,” Burt said. Madeline called him as soon as she hung up with the attorney. “It takes you out of the hot seat, puts some cash in your pocket, and gives me time to continue my investigation. If you’re sure you’re okay not going after him for the rape—for the time being, anyway—then I think you’ve set yourself up pretty well. At least you shouldn’t have any more bombs dropped on you.”

“That would be a refreshing change,” Madeline agreed. “But I’ve still got the photos to worry about. He could send them out to everyone I know.” Burt was silent for a moment.

“The only hope you’ve got is that doing so might have a negative impact on him. He claims he’s fearful of his reputation being hurt if they got out. Plus, if everyone’s snickering behind their hands, how’s that going to affect the woman he’s courting?”

“I guess I’ve got that in my favor.”

“The photos were taken to cheat you out of your fair share of the community property. They’re what made you so amenable to settling for half a million.”

“Do you think I should’ve held out for more?”

“That’s your call. As for my personal opinion, for what it’s worth, I doubt you’d get any more than that, not if he’s short on funds. For all we know, he might’ve borrowed that from Mrs. Collins-Wainwright, or from an unsuspecting borrower.” Madeline let out a disdainful wheeze.

“You’re probably right,” she admitted.

“I’ll call Detective Slovitch and tell him we need to postpone our appointment.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Now that’s off the calendar, what’s on your agenda today?”

“I was going to look for a place to live. But I can do that while I’m sitting on my hands in Guam. I guess I’ll wait for my attorney to tell me what my next move’s going to be, and figure out what to do from there. I suppose I should find out where the heck Guam is and what to wear this time of year.” Burt laughed, a pleasant sound she didn’t remember hearing before.

“Call me when you hear back from your attorney. I’ll be heading over to the courthouse soon, but you can reach me on my cell.”

Madeline set Burt’s phone down. The physical sense of pressure she’d felt for over a week had lifted. She could actually breathe freely again. After the whirlwind of being tarred and feathered, the prospect of walking away from a deceitful marriage with half a million dollars made her feel like a net winner.