Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 01 - Spouse Trap (6 page)

ELEVEN

As Madeline pulled into the breezeway of the Montecito Inn, she caught sight of friends sitting at a table by the window.
Oh damn,
she thought, tempted to keep going. But Jane had spotted her and she had no choice but to relinquish her car to the valet.

When she walked into the Montecito Café, Jane had already annexed another chair from a neighboring table to make a place for her. Madeline covered her disappointment with a bright smile and joined the party already in high-squawk mode.

“Hello, stranger,” Jane greeted her, giving her a quick hug. “We’ve only just ordered—your timing is perfect.” The waitress appeared wearing an expression of anticipation.

“Can I get you something to drink, Mrs. Ridley? A glass of Brander Sauvignon Blanc?”

“Thanks, Barbara, that’d be great. And I’ll have the trout salad,” Madeline replied as she circled the table and bussed all the proffered cheeks of her girlfriends.

“Hey, thanks for canceling on me yesterday,” Jane snarked. “I was forced to play Amanda and she kicked my ass in straight sets.” Everyone laughed except Jane.

“Is that the only reason I’m roped into our weekly games, because you hate to lose?” Madeline quipped.

“Hardly,” Jane said, eyeing her with playful antagonism. “I’ve let you win a few times.” Madeline laughed.

“You mean,
I’ve
let you beat
me
a few times.” All the women laughed at this, including Jane, but only because she could never stay mad at her closest friend for long.

“So, where have you been hiding out?” Alexa asked as liquid reinforcements arrived. Madeline evaded the question by lifting her glass to the others.

“Cheers!” they all responded, with glasses held high.

“Hey, congratulations on the ball. It was fabulous,” Natalie said. The others echoed this sentiment.

“Thanks. I appreciate all your support.” While the replies of her four friends collided in an undecipherable cacophony, Madeline felt the desperation of not being able to remember a single moment of the auction. She drank a hearty sip of her wine and instantly regretted it as it hit her empty stomach. She snagged a piece of bread from the basket and devoured it as the conversation galloped along.

“I’m still pissed that Larry let Roger Dickens beat him out of the Venetian holiday,” Natalie said.

“Oh, I bet! Matt wouldn’t even let me raise my paddle on that one,” Jane groused.

“Yeah, but you got him to spring for the Post Ranch—that was pretty sporting of him,” Alexa said.

“I know, where did that charitable urge come from?” Natalie asked.

“I don’t know, but whatever made him do it wore off by the time we drove home,” Jane replied.

“Buyer’s remorse?” Amanda joked. Jane nodded.

“All he kept saying was ‘$8,000 for one weekend!’” Everyone laughed. Even Madeline, who was attaching two fragments of knowledge to the void in her memory of that night, gave a good impersonation of someone having fun at her friend’s expense.

“I think he was so gaga over the way Maddie looked, he just kept raising his paddle to get her to smile at him again.”

“Well, it worked,” Madeline said, grateful that she could contribute something to the conversation, though it was purely ad lib.

“How’s Steven?” Alexa asked after the laughter died down. The question caused a coughing fit, as Madeline literally choked on it.

“Give her some water,” Natalie suggested as Madeline grew red in the face. Jane pounded her on the back.

“I’m fine,” Madeline croaked, waving away all the well-intentioned interference.

“You’re not getting what Steven had, I hope,” Alexa said, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Steven had food poisoning—that’s what he told John,” Amanda added for the record. This got Madeline’s attention: John was one of Steven’s partners. Seemed like Steven had a different set of lies for everyone. She wondered how he could keep them all straight.

“Hope it wasn’t from something he ate at the benefit,” Jane said. It took Madeline a few seconds to realize everyone was looking to her for the answer.

“Oh, no—he was fine in the morning. I think it must’ve been something he had at lunch.” Their entrees arrived, effectively taking Madeline out of the hot seat for the moment. The chatter died down as they took their first bites, only to rev back up as other gossip of the latest social event demanded to be aired.

“I thought I would
die
when Monica Strand walked in with that rent-a-stud,” Natalie pronounced gleefully. Madeline racked her brain: had she seen this guy with Monica? Was he her mystery man?

“I think I missed that,” she said innocently.

“You’ve got to be kidding? The super-tan blonde with the killer bod? He would’ve had to gone into Chippendale-mode to have been any more noticeable,” Jane mocked. Madeline felt relieved and disappointed at the same time.

“I was so focused, I really didn’t even notice half the people there,” she said, hoping her friends would offer further enlightenment. She hated to come out and ask if anyone knew who she danced with, but she had to find out somehow.

“There were a lot of people I’ve never seen before,” Alexa admitted, though by her tone, it didn’t sound as though she approved of them all.

“It was a big turnout. I think our patrons brought a lot of guests,” Madeline offered.

“It’s a good time of the year to have a fundraiser—after the holidays and before tax season,” Natalie reasoned. Madeline took a long sip of wine while she thought of ways to steer the conversation back to the guests.

“Who was that tall, dark, handsome guy you kept dancing with?” Amanda’s question nearly got Madeline choking again.

“Yeah, talk about a stud muffin!” Natalie’s remark had everyone cackling like hens.

“I honestly don’t know,” Madeline admitted. Everyone tittered except Jane.

“Oh, come on! You danced half the night with him,” she challenged.

“No I didn’t,” Madeline protested.

“Uh huh, yes you did,” Alexa said. Madeline was aghast. She felt as if all the once friendly faces around her had suddenly grown sinister.

“I danced with several men after Steven went home,” she insisted. “I don’t even know what that guy’s name was.”

“At least she remembered who we’re talking about,” Amanda mock-whispered to Natalie.

“Well, do any of you know who he was?” Madeline asked defensively. Her tone seemed to take the sting out of their mocking. They all shook their heads in unison.

“But then again, we weren’t dancing with him half the night,” Alexa said, raising a few naughty snickers.

“All I can say is the evening must’ve been a bore if you all didn’t have anything better to do than keep track of my dance partners.” The rebuke hung in the air as Madeline gazed at the four faces seated around her.

“The evening was a blast. Don’t get your knickers in a knot,” Jane admonished her. “I think somebody’s been working too hard lately,” she added, regarding her friend out of the corner of her eye.

“Now that the ball’s behind you, we should go out and just let our hair down,” Alexa suggested, squashing the note of animosity that had crept into the conversation.

“That’s a good idea,” Jane seconded, looking at her friend in a conciliatory manner.

“Yeah, that would be fun,” Madeline agreed. But there was no way she was going to waste her limited time with this gang. If they couldn’t tell her who her rapist was, she was going to have to look elsewhere.

TWELVE

Madeline waved goodbye to her friends as she pulled out of the parking garage. She headed toward home out of reflex, but her stomach knotted at the thought of wandering her house like an unwelcome guest who was about to be shown the door. Yet, she couldn’t wear the same outfit indefinitely. She felt somewhat better when she remembered she did have the beach house to hole up in; at least she wouldn’t have uncomfortable encounters with the staff there.

With a temporary escape plan forming in her head, the pluses of a change of venue started piling up. She could take a run on the beach and clear her head, maybe make sense of what was happening to her life.
Ha,
she thought bitterly,
that would be too tall an order for one day.

As soon as she pulled up, Hughes appeared to ask if she needed any assistance. She thanked him, told him no, and told him she was going out again. While she was thinking of it, she went in search of Erma and told her she’d be having dinner out with friends. As she walked to her bedroom, she debated whether she should tell her she’d probably stay at the beach house that night. She retraced her steps to the foyer, then changed her mind. Any knowledge of her comings and goings would surely be passed on to Steven.

This thought stopped her in her tracks. She hadn’t given her shadow a thought after lunch. Was she followed? Wasn’t she supposed to report back to Burt Latham if she lost sight of Russell Barnett? This worry sent her into high gear. She stripped and pulled on running clothes, then packed a carry-on bag with assorted wardrobe essentials, plus her toiletries bag, her laptop and chargers. She was out the door and down the driveway without any more contact with Erma and Hughes.

Madeline reached Loon Point and looked back toward Miramar Beach. She had run without stopping, her mind churning as fast as the sand beneath her feet. She panted as she rested, hands on her knees, bent over until she caught her breath. She had run hard, her muscles pumping like pistons, in hopes of outrunning her nightmare. As her chest heaved and heart thumped, she had to admit she was no closer to understanding what the hell had happened to her perfect life.

She headed back in the direction she had come. She could see well beyond Miramar Beach to the harbor and the Mesa. She pushed her aching muscles and tried to get back into the rhythm that had brought her to Summerland so swiftly. But after thirty seconds, she became too dispirited by the coastal beauty, a sight that normally filled her with joy.

It’s no use,
she thought as she walked, hands on hips, head down, ostensibly studying the tracks left by shore birds. As she confronted the here and now, she began to cry, much to her embarrassment. There was no one around to witness her shame, but crying with abandon wasn’t going to help matters. She had to focus her mind and figure out what she was going to do.

Just the thought of having to sift through the rubble of her failed marriage made her cry all the harder. She gave up and sat on a rock, letting it all out.

After sobbing like she’d hadn’t done since her mother died, she felt surprisingly lighter inside. She dabbed at her wet face, using the backs of her hands as squeegees, and got to her feet. She fell into a comfortable jog as she sniffled her way past Summerland. When she rounded Shark’s Cove at Fernald Point, her mind was as steady as her breathing.

Now that she could think clearly, she reviewed her list of known facts:

I was drugged and raped

I have the photos to prove it

Someone set me up

Steven wants a divorce

Steven hired a private detective.

As this last known fact registered, Madeline saw it in a completely different light than before. She ground to a halt as she seized on it and turned it around in her mind. Steven
did
hire a detective after slamming her with the photos, but
maybe
it was because he had his own doubts about them. Maybe Steven hired Barnett to keep tabs on her to see if she had contact with her supposed lover while he was out of town. Or maybe Steven was secretly trying to vindicate her…

Madeline stood there drinking in this fragile hope. It filled her to the point that she twittered with happiness. She started to run, her optimism spurring her on. Maybe Steven was secretly trying to prove her innocence. Twelve years of marriage was hard for anyone to just throw away on circumstantial evidence. Well, it was pretty damning evidence, circumstantial or not. But it was
possible
that Barnett had been hired to clear her. Maybe Steven was having the P.I. search for whoever was responsible for the disgusting photographs…

Madeline climbed the steps to the beach house, her mind now completely focused on building this hopeful theory into a plausible truth. She ran every element of the last five days through her mind while she showered and washed her hair. She had maintained her innocence from the beginning and had never wavered. That was definitely a point in her favor. Plus, she swore to Steven the night before that she’d never stop loving him, in spite of the fact that he was kicking her out. That was all good. She hadn’t confessed, she hadn’t turned nasty on him…

By the time she had dried her hair, she had more or less established this rosy scenario as irrefutable reality. Steven wouldn’t just instantly toss her aside, not even if he had strong physical evidence that she had cheated on him. He’d want to know for sure. She had never once given him a reason to doubt her fidelity. That had to count for something.

She was putting on her makeup when she heard the unfamiliar ring of her loaner cell phone. She ran to the bedroom, scrambling to find the right phone.

“Hello?”

“Glad I caught you. Where are you right now?” Burt asked, his voice low.

“I’m at the beach house,” Madeline whispered back.

“Inside?”

“Yes.”

“Can you walk outside, right now?” Burt’s urgency was starting to frighten her.

“Yes.”

“Good. Walk as far from the house as you can. I’ll call you in a couple minutes.” Madeline struggled into a sweater and headed for the side door, grabbing her tote on the way out. The way Burt was talking, she was half afraid the place was about to blow up. She was past the old, defunct Miramar Hotel by the time the phone rang again.

“Sorry to be so cloak and dagger,” Burt said as soon as she answered, “but it occurred to me that we didn’t have enough time to go over precautions.”

“Oh,” Madeline replied, looking back over her shoulder at the house she’d just vacated. It was still intact. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.

She was glad Burt had called because she wanted him to confirm for her that it was plausible her suspicions about Steven might be unfounded after all. He had intimated as much at his office. But she wanted to see if he really felt it was a possibility, or if he was covering all bases out of habit. As she stood there in the sand, the cool breeze and the alarming call making her extra alert, she realized how quickly she’d become invested in that hope.

“I’m sorry I had to cut our meeting short, but I had to finish up another case. So…”

“So…,” Madeline echoed.

“What concerns me is the fact that your husband has not only hired Barnett to trail you, but that he also has his own in-house security detail. You mentioned that Steven wants you out of the main house by the time he returns from Dallas.”

“That’s right. He told me I could live at the beach house until the divorce is final. But there’s something I wanted…”

“This is what I’m thinking… Is Barnett still shadowing you?”

“No, I didn’t see him after I came here earlier today.”

“What time was that?”

“Um…1:30, quarter till two.”

“Here’s my gut take on what’s going on—Steven tells you to be out of the Park Lane house by Saturday. He arranges for your things to be taken to the Miramar house by the time he gets back. He leaves town, which gives you the impression he’s away and unaware of your activities. He knows you stayed at the main house last night. This gives his security team time at the beach house to install surveillance devices. Barnett waits for you to leave Park Lane this morning, informs Steven’s security that you’re out, then follows you around town until he gets the all-clear.”

Madeline had listened to this long-winded theory impatiently. She was anxious to tell him her own theory, to get his concurring opinion, to put her mind to rest. But as Burt’s hypothesis unfolded, Madeline’s body went rigid. It had the unmistakable ring of probability shaped by a professional investigator’s instincts. Only minutes ago she was certain Steven was secretly on her side. Now listening to Burt’s logical, unbiased appraisal of the situation, it hit her how desperate and pathetic it was to hope her problems could be so easily solved.

“Are you still there?” Burt asked.

“Yes, sorry…I’m here. I hadn’t thought about that,” Madeline muttered, a fresh wave of panic and distrust quickly eroding her pleasant fantasy.

“If I could be sure your place wasn’t being watched, I’d find a way to clear the beach house myself. But for all we know, Barnett could be driving around in a rental car, which would be a common enough move in a surveillance case. Or Steven’s own guys could be watching it remotely. My guess is you’re not going to feel comfortable unless you know for certain the place isn’t bugged.”

Madeline bit her lower lip to keep from crying. Problem was, she really wanted to cry. There was so much injustice in what had happened to her in less than a week, she couldn’t get her arms around it. She needed a friend she could confide in, someone she could tell the whole awful story to. But this was too much of a bomb to lay on anyone, even if she could bring herself to admit the facts and suspicions surrounding the demise of her marriage.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Madeline asked, her voice thick with emotion.

“I was just suggesting that you might rest easier tonight if you took a room in a hotel. At least you’d be assured the place wasn’t bugged.”

“Okay. That sounds like the best idea.” Madeline hung her head, feeling pushed into a corner once again.

“There’s a small inn downtown that I like to use to keep tabs on my clients. It’s very discreet and they know me there. If you’re comfortable with that, I can book you a room and set up my own surveillance on the street. That way, if you’re still being watched, we’ll know. By the way, where’s your car parked?”

“In the garage. The door’s down.”

“Good. I don’t mean to scare you here, but you know better than anyone the ruthlessness of whoever set you up.” Madeline glanced across to Santa Cruz Island as she braced herself.

“Burt…can I just run one stupid thought passed you?”

“Shoot.”

“Could it be remotely possible that Steven hired Russell Barnett to find out if I was telling the truth? Maybe he’s hired Barnett to find out who took these pictures and why,” Madeline suggested, trying to keep her enthusiasm in check. The silence on the phone told her she was about to have her hopes dashed for good.

“I would say that was as good a theory as any, if I didn’t have a piece of information I haven’t told you yet. I’m just starting to work on your case, but the first thing I did was have the airline manifests checked to confirm Steven’s travel plans.” Madeline stood stock still. Could the situation possibly get worse?

“Steven boarded the 6:05 flight to LAX out of SBA on American Airlines. But he didn’t continue on to Dallas. He boarded an 8:10 flight to Boston. I’ve got my feelers out, but haven’t gotten any confirmation back on his final destination.”

Madeline barely heard this last sentence. Her mind was filled with images of Steven ranting at her, calling her a whore, slamming the door in her face. It was all true, what she had suspected since she saw the payoff: Steven was a scheming, conniving bastard. God only knew what he was really up to.

But if it involved framing her to stiff her on a divorce settlement and alimony, it had to mean he was one of the cheapest, cruelest men alive, or that he was in deep financial trouble. Whatever his reason for sabotaging the beautiful life she had made for herself, she wasn’t going to play the patsy.

“Madeline?”

“I’m still here. What’s the name of that hotel?”

“Eastside Inn. On Garden, just up from Canon Perdido. And there’s one more thing—do you belong to a gym?”

“No. We have a gym at home.”

“I want you to sign up for a membership at the Santa Barbara Fitness Club tomorrow. They have a 30-day refundable policy, which should take us through this investigation. We can meet there discreetly without attracting attention. You know where it is?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Go in as early as possible tomorrow to sign up, then we can arrange to meet later on.”

“Okay.”

“If you try to contact me on this number and I don’t answer, don’t leave a message. I’ll see I have a missed call from your phone and I’ll call you back. Any questions? I know this is a lot of skulking around and I’m sure you’re not used to it.” Madeline laughed half-heartedly.

“You could say that. I never thought I’d be hiding from my husband’s goon squad and fleeing my own homes out of fear of being spied on.”

“We’ll get the facts sorted out and you’ll be in charge of your life again,” Burt assured her. Madeline shook her head mournfully; it was hard to imagine she could outsmart her evil husband, let alone have a life to be in charge of again.