Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 01 - Spouse Trap (4 page)

EIGHT

“We just got those in—aren’t they fabulous?” the saleswoman asked as Madeline distractedly admired a pair of zebra-striped Manolo Blahnik sling-back heels. “Would you like to try them on, Mrs. Ridley?” Madeline looked at the shoe in her hand as if she didn’t know how it got there. She started to put it back on the display, but changed her mind.

“Sure, Maryanne—why not? And while you’re back there, I’d like to try these as well,” Madeline said, handing her a jewel-encrusted silver slide.

“Good choice. They look amazing on,” Maryanne said before disappearing into the back. Madeline let out a sigh and sank onto one of the leather chairs. After mulling over the situation, she realized that shopping for no reason was actually a good way to not only get back at Steven, but to lift her spirits as well. In fact, she should be going at this as though it were a competition sport, she decided, rising out of the chair to check out what other pricey delights were on offer.

As winter was winding down, two racks had been placed on the showroom floor, boasting significant savings on boots and fancy holiday shoes. Madeline was in no mood for bargains; if she was going to sock it to Steven, she should go for the most extravagant footwear available.

Besides, Madeline rationalized as she ran her eyes over the Chanel and Prada tables, high-ticket shoes like these could easily be converted to cash on eBay. This thought put her in the proper frame of mind. As soon as Maryanne returned from the stockroom, Madeline had five more decadent styles she wanted to try on.

Before now, she had never fully appreciated the notion of “retail therapy.” But amplifying an urge that just came naturally gave her mood a huge lift. It was a perfect pastime, given the circumstances. If Steven bothered himself to keep tabs on her spending while he was in Dallas, then this was a very plausible display of inner turmoil.

What other choices had Steven left her with, after branding her as an adulteress, declaring he wanted a divorce, and ordering her off the property by the time he returned? He had given her zero hope of reconciliation and no means with which to prove her innocence. He had effectively taken away the ability to look to friends for consolation; those photos of her were his guarantee of her silence. He’d even jammed a wedge between her and the help.

So, faced with no other options, what could Madeline be expected to do but go shopping? She smiled as Maryanne teetered toward her with a wobbling tower of shoeboxes.

Trying on footwear with wild abandon was an expedient way to kill time. In fact, when Madeline remembered her hoped-for rendezvous, she was aghast to find that she’d overshot the clock by ten minutes.

“Oh shoot—I’ve got to run. You don’t mind holding these for me, do you Maryanne?” she said, as she wriggled back into her flats.

“Not at all,” the saleswoman replied, glancing around at the piles of boxes strewn around her feet. “Which ones?”

“All of them!” Madeline called out as she made a hasty exit.

By the time she reached the last office suite, Madeline’s pulse was racing. What if she had missed him? What if he hadn’t returned yet? She was too anxious to even consider these possibilities. She took one ragged breath to calm herself, then tried the doorknob. It turned. She pushed the door open to find a tall, grey-haired man leaning against the front of his desk, arms folded across his chest, a mere trace of bemused curiosity on his face.

“Mrs. Ridley, I presume?”

NINE

Madeline went momentarily weak with relief. Now that the unthinkable had been avoided, she took a second to compose herself.

“That’s correct. And you must be Mr. Latham.”

“Call me Burt,” he replied, as he beckoned for her to follow him into his private office. He casually seated himself behind the desk and motioned for Madeline to take a seat in one of the two visitor chairs. “I’m glad I popped by to get something this morning. I wasn’t planning on coming into the office today.”

“Lucky for me,” Madeline said, easing herself into a chair.

“So, Mrs. Ridley, how can I be of help?”

Madeline felt her face grow hot as she reached into her tote for the manila envelope. She slid it across the table toward Burt Latham, but she didn’t let go of it. Burt leaned forward automatically to pick it up, but stopped short, his eyes meeting hers. Clearly, she felt the need for prior disclosure. She took a couple deep breaths for courage.

“Can you give me your word that anything I reveal to you will be strictly confidential, between us and no one else?”

“I absolutely guarantee it,” Burt said, sitting back in his chair, sending Madeline the message he didn’t intend to rush her in any way. She relaxed a little and let go of the envelope.

“Before you look at these photos, I’d like to first give you some background.” Madeline glanced around and found what she was looking for. “Could I trouble you for some water?” Burt got up and took a paper cup off the stack, filled it with tepid water and handed it to her.

“Thank you.” Madeline gratefully drank the stale-tasting water as she collected her thoughts. “Last Saturday evening, my husband and I attended a fundraiser at The Edgecliff. I was a co-chair of the event, so it was a working gala for me. My husband, Steven, was in an irritable mood on the way over, but I was too preoccupied to attach any significance to it.

“Looking back, I recall that he seemed out of sorts throughout the dinner, and when the dancing started, he flat out refused to dance with me, which is totally out of character for him. I asked him if something was wrong and he snapped at me. When a man approached and asked me to dance, I did. I was happy for the diversion. I suppose this was not a wise move on my part, but given my position, I felt completely justified. It was part of my duties to keep the festivities going.

“When the first song ended, my dance partner kept me on the floor. Like I said, this was a fundraiser, and for all I knew, this man—whom I’ve never seen before—could’ve been contributing heavily to our campaign. I danced through one more number with him, then begged off tactfully.

“When I got back to our table, Steven was livid. In the twelve years I’ve been married to him, he’d never acted like that before. He read me the riot act for dancing with the man, called me all kinds of horrible names—just went off on me. I tried to calm him down. Honestly, I thought there might be something wrong with him. But everything I said seemed to infuriate him more.

“He turned away from me mid-sentence and stormed out of the ballroom. I went after him, but the valet had kept his car at the entrance, so he was able to drive away before I could reach it. I stood there, debating whether I should grab a cab and go after him, but I couldn’t do that. I had an auction to oversee, so I went back inside.

“As soon as I reentered the ballroom, the man I had danced with appeared with two glasses of champagne and a promise to make sure I got home safely. Even at the time, his offer struck me as a little odd. But I was so rattled by Steven’s departure, it didn’t make that much of an impression on me. Until yesterday morning.”

Madeline motioned for Burt to look at the contents of the envelope. She watched uncomfortably as the detective removed the photos and rotated them so he could see them properly. One by one, he scrutinized them, glancing up at Madeline as he compared the subject’s features to those of the woman in front of him.

“From the photos and what you’ve told me, it appears that one of two things occurred after your husband left,” Burt said, his forearms resting on the arms of his chair, his fingertips lightly balanced beside the photos. “Either you consented to have sex with this man, or you were drugged and have no recollection of what transpired prior to and during the photos.”

“The latter,” Madeline confirmed.

“When did you receive these?” Burt asked, leaning forward to grab a notepad.

“Actually, my husband received them yesterday, at his office.”

“Was there a demand made?”

“He didn’t say.”

“How were they delivered?” Madeline shook her head. Burt sat back in his seat while he contemplated the direction this story was taking.

“Does your husband know that you’ve come to see me?”

“No.”

“How did you come to be in possession of the photos?

“Steven brought them to me at home, around 10:30 yesterday morning.”

“What was his reaction?”

“He was outraged and devastated. He wants a divorce. He ordered me out of the house by the time he gets back from a business trip on Saturday. He left for Dallas early this morning.”

“What was your reaction to the photos?” Madeline choked on her answer. “It’s okay, take your time,” Burt said.

“I was absolutely horrified.”

“What happened after Steven left, after the man gave you the glass of champagne?” Again, Madeline found it hard to speak.

“I don’t remember. I can’t remember anything after that moment. Until I woke up, just before dawn in one of the cottage rooms at The Edgecliff.”

“I take it you were alone then…”

“Yes. And terrified. I had no idea where I was at first. I remember calling out for Steven, but I was alone…in bed…with nothing on.” She became silent as her gaze went inward.

“Tell me anything else you can remember,” Burt coaxed her.

“I remember this really awful taste in my mouth…and my head—it felt like it was going to split in half.”

“What did you do once you figured out where you were?

“I went into the bathroom, looking for Steven. I found my dress and put it on. My…my bra and panties had been torn to shreds… Um…I remember panicking about my jewelry…”

“Was any of it missing?”

“No, my diamond watch and bracelet were in my handbag, along with my credit card, driver’s license and phone. And a key to our beach house.”

“What did you do next?”

“I realized the key gave me a perfect cover story. I left through the French doors while it was still mostly dark out and was able to walk to our beach house without seeing anyone. I had a scalding hot shower, and around 9:30, after my head stopped pounding, I called Steven and told him I had stayed at the beach house because of the way he had walked out on me. Later, he picked me up and we went to brunch. It was like nothing had happened.”

Burt sat back in his chair, his eyes fixed on a spot above Madeline’s head.

“What do you think happened that night?” he asked.

“I think I was drugged. I think I was drugged and…” Madeline’s bottom lip began to quiver. She bit it to keep from crying.

“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Burt asked. The frankness of the question startled her. She was momentarily at a loss for an answer.

“Oh…wow…I don’t…I didn’t…I had no idea what had happened. I was pretty sure that I hadn’t ripped my own lingerie and put these scratches on my neck,” she said, pulling back her sweater for Burt to see. “But I didn’t know
what
had happened. Like I said, I had a splitting headache, and I was so disoriented.” She looked down at her hands while she tried to rationalize her actions.

“I guess I was afraid I had done something terrible,” she said, her lip trembling again. “I didn’t know what else to do. I was frightened and in shock. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.
Nothing
. I was puzzled by Steven’s behavior, but I wasn’t trying to retaliate or anything. I was just co-chairing an event, like I’ve done dozens of times. I wouldn’t pick up some guy and have sex with him, right there in the same hotel where everyone who works there would see me. It wouldn’t ever enter my mind to do something like that…” she sputtered. Burt held up his hands to stem the flow of words.

“I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything like that,” he said soothingly. “I was trying to get a better sense of what your mindset was the morning you found yourself in that hotel room.” Madeline took in shallow breaths as she tried to get her emotions under control.

“I’m sorry…” she said, taking another sip of water with a trembling hand.

“It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m trying to get you to paint as clear a picture as possible so I’ll know where I should concentrate my efforts. Are you alright?” Madeline nodded. “Okay, let me ask you this—why do you think someone would do this to you?”

“When I first saw the photos, I suspected someone was trying to get at Steven, discredit or blackmail him. Actually, it was something he said while railing at me, how if the existence of those pictures ever got out, it would irreparably damage his reputation.”

“That’s what he was most concerned about?” Burt asked skeptically.

“Not at first. No, Steven’s greatest fear has always been infidelity. His first wife cheated on him and he never got over the pain of it. When we first started getting serious, it was very hard for him to put his trust in someone that way again. He was so wary about having the same thing happen to him again, he made me sign a prenup with an infidelity clause.” Burt stiffened at hearing this.

“Yeah, I know,” Madeline said with a humorless laugh. “It’s taken me a little while to put the pieces together, but after Steven left the house yesterday morning, all I could think about was his emotional anguish and trying to find a way to convince him that I hadn’t
knowingly
been unfaithful to him. I was totally blindsided by seeing the photos, even though I knew something awful had happened to me at The Edgecliff. I really couldn’t believe I’d had sex with another man…I just couldn’t bear to let my mind go there. But after going over everything in my head, all I could think about was trying to save my marriage.

“Around one o’clock, I drove to Steven’s office downtown. I wanted a chance to talk to him, to tell him about what had happened after he left the fundraiser. But before I could get out of the car, I saw him on the sidewalk outside his building, handing an envelope to a man I didn’t recognize. The exchange was brief, and as I watched the man head up the street, I got this sudden impulse to follow him. He led me straight to his office in the 1300 block of Anacapa. The name on the window read ‘Russell Barnett, Private Investigator.’” Before Madeline could disclose the identity of the man she had followed, Burt’s countenance hardened with recognition.

“I take it you know this person,” Madeline said, watching his reaction carefully.

“It’s a small town, especially in my line of work.” Burt got up and went to stare out the window that gave view to the parking lot behind the building. Madeline took this opportunity to rack her brain for any detail she might’ve overlooked.

“Did you go speak to your husband after following Barnett?”

“No. I was too shaken. I couldn’t think of any innocent reason for Steven to be paying off a private investigator. He’s got an in-house security team, and the only explanation I could think of for needing outside help was if Steven were trying to do something on the sly. That, coupled with the photos, made me very suspicious of his motives.”

“Do you think Barnett saw you?”

“No,” Madeline said emphatically. “I stayed well behind him and hid once he entered his office. Besides, he’s been tailing me all morning, so he probably doesn’t know his cover’s been blown.” Burt swung away from the window.

“Did he follow you to this building?”

“No, I valet parked behind Saks. He didn’t follow me into the store, so I slipped out the front entrance unseen and ducked into this building.”

“Both times?” Burt grilled her. The question made Madeline blanch. She had been in such a rush, she hadn’t thought to scan the street when leaving Saks the second time.

“What did you do from the time you left the note until the time you returned?

“I went back into Saks, the way I left.”

“You were there the whole time?”

“Yes. I indulged in some revenge shopping,” Madeline admitted. Burt grunted his approval as he retook his seat.

“Steven’s having you trailed while he’s gone so that he can figure out what your plan is.”

“
My
plan?”

“He told you he wanted a divorce and said you had to be out of the house when he gets back on Saturday. In the three days that he’s away, his stooge will report back to him every move you make so Steven will know if you plan to hire some hotshot attorney to break the prenup. That’s probably his biggest worry right now.” Burt stared off into space while he pieced the probable scenario together.

“He’s most likely banking on you being too humiliated to show the photos to anyone. And, as far as your memory is concerned, you don’t know if you willingly engaged in sex with that man or not.” Madeline’s hand flew to her mouth as another cold truth about her husband’s scheme hit home. “So, after you followed Barnett, what did you do?”

“I went back home.”

“Did you speak to anyone?”

“Only our housekeeper, and only when she came to tell me Steven wouldn’t be home for dinner last night.”

“Did you see him before he left for the airport?”

“Yes, I was still up when he came home last night. He’d had our butler pack his bag and put his things in one of the guestrooms. My first reaction was to turn out my lights and pretend I was asleep. But then…I don’t know… I started thinking defensively after witnessing the payoff, so I decided the most convincing thing for me to do was to act remorseful and try to make him think I’d do anything to save our marriage.”

“What was his reaction?”

“He was very cold. He’s playing the wounded spouse to the hilt.” Burt sat back as he considered the situation.

“What do you want me to do for you, Mrs. Ridley?”