“I took care of that on Monday,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Burt said.
“Don’t be. I appreciate your concern,” she said. She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.
“What is it?” Burt asked, as she regarded him, her expression now hard and focused.
“I found out from our housekeeper this morning that Steven has already been spinning our breakup. She begged me with tears in her eyes not to leave him. I don’t know who else has gotten this warped version of events.” Burt gave her a dour look of sympathy.
“For now, I want you to continue playing the role of the perfect wife. I’ve got another case I’m wrapping up, so I’ll be in touch with you later. In the meantime, go back to Saks and shop till you drop.” Madeline had to laugh at his directive.
“I guess I should. I may need to convert some luxury goods to cash down the road,” she said as she stood to leave. “Anything else I should be doing until I hear from you?”
“Can you get access to the guest list and a list of any additional donations that were pledged that night?”
“I should be able to.”
“I want you to take a look at all the names on the lists and mark all the ones you personally know. That will help to narrow the list for me. If you can think of anyone else that was in attendance that night—like florists or musicians, whoever—see if you can get their names, too.” Madeline was looking a bit overwhelmed by the assignment.
“I cast my net as far as I can in the beginning, that way I don’t have to spend time running down the info later. I always overkill on fact-finding leads. You just never know which one is the key to unlocking the case.”
“I see. Anything else I should be doing?”
“Keep discreet tabs on your shadow. If at any point you think Barnett has stopped following you, let me know.”
TEN
Madeline left Burt Latham’s office in a daze. She snapped out of it briefly as she exited the stairwell to State Street. She slipped on her sunglasses and feigned obliviousness as she scanned the area for signs of her tail. She relaxed as she reentered Saks and remembered her directive to “shop till she dropped.” In spite of her dire circumstances, the echo of Burt’s words made her smile.
A nervous Maryanne spotted her as soon as she neared the shoe salon. “I’ve got everything boxed and bagged for you, Mrs. Ridley. Was there anything else you wanted to try on before I ring you up?” she asked hopefully. Madeline regarded the four shopping bags by the register; she couldn’t for the life of her remember what was in them.
“No, I think that’s going to do it for now.”
“Very well, Mrs. Ridley. If I could just get your card…”
Madeline had the shopping bags put in her car while she ventured on to the next department: fine jewelry. The thought of the damage she could do there made her grin wickedly.
“Well, hello Mrs. Ridley!” Leona called out from behind the display case. “I was just reading about the event at The Edgecliff Saturday night. Gorgeous photo of you and your handsome husband!” Madeline forced a small laugh. “I hear it was a great success,” Leona flattered her, leaning suggestively over the counter, subtly drawing Madeline’s attention to the striking enhancer dangling from a silver chain around her neck.
“Talk about gorgeous,” Madeline said, happily taking the bait. Leona lifted it up to give Madeline a better look.
“Tanzanite and white sapphires,” Leona informed her as she unclasped it and handed to Madeline. “Just came in this morning and I had to try it on. Wow, with your coloring, that is just amazing!” Madeline looked at herself in the mirror Leona was quick to supply. It was beautiful, even on a T-shirt.
“I’m not really doing it any justice with this outfit,” she said, handing it back to Leona, who accepted it with disappointment.
“You should try it on with something upstairs—or take it home and try it with some of your own things,” she suggested. Madeline could barely suppress a smile at her blatant salesmanship.
“Put it aside and I’ll think about it,” Madeline said, her eyes already on to the bracelets in the case. “I need a gift for Lauren. She’s been working her tail off these last few months.”
“I’m sure she’d love one of these. Does she own any David Yurman?”
“Not yet,” Madeline said, toying with Leona. “Let me see that one with the peridot.”
“Ooh, she’d love this,” Leona said, placing it on the suede viewing square.
“So this is where successful fundraisers go to get their just rewards,” Carla Dickens said as she crept up behind Madeline, making her jump. Carla laughed at her co-chair’s reaction, grabbing her shoulders from behind as she gave her a playful squeeze.
“It’s not for me,” Madeline insisted, playing down the indulgence. “It’s for Lauren, so she won’t go looking for an easier job.”
“She’d love it. But then I’d have to get something for my Stephanie just as expensive or she’d go looking for greener pastures.”
Madeline mouthed to Leona to hold the two pieces for her and turned her attention back to Carla. Burt had assigned her a mission, and this was as good an opportunity as any to get an eyewitness account of her behavior Saturday night.
“What brings you in here?” Madeline asked, steering Carla away from the counter.
“We’re leaving for Venice next week…”
“Oh, that’s right,” Madeline said, missing half a beat. The auction item: Carla’s husband must’ve won the bid.
“Need to pick out some fabulous things for the trip.”
“Of course. I’ll come with you and get my thrills vicariously,” Madeline joked as she let her co-chair lead the way.
“That was fun!” Carla said, her face beaming as she waited for Justin to bring her car around. He pulled up the Jaguar sedan and hopped out. He took the bags from Carla and deposited them in the trunk. “My schedule is packed, but let’s talk before I leave next week. Maybe we can squeeze in a lunch or something.” She favored Madeline with two air-kisses, tipped Justin and slid into the driver’s seat.
“Oh, wait—I almost forgot! We’ve got the committee meeting tomorrow night. That’s right—I’ll see you then. Bye love.”
“Bye, see you tomorrow,” Madeline said, barely able to conceal her dread. Justin pulled her car up and held the door open as she rifled through her overcrowded tote for her wallet.
“I had to put some of the bags on the passenger’s side—hope that’s alright,” Justin said as Madeleine slid a ten into his hand.
“That’s fine,” she said, slipping into her low-slung sports car. She fished out her sunglasses and took stock of all the loot she had acquired. Instead of giving her the customary thrill, the evidence of such useless spending dampened her mood. While pretending to make sure everything was accounted for, she checked the immediate environs for signs of Steven’s P.I. She began feeling a little panicky as she started out of the lot, but just before turning right onto Carrillo, she glimpsed a silver Honda through the hedge in the public lot adjacent to Saks.
She couldn’t say for sure it was Barnett, so instead of going straight down Carrillo to the freeway, she waited for the pedestrians to cross, then turned right up Chapala. While she waited for the light to turn green at Figueroa, the silver Accord exited the public lot. This made her breathe easier.
As an excuse for heading this direction, Madeline pulled up in front of the Wine Hound. After purchasing a couple bottles of wine that she didn’t need, she got back in her Porsche, but not before making Barnett’s sedan.
With private dick in tow, Madeline headed for the freeway. She went through the lights and merged onto 101 unaware of her actions; her mind was a seething stew of information and new concerns.
It was almost 1:30 and
she was famished. Problem was, she was in too vulnerable a state and didn’t want to go home. Home, she thought; not for much longer.
There was another more practical reason for not wanting to go back up the hill just yet; it went against her sense of decorum to show up at the house with her car packed with proof of her shopping extravaganza. She didn’t want Erma and Hughes thinking any worse of her than they already did.
With all the worries dancing around her head, she almost missed her exit. As she sat at the stop sign waiting for traffic to pass, she got an idea better than creeping around her own home like a thief. Instead of turning left, she cranked the wheel and executed a quick right, toward Miramar Beach.
Though hiding out at the beach appealed to her desire for privacy, once she was standing in the entry, the bungalow felt far too confining. It had been closed up since the weekend and the winter sun made the place feel as though all the oxygen molecules had expired. She opened a few windows to get a cross breeze going and opened the blinds on the east side of the house to let some light in. She’d always loved this house, but the thought of living there in exile for six months made her edgy.
She needed to put her thoughts in order and digest her meeting with Burt Latham, and this was as good a place as any. But she also needed to eat. She was starting to feel lightheaded and she knew there was nothing there to eat except for some stale crackers and martini olives. She stood in the middle of the living room for another minute as she willed herself into action. She shuffled her priorities, and after stuffing her day’s purchases in the hall closet, went in search of something to eat.
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 da
nced 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.
Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 01 - Spouse Trap Page 6
