Russell Barnett licked his parched lips. “Your husband came to me with his suspicions that you were having an affair. Tracking unfaithful spouses is the bulk my business. His request was straightforward—simple garden-variety surveillance with all the benefits of modern technology. He said he’d found notations in your appointment book that were suspicious, and your behavior after these alleged assignations had led him to believe you were having secret dalliances with another man.
“He told me that you had the initials A.R. circled on the day of the fundraiser—the same initials that supposedly popped up in the last few months of your agenda—next to the notation ‘Rm #106.’ He told me he had learned from another source that you had been seen walking through The Edgecliff grounds arm and arm with another man. He wanted me to set up surveillance on that room on the night of the fundraiser. I did as he requested. Afterwards, he had me start following you to see if you’d ever lead us to the ‘other man.’”
Madeline had listened to the account with an impassive expression. She could feel Mike tense up like a tightly wound coil, ready to spring. She knew instinctively he was ready to challenge Barnett, but was holding back out of deference to her. It was her show, and he was going to let her take the lead and provide backup when necessary.
“That’s the PG version,” Madeline said at length. “If I hadn’t just been treated to three weeks of cat and mouse terror, I might’ve taken you at your word, simply due to ignorance of the sordid predicaments people get themselves involved in. But from my new, cynical viewpoint, I see a few flaws in your account of events.
“For starters, if you were taking a flyer at which hotel I was to rendezvous with my secret lover based on a rumor Steven ‘supposedly’ heard, then you are a rank amateur. Secondly, the video and stills were not taken through a pane of glass. Anyone having a secret affair would not conduct it with the draperies opened. Besides, the angle, closeness and clarity indicate the video recorder was inside the hotel room.” Barnett coughed and tried to clear his throat. “Being inside means you would’ve had to break into the room to set the camera up, or have help from someone on staff. Either way, you were in the wrong. Are you willing to break the law for all your clients, Mr. Barnett?”
“Now would be the time to give it to us straight, before Ms. Dawkins calls the D.A.” Mike said, eyeing Barnett the way a cat would observe a slow-witted lizard. Barnett tried unsuccessfully to clear his throat again. Madeline got up and filled a paper cup with water from the cooler and handed it to the P.I. She took her seat and waited for him to speak.
“Your husband offered me five-times my going rate to do this job. I knew what he was asking me to do was against the law, but I believed his story and I wanted the case. It had all the earmarks of adultery, so my conscience didn’t bother me at all. In my business, if it walks like adultery, it’s adultery.”
“Right. The rape of an unconscious woman is video-recorded, and getting paid five-times the customary rate persuaded you that the woman in question—me—was an adulteress,” Madeline said, not bothering to hide her rancor.
“I wasn’t there when it was being recorded,” Russell said, trying to hold his ground.
“Did you look at it before you gave it to my husband?”
“No.”
“Don’t you usually look at the evidence before you give it to your clients, make sure you’ve got what they’re looking for…?” Madeline said, head cocked, waiting for Barnett to step on his own dick. His bewildered expression and lack of a coherent answer said it all.
“Look, a man walks in here and throws a lot of money at me to get recorded proof of his unfaithful wife, and a bonus if I get the goods. Am I going to argue when he tells me I’m not to preview the evidence?” Barnett said, looking to Mike this time for sympathy.
“Then how do you know it ‘walked like adultery’?” Madeline asked. Russell sputtered.
“This is a waste of time,” Mike said. “I say we throw this loser to the D.A. for target practice.”
“Hold on…,” Russell said, his agitation showing. I’ll tell it to you straight, but I want guarantees you won’t go to the D.A.”
Madeline looked at Mike. They had the dirt she was looking for—preserved for future use, thanks to the multi-purpose pen.
“Can’t do that,” Mike said. “What you did nearly cost this lady her life,” he said, leaning over the desk as though he might make a grab for Barnett’s throat.
“And it did cost Burt Latham his,” Madeline added. Both were surprised when Russell Barnett’s face crumbled into a mask of wretched shame.
“What did you think of Burt Latham?” Madeline asked. Barnett sucked in a ragged breath and regained some of his composure.
“He was a very good detective,” he said with reverence. “One of the best.” Madeline noticed the catch in Barnett’s voice as he said this.
“Considering that I hired him the day after I saw my husband hand you an envelope on Santa Barbara Street and learned your identity when I followed you to this office, why didn’t Burt pursue you as a very likely source of information regarding my rape?” Barnett half- shrugged, but Madeline wasn’t going to let him off the hook. “What prevented him from exposing your part in this crime?”
“I don’t—”
“Don’t give me that crap. What was it that prevented Burt from following the course of action I hired him to perform? Digging up Steven’s possibly fraudulent business dealings was his way of avoiding a confrontation with you. And frankly, Burt Latham was ten times the professional you could ever—”
“Burt Latham was my brother-in-law,” Russell said, looking directly into Madeline’s eyes. “He gave me my start in this business. I was married to his sister. She died of cancer four years ago,” Russell Barnett said, eyes lowered.
“The reason Burt wasn’t keen on pursuing my involvement in your…the setup against you…was because he’d know from looking at the photos that someone would’ve set the camera up on the inside. Knowing I was involved—and breaking the law, again—his enormous sense of duty to his family and clients led him to shoot for sparing one while serving the other.”
“You mean, taking the riskier route of proving embezzlement in order to keep you out of jail?” Madeline asked. Russell nodded solemnly. Madeline and Mike exchanged glances. Russell buried his face in his hands.
“I feel plenty responsibility for your rape and Burt’s death,” Russell said, his voice cracking. He was slouched over, as if he didn’t have the strength to hold himself erect. “I’ll testify to my part in your husband’s scheme to blackmail you. In light of the way this unraveled, there’s no doubt about my culpability. I’m sorry. You can call the D.A. now, if you want. I won’t resist arrest.”
Madeline and Mike pretended to mull this over. Madeline hoped this disclosure would lift the heavy weight of guilt from her shoulders. It should have, but too much had happened in too short a period of time. Maybe in a week she’d feel better. Maybe in a month…
“At this point, Mr. Barnett, adding one more log to the fire under my husband’s feet is superfluous.” Russell looked at Madeline cautiously. “I think I have a proposal which will serve to make amends—to me, at least.”
“What is it?” Russell asked.
“My friend Mike and I would like to join forces with you.”
“What are you talking about?” Russell asked, clearly caught off guard.
“After the up-close and personal crash course I’ve just taken in the world of espionage, Mike and I would like to pursue a career in private investigation.”
“You’re joking.”
“No, we’re very serious,” Madeline assured him.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about allowing us to apprentice with you, with the goal of becoming licensed private investigators ourselves.” R
ussell stared at them, his mouth open in disbelief.
“I just admitted I’ve broken the law, and not just once…” Mike and Madeline nodded passively. “It takes three years to fulfill the training requirement…” His audience nodded again, more enthusiastically this time. Russell pushed away from his desk, hands to the sides of his head, as if he suddenly had the mother of all hangovers.
“You’re serious…?”
“Serious as a prison sentence,” Mike said.
“What do you say, Russell?” Madeline asked brightly.
“Do you two know anything about this business?”
“I’ve started an online course,” Madeline offered proudly. “And let’s not forget the ‘on the job training’ I just received, thanks to my soon-to-be-ex.”
“I’m just naturally inquisitive,” Mike added.
“You’re probably not bluffing, are you?” Russell asked. Madeline shook her head.
“One more criminal snagged in the D.A.’s net is one more head on his mantelpiece,” Mike said. “We came to you first. Someone will take us on…” Russell blinked hard in an attempt to dispel the scene in front of him.
“Alright. You win,” he said in a voice barely audible. “I’ll train you to pass the exam, but after three years…” Russell paused as he grasped the dubiousness of what he was taking on. “After three years, you’re on your own and I’ve paid my debt to you. And I want it in writing.”
“Not a problem,” Madeline said. “What part do you want put in writing—the part about us keeping quiet about your role in my rape…?” Russell buried his head in his hands.
“Look,” Mike said, “we’ll be out of your hair the minute our licenses come through. Three years is too long to hold a grudge. You’re just going to have to take our word that we won’t renege on the deal.”
Russell studied their faces for a moment. He opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass. He poured himself a couple ounces and slugged it back.
“Okay, first lesson,” Russell said, eyeing the pen in Mike’s shirt pocket, “recorded conversations are illegal in California unless all parties consent to being recorded.” Mike smiled and turned the pen’s mic off.
“Got it, boss,” Mike said, with a wink to Madeline.
“I think you better offer us a drink to commemorate this fateful occasion,” Madeline suggested.
As she sipped whisky from a paper cup, she supposed that sometimes compromise was more practical than revenge.
Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 01 - Spouse Trap Page 35
