Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 02 - A High Price to Pay

by Cynthia Hamilton

  “Easier said than done. She’s not happy unless everyone around her is in a panic.”

  “Well, we just got our first case,” Mike said, clasping his hands together as he sauntered back into the event planning side of the office.

  “How’d that happen?” Madeline asked, clearly stunned by the news.

  “What is it?” Lauren asked, face lit up with anticipation.

  “It’s just a service of process,” Mike said, watching Madeline’s expression carefully.

  “Did he find us online?” Lauren asked.

  “Yep. Landlord with a delinquent tenant. Not the sexiest assignment in the world, but it might turn into a skip trace, which wouldn’t be so bad.” Madeline slid past him and went into her office. For reasons she couldn’t explain, his gloating was grating on her nerves. She blocked out the details as she collected her things.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Mike asked, miffed at his partner’s lack of enthusiasm.

  “To little Hollywood, where else?” Madeline replied as she slipped on her sunglasses and picked up the Tiffany bags.

  “Want to go out and celebrate tonight?” Mike whispered to Madeline.

  “We have class tonight,” she reminded him. It was not the answer Mike was looking for.

  “We could skip it this once.” Madeline shot that down with a shake of her head.

  “I need it. I’ve got a lot of pent-up frustrations to take out on somebody,” she said, moving toward the door.

  “Wait!” Lauren called out. “Might as well take the place cards with you,” she said, handing Madeline a cardboard box that had been delivered by the engravers.

  “Oh, thanks,” she said, shifting her load so she could peer at the contents. “Twenty-four karat gold leaf,” she said for Mike’s benefit as he leaned over to have a look. He shook his head disdainfully.

  “Someone is in for a big letdown,” he said as Madeline exited the office. It troubled him that he didn’t know which woman was going to take it the hardest: the birthday girl or Madeline. Something told him they were both in for an emotional hangover.

  TWO

  Madeline waved to the guard and waited as the massive iron gates slowly parted, then eased her Audi SUV down the stately driveway. Not for the first time, she felt a pang of regret for the way she had collaborated in the Disney-fying of this once impeccably elegant property. Just beyond the tall Italian cypress trees that lined the drive, the transformation became apparent. What Cherie Alexander had fashioned, with the help of two landscape designers and an army of laborers, was her own shortcut-version of Lotusland.

  Madeline winced at the comparison of Madame Ganna Walska’s botanic wonderland to what lay before her now. What Cherie had done to the six flat acres of prime Montecito real estate was a taste-impaired imitation in miniature. Madeline supposed that if nothing else, the estate could be used for location shooting after the weekend-long party was over.

  She pulled up behind a row of vendor and service vehicles. Ever since Cherie had gotten the brilliant idea to create her own legacy garden, the driveway had been choked with assorted vans and trucks every day of the week except Sundays, most spilling out from the service entrance.

  Two delivery men in blue coveralls were exiting the front door as Madeline approached. That they weren’t leaving through the back entrance caused a blip on the radar screen in Madeline’s mind, just enough to make her turn and note their company van as they climbed into it. Ah, the cushions, Madeline surmised.

  “Oh, hello Madeline,” the housekeeper said, a reluctant smile replacing an uncharacteristic scowl. “Mrs. Alexander’s in the gym with her trainer. I’ll let her know you’re here,” she said.

  “That’s okay, Helen—don’t bother her. I have a few things to check on.”

  “Madeline, I’m so glad you’re here,” Cherie’s assistant exclaimed, coming to a halt in the foyer. “Oh, are those the place cards?” she asked, seizing upon the box before Madeline could answer.

  “Yep, three of each, along with the seating layouts for Friday and Saturday nights and Sunday brunch.”

  “Thank you! One less thing to worry about,” Alice said.

  “You’re not supposed to worry—that’s my job. And here’s the swag for the bags,” Madeline said. “The bags from Tout le Monde did arrive, right?”

  “Yes, last night. I had them put in the giftwrapping room. Is that okay?”

  “Perfect. I’ll deal with that in a bit, but I want to check on the stage first. Would you mind…?” Alice took the Tiffany bags from her. “Thank you.” Madeline started off in the direction of the amphitheater, then pivoted back around. “How is she?”

  Alice closed her eyes and shook her head. “It’s been one of those days.”

  “So I gathered. Is she all right now?”

  “I don’t know if I’m qualified to answer that.” Alice cringed, admonishing herself for the wisecrack. Madeline laughed.

  “Another five days, and this will be nothing but a fond memory,” she promised, for both their sakes.

  Madeline inspected the limestone stage set at the foot of the mini-amphitheater while the two set designers quarreled in front of the arcing rows of stone benches. They had solicited her opinion about which side of the patterned cushions should be face-up on which night, but she tactfully deferred to their judgment. She checked the mason’s handiwork and the mounted light fixtures, heaved a huge sigh of relief and crossed that off her list.

  She left the amphitheater and walked through the fledgling lemon tree pergola, the one faithfully borrowed idea from the Lotusland gardens. On her way to inspect the pavilion, her mind fast-forwarded to Friday afternoon. From that point on, she’d be on duty 24/7, directing traffic and praying everything came off without a hitch. As she exited the pergola, she turned left and found Cherie’s mother-in-law sitting with her young companion on a granite bench with lion head armrests. The sight struck Madeline as both comical and sad. They looked like two waifs lost at a carnival.

  “Good morning, Miss Story.”

  “Oh, good morning, dear,” the elderly actress said. “How’s everything going with Barnum and Bailey’s?”

  Madeline had to laugh. “Well, the show’s still on track for opening on Friday,” she answered, stopping in front of Vivian Story and her attendant. Vivian nudged the girl to make room for Madeline.

  “Sit down, dear—take a rest while you can. It may be your last chance until this fiasco is over.” Vivian covered her mouth, feigning embarrassment.

  “Are you looking forward to it at all?” Madeline asked as she took a seat by the still-glamorous former star.

  “Of course! I’m looking forward to Sunday night with all my heart,” Vivian replied, her sly wit making Madeline laugh again. Vivian glanced around nonchalantly, checking for spies. As Madeline had witnessed firsthand, Cherie was constantly looking for proof of her mother-in-law’s disapproval, imagining it when it wasn’t in evidence. They weren’t enemies, but they weren’t allies, either.

  “Well, I’m with you on that one,” Madeline confided. “But even though I’ll be working the whole time, I do think it will be a lot of fun.” This last statement earned her an arched eyebrow and a skeptical stare. “I’m sure the tension will ease once all the workers are gone. Having Ross back will have a calming effect on Cherie,” she predicted optimistically.

  Vivian coughed delicately. “He phoned earlier to say he won’t be home until Friday morning.” This bulletin explained why Cherie was in a worse dither than usual. The women traded glances and wisely let the subject drop.

  “Teresa, be a love and get my wrap. It’s cooler out here than I realized.”

  “Do you want your hat too, Miss Story?” Teresa asked, already getting to her feet.

  “That’s a good idea,” Vivian replied. “Oh, and would you please ask Helen if we could have some tea in the solari
um?”

  “For both of you?” Teresa asked. Vivian turned toward Madeline with an inquiring look.

  “Oh, no thank you. I’ve got to get back to work.”

  “Just you and me, Teresa,” Vivian said. Teresa smiled courteously at Madeline before turning toward the house.

  Vivian watched the girl until she was out of sight and turned back to Madeline. “I have a business matter to discuss with you,” she said, her demeanor becoming serious. Madeline always welcomed new business, but the circumstances caught her off guard. She stared at Vivian, momentarily speechless.

  “Don’t worry, dear. I’m not going to ask you to spearhead my eighty-fifth birthday party. It’s about your other business, the sleuthing thing.” Madeline was surprised that Vivian even knew about that.

  “You want to hire me as a private investigator?”

  “Yes,” Vivian whispered. She scanned the environs for bodies before continuing. “It’s about Teresa,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m very fond of the child. But you see, a few pieces of my good jewels have gone missing… I don’t seriously believe she took them, but the rest of the staff has been here for years.”

  Madeline’s expression registered the appropriate concern as her mind whirred with all the potential ramifications. Teresa was hardly the only new face on the Alexander estate. The preparations for this birthday extravaganza had involved a continuous parade of tradespeople. All the work they’d done had been outside, but anyone with thieving inclinations would know how and when to strike.

  “When did you notice your jewelry was missing?” Madeline asked, reaching into her bag for a notepad.

  “A week ago. Ross will have a fit, I’m sure. He doesn’t like that I don’t keep all my good things in the safe. But I’m very sentimental these days, and having those particular pieces close at hand reminded me of happier times. Not that I’m unhappy now,” Vivian rushed to add.

  “I understand.”

  “But I do miss Walter terribly.”

  “I’m sure you do. So, prior to their disappearance, where exactly did you keep these pieces?”

  “In a Limoges box, on my dressing table.”

  “And I suppose you’ve looked everywhere for them?” Vivian nodded ruefully. “Have you checked the safe?” Madeline couched her question with a sympathetic smile.

  “I did. And don’t feel badly about asking. I know my wits aren’t as sharp as they used to be.”

  “Could Cherie have taken them to a jeweler for cleaning?”

  Vivian almost laughed. “It would’ve never entered her head.”

  Madeline knew she was right. “Did anyone other than Teresa know that you kept those pieces in your room?”

  “It’s possible that the maids came across them. But like I said, most everyone who works on the premises has been here for years. And I’m not sure Teresa even knows where I keep them. I’ve never shown them to her.”

  Madeline’s gaze wandered to the treetops as she digested this last statement.

  “So why did you single her out when telling me about the missing jewelry?” she asked, giving the actress a sidelong glance. Vivian smiled almost imperceptibly before letting her guard down.

  “I suppose you could file that under ‘opportunity,’” she replied. “And because she’s only been with me a relatively short time. And I know she comes from a very poor background.” Vivian’s shoulders sagged as she said this. Madeline could read the anxiety in her eyes.

  “Tell me what you know about Teresa’s past.”

  “Well, that’s just it. I don’t know much, really. She came to me after my dear friend Eloise passed away. She wasn’t with Ellie for very long, but Ellie became very attached to her. When Teresa became available, I snatched her up. I didn’t bother to have her…‘vetted,’ as they say.”

  “Your friend Eloise, does she have any family or friends who might be able to fill in Teresa’s background?”

  “Well, there are still a few of us old girls left…let me think who might have had any contact with Teresa. Hmm…I’ll have to get back to you on that—my memory is being uncooperative.” Madeline tapped her notepad with the pen, willing herself to come up with another line of inquiry.

  “But wait,” Vivian said suddenly, “Ellie did have a daughter, lives in Santa Ynez, I think. Yes…um, Sibyl Watson…Waters…no, Wately—that’s it. She might know more about the girl than I do. I realize it was stupid of me to not have her checked out, but our priorities change as we grow older. Comfort comes from having someone to keep you company, not in how they stack up to social standards. I guess that’s why the elderly are often taken advantage of. I suppose you could say that aging makes you needy,” Vivian said, her gaze drifting with her thoughts.

  “I guess a background check is in order, then.”

  “Yes. I realize it’s a little late, but I really owe it to my son to find out if I’ve allowed a thief into the house. You see, it’s a bit awkward…”

  Madeline chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Is she legal?”

  “I assume so.”

  “Her English is good. Did she go to school here?” Vivian shook her head. “What’s her last name?”

  “Gomez. Teresa Maria Gomez. That much I do know,” Vivian said with a self-deprecating smile. Madeline looked out across the property. She wondered how many Teresa Maria Gomezes there were in California, and if that was even her real name.

  “Do you know if she’s paid under the table or if she’s W-2?”

  “W-2. All the staff is. Ross insists. Everything has to be one-hundred percent above-board. He got in trouble for having an undocumented worker on the gardening staff years ago and he’ll never forget it.”

  “Well, that makes it easy. If she has a Social Security card, she’s probably here legally. If you can get me the number, I can run a credit check on her. That will give us a lot of information.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. We can find out former addresses and employers, if they didn’t pay her under the table. And we can also see if she’s got any judgments against her or if she’s behind in her payments—credit cards, car loans, utilities.”

  “Oh, I seriously doubt she has a credit card,” Vivian said. “And she doesn’t have a car. She takes the bus to the corner of Olive Mill and Hot Springs and walks up, poor dear. She says she doesn’t mind it, but I do wish she had her own set of wheels.”

  “So you don’t think she has a driver’s license?” Vivian shook her head. “Okay, as soon as you can get me her social, I’ll pull her credit.” Vivian winced.

  “That’s going to be hard to do, I’m afraid. Helen has all that documentation, and I would have no good reason to ask her for it.”

  “How about an address?” Vivian shrugged as she lifted her hands, palms up, a sad smile on her face. “But you could ask her…right?” Even though Madeline was excited about her new case, she didn’t much relish the idea of trying to shadow a city bus, waiting for Teresa to alight so she could follow her home.

  “It would be much easier, and quicker, if I had her social…” Madeline thought out loud. She turned to Vivian and studied her for a moment. “You’re afraid of putting Helen on alert about Teresa, but what if I approach Helen? I realize her loyalty lies with your son, but perhaps I can persuade her that handling this discreetly for the time being is the best course of action, for everyone.”

  Vivian pursed her lips and let her gaze drift over the garden. “She’ll think I’m an old fool. She’ll regret the day I moved in here.”

  “I doubt that. But before I talk with her, maybe I should take a look around your rooms, just in case.”

  “I would so appreciate it,” Vivian said, relief written all over her face.

  “That way we don’t raise any red flags until we’re absolutely certain the jewels are missing. But I really wouldn’t feel c
omfortable doing it without you present. What time does Teresa leave for the day?

  “Four o’clock.”

  “How about Helen?”

  Vivian rolled her eyes. “The poor woman has had no life outside this place since Cherie decided she was her generation’s Ganna Walska.”

  Great, Madeline thought, she probably hates me. “When do you usually sit down for dinner?”

  “Well, we don’t really eat together unless Ross is here. I usually have something around 6:30. Cherie either doesn’t eat or she goes out.”

  Madeline reviewed the day’s obligations in her head and looked at her watch. “Okay. I’ve got another meeting I’ve got to attend across town at one o’clock. I can probably get here around four. I’m sure I’ll find an excuse for coming back. I’ll come by your room and we can give it a thorough going over before I go speak to Helen. While we’ve got time, tell me what I should be looking for.”

  “Well, the diamond and ruby brooch came from Van Cleef & Arpels. A daisy. Diamond petals with a ruby cabochon center. Walter had it made for me after we finished filming ‘The Life of Daisy Huntington.’” Vivian’s bottom lip trembled slightly as she spoke. She cleared her throat and continued.

  “The bracelet is also diamonds and rubies, made by Cartier. And the ring is from Harry Winston, a two-carat emerald baguette surrounded with diamond baguettes. Everything set in platinum. All old treasures that I haven’t had appraised in years,” Vivian said wistfully. She looked up at Madeline, her eyes conveying her anxiety. “I’m too old to care for possessions much anymore, but I feel so foolish. Children have a way of appropriating future ownership in advance. I know Ross will be furious with me. Not that they’re really Cherie’s style, but I think it’s the principle of the thing. A sense of entitlement. You know what I mean?”

  An unsettling thought crossed Madeline’s mind and she had to wonder if she’d just landed herself in a conflict of interest.

  “Are you saying Cherie has designs on your jewelry?”

  “Oh no, nothing like that!” Vivian was quick to assure her. “But you know how it is. Heirs often have a running tally in their heads of what’s coming to them down the road. Now I feel silly. I shouldn’t have implied that she was a likely suspect.”