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

by Cynthia Hamilton

  She needed a time-out, needed to freeze-frame all the insanity of her business long enough to order her thoughts so she could put a plan in place. If only this had happened a couple weeks later, when Hollywood Babylon and the hundred-thousand dollar wedding were behind her. She’d have another week and a half before those two events were scrapbook material and she could concentrate on her P.I. business and keeping herself safe.

  To assuage her guilt for being idle, Madeline took a dress off the hanger and slipped it over her head. She really did need something to wear Friday night. But as she regarded herself in the mirror, images flashed across her mind’s eye, images of the black Suburban careening around the corner, Lionel Usherwood at the wheel.

  Her hands became so clammy, as another flash of memory blinded her, she couldn’t draw the zipper up. She dropped her arms and was transported back to the moment when she realized Usherwood had spotted her. She gasped at the recollection of running through oncoming traffic, Rick Yeoman and Lance Rombach bearing down on her from both sides, the overpowering smell of chloroform…

  Madeline heard the soft rustling of footsteps on the carpet. She shifted away from the door, arms reflexively moving into a position of defense or attack. She steadied her breathing to slow the pounding of her heart.

  “Madeline, are you in there?” Madeline went limp as she recognized Lauren’s whisper. She opened the door a crack. Catching her boss in the middle of undressing made her assistant blush.

  “Oops, sorry—” Lauren said. “Umm…Mike had me track you down.”

  “Is something wrong?” Madeline demanded.

  “No…um…no.” Lauren shook her head, but the way she regarded Madeline gave her away. “He got worried when you didn’t answer your phone.” Madeline let out a strained sigh and motioned her into the dressing room.

  “That’s cute. Are you thinking of wearing it to the Oscars?”

  “I wish you’d stop calling it that,” Madeline said, turning her back toward Lauren so she could zip the dress for her.

  “That’s beautiful, and you can wear it again.”

  Madeline nodded absentmindedly. “Tell Mike not to worry. The good thing about the next ten days is that I’ll scarcely have a moment alone.” Madeline motioned for Lauren to undo the zipper. She shimmied out of that dress and into the next one.

  “Oh, that one looks great on you, too,” Lauren said, easily caught up in the joy of clothes shopping, even if it wasn’t for herself. “I think you should get that one.”

  “Instead of the first one?” Madeline held it up next to her for comparison.

  “Get both,” Lauren said pragmatically. “You’ve got three days at the Alexanders’ and the Campbell wedding…”

  “Which reminds me,” Madeline said, as she slipped into her own dress. “I need to be at the Riviera Hotel in fifteen minutes.” She dug her credit card out of her purse and thrust it at Lauren. “Take care of this for me. And pick out something for yourself. You’ll be on duty with me, in case this thing starts unraveling at the seams.”

  “Thanks,” Lauren said, her expression both surprised and dreamy.

  “But don’t make an event out of it. I need you back at the office in case the Campbells have any questions I can’t answer.” Like a shot, Madeline was gone leaving Lauren alone in Wonderland with someone else’s credit card.

  Madeline stood next to the pond at the Rivera Hotel, her eyes transfixed, but blind to the soundless passing of the multi-colored fish. Instead of the submerged foliage and flashes of orange, red and white, she saw the body of Burt Latham as she imagined it looked when it washed up on Hendry’s Beach three years earlier.

  She closed her eyes to dispel the vision. When she opened them again, the sodden corpse of Rick Yeoman undulated below the surface as a koi swam past. This time Madeline couldn’t tear herself away from the sight of one of her captors, slain by one of his own. She visualized the exit wound through his forehead and had to wonder if she’d meet the same fate.

  She gasped at the thought and pulled herself away from the rectangular pond, just as her clients walked up the brick pathway. She quickly shook off her morbid musings and shifted into event planner mode. She would let her sense of duty keep her mind off stone-cold killers who lusted for revenge as a substitute for leading a meaningful life.

  Besides, she couldn’t afford any missteps on this wedding or the Alexander party; if everything didn’t come off seamlessly, her reputation and self-esteem would suffer. She exuded confidence and control as she greeted the Campbells and flipped open her iPad.

  Madeline dropped the bed skirt and got up off her knees. After searching every probable and improbable spot in Vivian’s bedroom, sitting room and bathroom—including all her drawers and every pocket and nook in her closets—Madeline was convinced the jewels were not there. She didn’t dare try to examine the contents of the safe, so she’d just have to take Vivian’s word that she had double checked it.

  “It was worth a try,” Vivian said glumly.

  “I was really hoping they were still here,” Madeline said, as she sat down on the bed next to her new client. Her gaze wandered around the bedroom as her mind turned over possible scenarios, all of them unpleasant.

  “Something has been nagging at me,” she thought out loud, as she turned to face Vivian.

  “What is it?”

  “What you said about heirs appropriating their inheritance in advance.” Madeline chose her next words carefully. “Do you think it’s possible Cherie could have taken your jewelry?” Vivian recoiled at the suggestion. “Maybe out of a sense of entitlement…or maybe out of spite?”

  “No,” Vivian said, shaking her head. “I don’t think she’s really focused on my old stuff. It’s not really her style, as you know. It’s Ross who keeps tabs on that kind of thing. That sounds awful, but it has as much to do with the sentimental value as their intrinsic worth, as those articles are connected to both of his parents. Plus, he has two daughters—my granddaughters—to think of.”

  “I see. Well, I just had to ask,” Madeline said. It was a huge relief to not have to put Cherie at the top of the list of potential suspects.

  “But since you mentioned it, there is a bracelet I keep in the safe that Cherie is rather taken with. It’s diamonds and sapphires in an art deco style. It has stood the test of time and is still as chic as it was sixty years ago. I’m planning on giving it to her as a birthday present, as a matter of fact. I happen to know the value of that piece because I had it appraised when I had it cleaned. Would you believe the jeweler valued it at $47,000?”

  Madeline nearly choked on the figure. Hopefully that hadn’t gone missing too.

  “Don’t worry—I put it in the safe with my own hands as soon as I got it back,” Vivian told her.

  “I’m sure Cherie will be very touched by your gift.”

  Vivian gave Madeline a wan smile. “I would like to think so, but it’s kind of hard to compete with the crowd she runs with.”

  Madeline changed the subject to avoid commenting. “Speaking of birthdays and gifts, I guess I need to check in with the honoree before I go see Helen. If I don’t, I’m afraid she’ll track me down. But first I need you to sign the contract for hire and this, which gives me the authorization to run a full factual credit report on Teresa.” Madeline laid the documents on Vivian’s dressing table along with a pen.

  Vivian took the time to read every word she was agreeing to, which both impressed Madeline and made her anxious. She had been to the house twice today without checking in personally with Cherie. She had excellent reasons for avoiding her, but Cherie was her big meal ticket. Also her biggest headache.

  Vivian signed the authorization form and handed the pen back to Madeline. Madeline hastily made sure everything was in order before stashing it in her file folder.

  “As soon as I get what I need from Helen, I’ll do a background ch
eck on Teresa. I’ll call your cell phone as soon as I have something.”

  “Thank you, dear. You can’t imagine how much better I feel just being able to share this with someone.”

  “I think I have a good idea, and I think you’ll feel a lot better once we know more about your companion and hopefully eliminate her as a suspect.”

  “From your lips to God’s ear,” Vivian said, walking with Madeline to the door.

  “There you are! I’ve been all over this damn place looking for you!” Cherie cried as Madeline stepped out into the hallway, directly in Cherie’s path. Madeline couldn’t decide what was more alarming—her employer finding her exiting a clandestine meeting or what she was wearing. Fortunately, Vivian came to her rescue.

  “It’s my fault, Cherie. I availed myself of Madeline’s innate fashion savvy.” Cherie glared at her mother-in-law uncomprehendingly. “She was helping me pick out what to wear this weekend.”

  “Oh. Well, I could’ve helped you with that,” Cherie countered, clearly taking offense. Both Madeline and Vivian tried to smooth her ruffled feathers in unison.

  “I know how busy you are dear…”

  “I figured it was one less thing you needed on your plate,” Madeline said.

  “What about your plate? Don’t you have enough to deal with? I mean, I’ve been running all over trying to find you…”

  Madeline’s brow arched as Cherie’s petulance rose. After a year of putting up with an escalating attitude of checkbook authority, Madeline had become deft at walking Cherie back a few paces without even saying a word. But this time Cherie had an audience; she had two choices here—throw her weight around or have a breakdown. She chose the latter.

  “Cherie, don’t cry,” Madeline said, giving Vivian a surreptitious glance of solidarity before shepherding Cherie toward her rooms on the other side of the expansive house. “What’s going on?” she asked in her most patient voice. Cherie sniffed back the tears and carefully ran her fingers under her eyes to keep her makeup intact.

  “Ross won’t be back until Friday!” she wailed, though it was clear she was less upset now that she had Madeline’s full attention.

  “I know. I heard this morning when I dropped off the ID bracelets from Tiffany’s. Did you see them…?”

  Madeline felt herself detach from the scene, going through the motions she could affect by rote. There were so many real worries to spend her mental energy on. For the umpteenth time, she reminded herself that this whole embarrassing, degrading and useless event would be a thing of the past in four more days.

  FIVE

  Madeline knocked on the doorjamb to Helen’s office. The housekeeper was deep in thought in front of her laptop. She jerked to alertness as Madeline edged over the threshold.

  “I’m sorry,” Helen laughed, hand to her chest as she rose from her chair. “My mind is running in a hundred different directions right now.”

  “I can come back another time,” Madeline suggested, though she remained stationary. Vivian’s missing jewelry trumped all the other household matters at the moment, at least in her mind.

  “No, please come in—I could use a break. My eyes are starting to cross,” Helen said with a weak laugh as she sat back down. “What can I help you with?”

  Madeline smiled as she crossed to the chair on the other side of the desk. She had little time to perfect her request, but tact was of the utmost importance. She could see Helen going either way with the bombshell she was about to drop on her.

  Though Madeline was no stranger to dealing with hired help, even on this level, she found Helen Bagley a force to be reckoned with. Madeline had never experienced anything but civility and cooperation from her during this upheaval of her domain, but Madeline knew Helen was a stern taskmaster who expected her orders to be carried out down to the smallest detail. Even Helen’s appearance commanded complete obedience from the staff, while conveying an aura of competence and careful guardianship to her employers and their guests. The running of this house sat directly on her broad shoulders, and from what Ross had told her, she had never disappointed him. She had been with him for twenty years, surviving his two divorces and his four-year marriage to Cherie. There was no doubt where her loyalty lay, which was why Madeline had to slant the news she was about to deliver with Ross’s best interest as the highest priority.

  “Can I get you something to drink? A cup of coffee or some mineral water?” Helen asked. Though she was being cordial out of deference, she was sending a subliminal message that this interruption needed to be as brief as possible.

  “No thanks, Helen. I’ll try not to take up any more of your time than necessary. But first I must ask that you not share what I’m about to tell you with anyone for now—including your boss.”

  A look of consternation descended over Helen’s features. “What’s Cherie done this time?”

  “This has nothing to do with her. It concerns Vivian.” Madeline watched her reaction carefully as she delivered the bad news. “Some of her jewelry has gone missing. Three very expensive pieces, to be exact.”

  Helen flinched as the words registered. Madeline saw the questions forming in her mind as clearly as if they were written on her face. Madeline decided to save her the trouble of asking them.

  “They are particular favorites of Ms. Story’s—a diamond and ruby brooch, an emerald ring, and a diamond and ruby bracelet—all circa 1950, all given to her by her late husband. She kept them in a Limoges box on her dressing table instead of the safe. I think she derived a certain comfort from being able to look at them. They went missing a week ago.”

  “I see,” Helen said, as she sat back, her posture rigid. “And why did she decide to bring this to your attention instead of mine?” Her tone wasn’t exactly hostile, but it was definitely sharp.

  “She has enlisted my services as a private investigator,” Madeline replied, as she withdrew a new business card from her wallet and handed it across the desk. This news threw the housekeeper off-guard.

  “She hired me because I know her and her family and have the benefit of knowing what’s been happening around here the last several months.”

  “Twelve, to be exact,” Helen said flatly.

  “Yes. It’s been a long haul, and I really appreciate the way you and your staff have bent over backwards to accommodate these rather extraordinary preparations. What nobody wants to deal with right now is a theft inside the home. Which is why Vivian wanted to pursue this matter privately, rather than involving her son or you or the police, at least for the time being.”

  Helen let out an exasperated sigh as she studied Madeline’s face.

  “But here you are,” she challenged. “Does that mean you’ve hit a dead end already?”

  “I just accepted this case a few hours ago, and after first searching Vivian’s rooms with her, I convinced her it would be more expeditious if I could get certain information from you first.”

  “What is it you want to know?”

  This was where Madeline had to tread very carefully. She knew Teresa was a hot button issue for Helen, as she did not personally hire the girl. Therefore, she hadn’t had the chance to imprint her standards of conduct on the girl. Yet she was Vivian’s companion, a very important position, as no one else in the household had time to spend doting on an elderly woman.

  “Specifically, I’d like to see Teresa Gomez’s W-4.” Helen eyed Madeline coolly before swiveling her chair around and bending to retrieve a file folder from the credenza. The fact that she said nothing about Madeline’s sole request spoke volumes. There was no need for her to speak ill of someone who was brought into this house without her approval; that Teresa was the only one singled out for scrutiny saved her the trouble.

  The housekeeper placed the file on her desk and flipped through the paperwork until she found the pages she was looking for. She glanced at the information before handing it over to
Madeline.

  “Thank you,” Madeline said. She quickly looked it over. Name, address and Social Security number were all there. Simple as pie. The second page was a worksheet for figuring deductions. She was not surprised that it was left blank. She reached for her iPhone and took a scan of the document so she could print out a copy later.

  “Anything else I can do to help?” Helen asked with a pleasantness that was clearly forced.

  “Can you give me a list of any tradespeople who have been in the house during the last two weeks?”

  “Surely you know better than I do who’s been traipsing around here,” Helen said coldly.

  “I’m referring specifically to anyone who has been inside the house. Everyone employed to ready the grounds for the party has been given strict instructions to stay out of the main house. If you know of anyone who’s breached that protocol, it’s very important I know who it was.”

  Helen sighed deeply and massaged her temples. She let out another put upon sigh before consulting her computer screen.

  “On April 10th, we had Spotless Upholstery Cleaning here. There were four guys. They worked in pairs. They cleaned all the upholstered furniture in the downstairs rooms, including the theater seats.”

  “Nothing upstairs?” Madeline confirmed.

  “No. But that’s not to say one of them didn’t sneak off to do a little pilfering. I certainly didn’t have time to stand sentry over them.” Madeline met the wave of bad vibes exuding from the disgruntled housekeeper with aplomb. It would be hard to get back into Helen’s good graces at this point, but she had to keep their dealings as civil as possible.

  “How about security cameras?” Madeline had made note of several on the premises.

  “There aren’t any upstairs.”

  “Are there cameras on both flights of stairs?”

  “Yes,” Helen confirmed grudgingly.

  “When you shut the house for the night, do you personally activate the alarm system?”