Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 01 - Spouse Trap (18 page)

THIRTY-TWO

“I’m sorry, this line is for first class travelers only,” the woman at the check-in counter said, handing her ticket back. “You’ll need to get in line behind those folks,” she said, already motioning for the next person. Being a little slow on the uptake, Madeline started to protest. But as she checked her ticket, she discovered Steven’s latest slap in the face. She flipped to the second page of the ticket and found more bad news: the second leg of the trip would also be spent in the back cabin. She should’ve known.

She lowered her sunglasses and dragged her bags to the end of the general check-in line. Her head throbbed dully, thanks to having drunk three-quarters of a bottle of Chianti. She shuddered at the thought of drinking with such abandon. It felt good going down, but now she felt like one of the sorry patrons Mike ministered to on Tuesday nights.

She felt even worse as she remembered blubbering like an idiot as Mike undressed her and got her into bed. What a pathetic mess she was. She hardly recognized herself anymore. But that was the rub: Madeline Ridley had ceased to exist. In a mere three months it would be legal and final. She had to consciously define who she would become next. As it stood now, she was an almost unmarried, unemployed forty-year-old, homeless and without prospects.
How did I get here?
she asked herself again. As usual, there was no answer.

As she inched her way toward the front of the line, her wine-soaked brain started sending her alerts, which registered like unwanted emails in her mental inbox. Chief among her worries was the fact that she still hadn’t called her father. She couldn’t figure out how to break the news to him about her sudden divorce without giving him any of the sordid details. She toyed with taking the cowardly way out by emailing him her new phone number, but she was afraid that would prompt a call from him.

Yet, if she waited any longer, he might call the house—or worse, Steven—and find out the truth the hard way. She’d have to work up the courage soon before she got to Guam or the time difference would make it impossible to reach him. She glanced at her watch: the plane would board in forty-five minutes.

As she maneuvered her bags another two feet, she regretted not taking Mike’s advice. If she didn’t have a bag to check, she could’ve headed through security and gone straight to the gate. Instead, she was stuck with a second bag with almost nothing useful in it. She nearly laughed out loud as she thought of what all she had chosen to drag to Guam—a weird collection of high-end footwear, sweat pants, t-shirts and cashmere sweaters. Not exactly the right apparel for the tropics.

As she cast her mind back, she recalled that she was also carrying a fair amount of her good jewelry—not a smart move—plus a few impractical articles of clothing still wrapped in tissue paper that she had purchased at Saks during her final shopping spree. She should’ve returned it all and pocketed the cash. At least then she wouldn’t be burdened by the cumbersome load.

Once her bag was checked, she moved with the flow of bodies and filtered through security. By the time she reached the gate, her flight was already boarding. She took her seat in the rear of the plane, right across from the restrooms and a new mother with a squalling infant. She stuffed foam plugs in her ears and fell into a troubled and disorienting sleep. She awoke when the flight attendant told her to bring her seatback forward.

The double latte from the nearest concession in the Honolulu airport soon brought her back to semi-alertness. The second pushed her into hyper-drive. She had two and a half hours before her flight left for Guam. She used the back of her ticket to make a list:

Call Dad

Search hotels in Guam

Call Burt

Look into first class seats for return flights

Buy swimsuit, tunic, shorts, sandals

Kill Steven

She hazarded a glance at her surroundings and scratched the last item off her list. It felt surprisingly good to write those words, but the way her luck was running, they might come back to haunt her.

To keep the caffeine from eating a hole in her stomach, she bought a turkey sandwich and relocated to an empty gate. She rehearsed several dialogs with her father as she ate, but every opener led to the same conclusion. No matter which tack she took, her father was going to hit the roof. She put her sandwich aside and picked up her phone. She had to get this over before she drove herself crazy.

“Hello?”

“Dad, it’s me, Madeline.”

“Madeline! Jesus Christ, where are you? Your sister and I have been frantic trying to figure out what’s going on.” Madeline cringed. The fact that Paula was involved did not bode well for this conversation.

“Dad, I’m sorry you’ve been worried—”

“Worried?
I’ve been out of my mind. I tried your cell phone, but the number’s no longer in service. Your sister called the house, but the housekeeper acted very strange. Told Paula you had moved out. We both left messages for Steven at his office, on his cell phone and at home, but he never returned any of our calls. I was just about to book a flight to Santa Barbara when you called.” Madeline covered eyes, as if that could dispel the visual of her father on the verge of a stroke because of her.

“Dad, I’m alright. Please calm down. I’ll explain everything, but please relax. I don’t want you to have another heart attack.” Mack Dawkins heaved an emotional sigh, making Madeline feel even worse.

“Just tell me what the hell’s going on, would you please?” Madeline took a deep breath and gave it to him straight.

“Steven and I are getting divorced.”

“Oh, for Chrissakes,” Mack said. Madeline could hear the devastation in his voice.

“Daddy, I don’t want you to be upset. Please, don’t be upset. It’s all going to work out for the better. I’ll have to go into it some other time. But for right now you just have to believe that I’m okay and things will work out in the long run.”

“Where are you calling from?” he asked, as an announcement went out over the P.A. system.

“I’m in Honolulu—”

“Honolulu?”

“I’m about to board a plane for Guam—”

“Guam?
Why in God’s name are you going to
Guam?”
he demanded, making Madeline feel like she was back in the sixth grade.

“It’s the most expedient way to get a divorce these days.”

“Oh God,” Mack muttered. Madeline could imagine him casting around the room for something to steady himself.

“In light of the way things ended with Steven and me, it’s really for the best to get this behind us.”

“Why I am only hearing about this now? You never told me there was trouble between you and Steven.”

“I know, Daddy, I know. Like I said, I can’t really go into all the details now, but—”

“Did he cheat on you?” Mack asked angrily. “Is that what the son-of-a-bitch did to cause this?” Madeline hung her head. She knew she wasn’t prepared for this conversation.

“It wasn’t any one thing…”

“Then what’s the big rush to get divorced? Have you gone to counseling? You and Steven have been good together. Not all marriages are a cakewalk, you know. Sometimes you have to step back and take a fresh look at the situation. You’ve invested a lot of years in your marriage…” Madeline held the phone away from her ear. She waited for her father’s ranting to die down before trying to speak.

“Dad, they’re boarding my flight now,” she lied. “I probably won’t be able to reach you until I get back from Guam. But after I get back to Santa Barbara and get settled—”

“Why were you the one who moved out? Why didn’t Steven move out?” Mack snapped.

“Okay, Dad—I really have to go now. I’m sorry for all the anxiety I caused you. Please let Paula know what’s going on and I’ll contact you as soon as I get back.” To add believability to her lie for her own sake, Madeline gathered her stuff and started walking in the general direction of her gate. “I love you, Dad. Bye.” She pressed the end button, not giving her father a chance to reply. Now she really hated herself.

She could feel the onset of bitter tears and headed for the restroom. After she ran cold water over her wrists and got her breathing under control, she scoped out another secluded waiting area. In an effort to refocus herself, she reviewed her list and revised it. This time she underlined the words
Kill Steven
so forcefully, she ripped the paper.

THIRTY-THREE

Madeline dragged her carry-on down the gateway behind her slow-moving fellow passengers. Fortunately for her, the plane was only sixty-percent full and she was able to stretch out over three seats on the flight from Honolulu to A. B. Won Pat International Airport. It was some consolation for being stuck in coach, something she hadn’t experienced since her pre-Steven days.

She could already feel the heat and humidity coming through the cracks between the plane and the ramp, and it was almost 9:00 at night. She felt wilted and jetlagged beyond anything she could remember. It seemed like days since she took off from LAX. She followed the signs through the terminal out to the street where she looked for a shuttle bus to the Westin Hotel.

She had used her spare time in Honolulu to do some research on her destination and figure out where to stay. It showed how ill-prepared she was for this new phase in her life that she had been assuming a room had already been booked for her. It proved she hadn’t fully accepted her fate. In the back of her mind, she had been relying on Steven to handle things like hotel accommodations. For the first time she was glad she’d have a week of isolation so she could retool her mind and start thinking like a single woman again.

It was almost ten o’clock at night by the time Madeline was checked in and taken to her room. Though she couldn’t tell at this hour, she had been given a corner room with full ocean and coastline views. The room itself was clean, spacious and elegantly spare. She stepped out onto the balcony and listened to the crash of the incoming waves. A few voices could be heard, but other than those two sounds, it was starkly quiet.

Her inner clock was at odds with the time zone; she was starving and not ready for sleep. After flipping through the hotel directory, she discovered there was only one place still serving food, a bar called On The Rocks. She could’ve ordered room service, but she’d had enough of being confined to small spaces. She unpacked her bags, washed her face and sorted through her clothing for something semi-appropriate for dining in a hotel bar.

She wasn’t surprised to find the place almost empty on what was now Wednesday night. There were three men sitting at the bar, far enough apart from each other to not be together, but close enough to still converse. Madeline took a seat at a banquette table in a corner. She was deleting emails on her iPhone when the waiter appeared. She ordered a fancy rum cocktail and a couple appetizers and munched on the bar snacks as she continued to search for a message from Burt.

It finally occurred to her to check Burt’s phone for messages. There she found a text he had sent several hours earlier while she was still airborne.
Very good day. Clld 24 of 67 borrowers w/ liens held by RAM L.P. Offered to lower rate as pretext. 4 said they’d paid off loans.

She reread the message, her hand trembling as she reached for her drink. Did this mean what she thought it meant? A surge of adrenalin hit her heart, making it thump erratically.

In her excitement, she had overlooked his second text, which made the message clearer:
Got him. How do u want to proceed? Use as leverage, turn over to law, enlighten borrowers and let them handle it? Advise. B.

She was too stunned to think. Did they finally have the upper hand? From this remote locale, she couldn’t tell if it was just wishful thinking or reality. As the possibility of ending her nightmare started to sink in, she felt like letting loose a victory yell. The waiter appeared with the spring rolls and chicken skewers. She looked at the appetizers as though she didn’t know why he’d brought them to her.

“Would you like another cocktail, Miss?” Madeline stared at her empty glass with amazement.

“Sure,” she replied tentatively. She attempted to pry the chicken from a bamboo stick and soon tired of the effort. She bit into a spring roll, burning her tongue in the process. The waiter brought her second drink, providing her a good remedy for the scorched taste buds.

“Is it possible to get a green salad?” She asked between sips.

“I’ll see what I can do, Miss.”

“And can you please have the kitchen remove the skewers?”

“Yes, Miss.”

She ate the now-cool spring rolls voraciously as she tried to string together the ramifications of what Burt had uncovered. His instincts about Steven’s behavior had been dead-on from the day she hired him. Finding him was her best stroke of luck so far, aside from catching Steven’s payoff to Russell Barnett.

Whether due to relief, booze or jetlag, Madeline suddenly felt utterly exhausted, weary with fatigue down to the soles of her feet. She hardly noticed when the waiter placed a nice green salad and the de-skewered chicken strips in front of her. She forced herself to eat in hopes of synchronizing her inner rhythms to local time.

Using her last bit of cognitive ability, she determined it to be just after 5 a.m. in Santa Barbara. She was eighteen hours ahead of Burt; Wednesday, February 24th was about to end for her and begin for him. She’d give him another twenty-five minutes before sending him a text. Hopefully by then she’d know what to tell him.

After wandering the public areas of the hotel for as long as she could manage, Madeline took a seat in the deserted lobby and composed her message to Burt.

Great news! I’m overwhelmed. What do u think is the best plan? Call me.

She sat for another couple minutes willing Burt’s response to show up on his phone. Figuring he had the sense to turn off his sounds, she headed to the elevator and rode up to the seventh floor, his phone in her hand.

Once in her room, she undressed quickly and placed the phone on the bathroom counter while she brushed the endless day off her teeth. She wanted to shower, but lack of strength and fear of missing Burt’s call made her postpone it till the morning. She managed a few sloppy stretches before giving in to her dire need for sleep. Her eyes closed the second she laid her head on the pillow.

Five minutes later, Burt’s phone rang, startling her out of her travel-weary senses. In her confusion, she almost knocked the lamp off the table while grabbing the wrong phone. By the time she realized her mistake, the call had gone to voicemail. She frantically called him back.

“Hello?” she croaked as Burt answered. “Sorry. I guess I fell asleep.”

“I’m not surprised. This time difference is going to be a challenge, isn’t it?” Burt said. He sounded surprisingly jovial given the earliness of the hour.

“Yes, it is,” Madeline said, forcing herself into a sitting position, hoping it would stimulate brain activity.

“Since you sound like you just swam all the way to Guam, I’ll try to do most of the talking.” Madeline let out a snort that was meant to be a laugh. “I’m assuming you understood my messages…?”

“Yes,” she said, blinking hard as she turned on the lamp.

“Good. Well, my instincts were right. But to be honest, I didn’t think finding the proof would be so easy. I guess it goes to Steven’s perceived credibility that so many people would take him at his word. Now we know for a fact Steven is in it up to his neck. And I’m not even halfway through the list yet. For all we know, he’s been doing this for years, the only difference being he was able to replace the funds and reconvey the notes before anyone got wise. But unless he can move heaven and earth simultaneously, I don’t think he’s going to be so lucky this time.”

“What do you think we should do now that we have proof of what’s going on?”

“Well, first we need to develop this ‘proof,’ which means I’ll have to confirm their claims. I can approach it a couple of different ways. I can either call them back and continue the pretext, saying the most current data still shows the lien on their property, or I can say I’m investigating fraud charges against the company that made the loan. I can advise them to contact the district attorney immediately, or I can meet with them, get their statements for the D.A. myself. Or send them to Steven’s investors.

“So you see, there are a number of ways to finesse this situation. But since our assumption has been that you were quickly disposed of in order to secure bailout money, I think we need to move fast on this, before Steven can reconvey those notes and put the monies back into his investors’ coffers. Are you following me?”

“Yes,” Madeline said, wide awake now.

“One thing I forgot to mention—my Boston contact informed me that Mrs. Collins-Wainwright left from Logan Airport yesterday morning on a private jet. I was able to confirm the jet landed in Santa Barbara at 2 p.m. yesterday.”

“She’s already there?” A horrible feeling came over Madeline as she imagined Steven’s new victim presiding over her home. Even though she had suspected as much a few days ago, Steven’s capacity for subterfuge was truly shocking. It was as though he had no conscience at all. He had to be a true sociopath. How had she missed that side of him? She was afraid it didn’t speak very well of her.

“That’s correct. My source at SBA confirmed the jet’s arrival,” Burt said. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for any news of her whereabouts. But in the meantime, I need you to tell me which course of action to take. I realize you’re dead tired—why don’t you sleep on it. I’ll continue to plow through my list, then we’ll have all our ammo ready.”

Madeline tried to imagine actually sleeping with her mind so full of quandaries. “What’s the cleanest, most reliable way to make all this stick?” she asked. Burt thought this over.

“I’m not sure that hybrid exists. The cleanest way to drop the dime on Steven is to set the borrowers after him. That way there’s nothing to link you or me to his exposure. But the most reliable way to make sure he doesn’t wiggle out of it somehow would be turning the evidence over to the D.A.’s office. The downside to that scenario is getting our fingerprints all over it. You see what I’m saying?”

“I think so. If you subtly tip off the victims, they may go straight to Steven, who would then come up with some cock ’n bull story and make it all right. Then the evidence goes away and we’d have nothing to pin on him.”

“Exactly.”

“So, it’s better if we gather the statements and turn them over to the D.A.”

“It’s the best way to make sure Steven doesn’t sidestep the charges.” Madeline let out a deep sigh, her eyes wandering heavenward, as if the answer were written on the ceiling.

“And you want me to make that call.”

“It’s got to be your decision,” Burt said.

“But doesn’t that potentially put you in a dangerous position?”

“And possibly you. I’ve been in worse, so don’t worry about me,” Burt replied with a sanguine laugh. “You hired me to get the goods on Steven. That’s what I’m prepared to do.”

“I hired you to find out who was behind the photos,” she corrected him.

“Yeah, but that’s how these investigations go sometimes. If we’ve got a criminal and we can’t get him on one crime, then we get him on anything we can.”

“If you’re okay with the risk, so am I.”

“Okay, that’s the plan then. I’ll call the four I contacted today, let them know I’m investigating fraud and embezzlement charges and take their statements. I’m anxious to get through the remaining borrowers. I find it hard to believe I lucked out and found all the victims already. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Thanks, Burt. I’m so glad to have you for an ally. I can’t imagine what this last week would’ve been like without you.”

“Fortunately, you don’t even need to think about it. Now get some sleep. You’ve got to go see the attorney tomorrow, right?”

“Oh God, yes—thanks for reminding me! Oh, I’m so thrashed, I forgot about that,” Madeline said with a groan.

“Hey, from what I saw online, it looks like you’ve landed in paradise. Get your divorce business settled and then work on your tan. You’ll be the envy of all your friends when you get back.”

“Ha! What friends?” Madeline rasped. “After the multiple scandals hit the airwaves, I’ll have to go into permanent hiding. I might have to stay on Guam indefinitely.”