Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 01 - Spouse Trap (28 page)

FIFTY-THREE

Madeline crossed behind a passing car in the middle of Figueroa Street. Now that she had abandoned her first plan, she began to see the likely obstacles of her new tactic. For one thing, how would she get into Burt’s office? It would be locked, and if the coroner’s report had come back showing anything but accidental death by drowning, there could be police tape across the door.

It would be too much to hope that Burt had given a spare key to one of his neighbors in the building. Besides, why would they give it to her? Even if the office wasn’t cordoned off, she had left her lock picks in her other bag.

Ha, ha,
Madeline thought drolly as she crossed State Street on a yellow light. Her mind raced ahead, desperately hoping to come up with a plan C. She was within 30 feet of the staircase to Burt’s building when she spotted the “Space Available” sign posted above the mailboxes.

Her heart raced in tandem with her feet as another possibility occurred to her. She needed an office space if she were going to start her event planning business… It was a good pretext, anyway. She got out her iPhone and entered the number on the sign. As she waited for someone to answer, she climbed the stairs to make sure there were no other vacancies in the building. All the other offices were still doing business as usual.

She got a recorded message and hung up as she continued down the hallway. The door to Burt’s office was open and she could make out the low timbre of voices, barely audible over the pounding of blood in her ears. For one split second, Madeline thought the reports of Burt’s death had been a ruse, planted to throw his pursuers off the trail. But as she reached the doorway, that desperate hope vanished.

There were two men in the outer room of Burt’s office, one in his late-sixties and one in his mid-twenties. Both looked her direction as she came to a halt at the threshold. The hallway ended after Burt’s office and the one across from it. She could either execute an about-face or inquire about the office for rent. She chose the latter.

“Excuse me,” she said, stepping one foot into the office as she held onto the door frame, “is this the office advertised on the sign outside?” She smiled hopefully as she used her powers of observation to read the scene in front of her.

“It is,” the older man said. “I’ll be with you in a moment, if you want to wait.”

“Oh, sure,” Madeline said, smiling again as she backed out of the room and away from the door. She stood in the hall, back against the wall as she strained to hear what the two men were talking about. Unfortunately, their voices had dropped and she could only pick up a word here and there. But as they walked closer to the doorway, she got the distinct impression the younger man wasn’t there about the space for lease.

Madeline was putting together another possible scenario as the men crossed the threshold, continuing their conversation just outside the office. She abruptly feigned interest in her cell phone, but not before catching a good look at the younger man. A chill ran down her spine as recognition hit home. There was too strong a resemblance for him not to be Burt’s son.

“Okay, I’ll look into renting a truck,” the young man said. It was clear to Madeline that he was struggling with the added burden of taking care of his father’s affairs on top of dealing with his sudden demise.

“The closest U-Haul is on upper State,” the older man suggested.

“Thanks. I’ll let you know when I’ve gotten everything out.” With that, the men shook hands. The landlord placed his hand on the other’s shoulder, as though he wished to say something else. After a moment’s pause, he patted Burt’s son on the arm. The young man gave him a rueful smile and, with head down, walked passed Madeline, in the direction of the stairs.

“Poor kid,” the landlord said to no one in particular.

“If this is a bad time, I can come back later…” Madeline said. The man cocked his head toward the office as an invitation to enter.

“Max Howard,” he said as Madeline approached the doorway.

“Madeline Dawkins. Nice to meet you.” Mr. Howard extended his arm and Madeline passed into the front office.

“How big a space are you looking for?” the landlord asked.

“Uh…oh, about…500 square feet,” she hedged.

“This is 520. It’s got this reception area, the inner office, a kitchen area and a bathroom.” Madeline nodded appreciatively as she gave herself the tour. The inner office she already knew about; the small kitchen area and the bathroom were a bonus. But what she cared about most were the desks and file cabinets.

“What line of work are you in?” Madeline spun around, wishing she wasn’t dressed like an office staffer.

“Event planning,” she said as she reached into her bag, pretending to look for a business card that didn’t exist. “I think I just gave my last card away.” Max didn’t seem too concerned. “What are you asking?”

“It’s $2.80 a foot. That comes to $1,456 a month.” Madeline arched her brows reflexively.

“Hmm…seems a little steep,” she said as she made a closer inspection of the premises.

“It’s downtown Santa Barbara with a State Street address. Ample public parking in the back. The unit comes with one parking space. Trash and common area cleaning are included. Renter pays utilities,” Max said, arms folded across his chest, his manner pleasant but aloof, as if he could show his rental property in his sleep.

“I take it you’re the owner,” Madeline said. Max nodded.

“Bought it in ’74. I won’t tell you what I paid for it.” Madeline smiled.

“Have you shown it to anyone else?”

“Just hung the sign on my way up.” Madeline went through the pretense of examining the space more thoroughly.

“How long a lease are you offering?” she asked.

“Two year minimum, with three two-year options.” Madeline mulled this over. Her acquired propensity toward extravagance was starting to alarm her. She used to be so careful with money before she met Steven. And all she really wanted was a chance to go through every file in Burt’s drawers.

“Would you be willing to come down to an even $1,400 a month if I paid a year in advance?” Max’s expression barely changed as he considered the offer. But Madeline had seen the brief flicker in his eyes.

“I’m going to need references,” he said.

“No problem.” Madeline reached over the desk she had sat at on her first meeting with Burt and used one of his pens to write down the name and number of her bank manager.

“Charlene will be able to verify my liquid assets on deposit. Now about this furniture…”

“The kid who just left is coming back to get it.”

“Oh…too bad,” Madeline said, her face clouding over. “So that young man was the former tenant?”

“No. His father was. Passed away unexpectedly.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that,” Madeline said, adjusting her tone.

“I’d known Burt Latham for twenty years, before he started renting from me,” Max said, his eyes focused on the window. “The kid hadn’t seen his old man in a couple of years.” Max let out a soft snort. “Anyway, he’s agreed to get all this stuff out of here by Friday.”

“So, the son doesn’t really have any use for the furnishings?” Max shook his head.

“No. He lives up in Seattle. He’s going to try to sell this stuff at a garage sale he’s having this weekend. I don’t envy him having to take care of matters like this. It’s extra difficult because of the rift between them…”

“What if I took the furniture off his hands, save him the trouble of hauling it away? I’ll pay him whatever’s fair. Think he’d be okay with that? It would suit me fine for now. I’m so busy with work right at the moment, I don’t have time to redecorate, and all my stuff is too large for this space.” Madeline gave Max a moment to digest the offer.

“I think he’d be relieved. I’ll give him a call.”

“Great. How soon can I sign the lease?” Madeline asked, checkbook in hand. Max smiled slyly as he sized her up.

“What’s the name of your company?” he asked, settling into a semi-relaxed stance, arms crossed, feet apart, head slightly cocked. Madeline didn’t miss a beat.

“Current Affairs, Event Planning,” she said matter-of-factly. Max nodded his approval.

“Like the name. Can’t say I’ve heard of it, though. How long have you been in business?”

“Oh, I’ve been doing this for years,” Madeline said with a weary wave of her hand. “I’ve done everything from intimate dinners to parties of 800 guests.” Because she was telling the truth about that, she didn’t seem to set off Max’s bullshit detector. “So, if it’s available now, I’d like to take it over right away,” she said, all business.

“The rent was paid through tomorrow, but I guess that doesn’t matter at this point.”

“Great,” Madeline said as she took another look around. “I can get new business cards ordered and have the computer and phone systems set up without missing a beat. I’m ready to make it official, if you are.”

FIFTY-FOUR

Max Howard ran his small real estate empire from a building two blocks further down State Street. Madeline wrote him a check for $16,800 and Max filled out the lease. Madeline managed to drop enough big names to cool her new landlord’s desire for other references. Charlene had verified that Ms. Dawkins had “deposits in the mid-six figures,” which seemed to allay Max’s fear that she might be a deadbeat.

After signing the rental agreement, Max gave Madeline a set of keys, one to open the gate leading to the stairwell that was locked after 6 p.m., and one for the office itself. Burt’s son was relieved that he didn’t have to deal with clearing out his dad’s furniture, so Madeline was welcome to take possession immediately, which she did as soon as she left Max’s office.

Her mind was seething with all sorts of mixed emotions as she walked down the hallway to her new office.
Oh, brother—what have I done this time?
she asked herself as she placed the key in the lock, triggering a new concern. It was 5:00 and probably too late to get a locksmith to come change the locks. That would be top on her agenda tomorrow.

As soon as she entered the office, locking the door behind her, the alarm she’d set as a reminder to call Mike went off, startling her.
Just what I don’t want to deal with right now,
she thought, as she canceled the alarm and began her search for the evidence Burt had hidden “somewhere safe.”

She got her first hint of the obstacles she faced when every drawer in the first file cabinet refused to open. They were all secured by a single lock at the top. She tried the other cabinet in the far corner of the inner office. Same problem.

She cursed herself for being so stupid as she tried the desk drawers. She stood back, exasperated by this oversight. Not ready to give up yet, she went back to the front office and tried the center drawer. It opened, exposing pens, paper clips, rubber bands and the like. She felt all around, underneath the top and under the bottom of the drawer. No keys.

She tried the side drawers. None were locked, but none contained a secret cache of keys. There were a few files and a couple of manila envelopes, which made her heart skip a beat. But none contained anything pertinent to her case. She got down on the floor and peered at the underside of the desk. Nothing.

After calling herself many well deserved names, she grabbed her phone and did an online search for locksmiths. She found a company that advertised emergency night and weekend service. She placed the call and got a dispatcher. Madeline explained her situation; a locksmith would be at her place of business within 30 minutes. She was told he would need to see her lease agreement before he could change the locks. Fortunately, Madeline just happened to have one.

While waiting for the guy to show up, the only productive thing she could do was call Mike. As she listened to the ringing on the other end, she had to wonder if talking to him would be more counter-productive than productive.

“Hey! I was wondering when I was going to hear from you,” Mike said excitedly. “Are you on your way to the airport?” For one confused moment, Madeline didn’t know what he was talking about. She’d been up too long and traveled too far, and now time had completely warped for her.

“You’re coming home tonight, today—whatever it is where you are. It’s Thursday morning where you are, right…?” Madeline tried to work the time back six hours and add a day, using her cheater’s method of time conversion. But something didn’t add up right. It took her a few seconds to figure out Mike had the days mixed up. She decided it was easier to just give up the charade.

“Actually…I’m not in Guam anymore,” she confessed.

“Did you get an earlier flight out? That’s great news. What time do you land?”

“I’m already here.”

“Oh…wow…okay, um, it’s going to take me at least an hour to get there at this time of day. I wish I’d known…”

“Mike, I’m already in Santa Barbara.”

“What? Did I screw up?” he asked, his voice teetering on frantic.

“No. I left Guam two days early.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t safe for me to stay there any longer. My room at the Westin was bugged, and so was my computer.”

“Bugged?
How did you find out?” Madeline sighed.

“It’s a long story,” she said dismissively.

“So, what…you found out you were being spied on, so you ran to the airport and jumped on the first flight out?” Madeline hated to admit her rash behavior.

“No, yeah…sort of…”

“Why the hell didn’t you come here?” Mike asked, his indignation flaring. Madeline regretted making the call. “When did you get there? Where are you staying? Jesus Christ, Maddie—if you’re afraid of Steven’s militia, you shouldn’t be up there by yourself.” Madeline tried to get a word in edgewise, but it was no use.

“What makes you think you’re any safer up there in Steven’s territory? You could’ve walked right back into a hornet’s nest.”

“Mike, Mike—don’t get yourself all worked up. I’m fine. The whole point of leaving Guam two days early was to give Steven the shake.”

“You left two days early? Isn’t that going to violate your divorce agreement?” That was a question Madeline didn’t want to spend much time thinking about.

“Part of the reason I returned early was to do some sleuthing on my own, see if I can find out where Burt hid the signed statements from the swindled borrowers.” Mike let out a heavy sigh that conveyed exactly how asinine he thought her idea was.

“I’m coming up there,” he said, the shift in background sounds giving weight to his threat.

“No you’re not, Mike. I don’t want you up here right now. I’ve got too much to deal with and I don’t want to worry about you getting hurt too.”

“What? You’re up there by yourself playing cat and mouse with men you suspect of killing your P.I., and you’re worried about
me?
That’s ridiculous. Where are you staying?”

“I’m not going to tell you, Mike. I’m safe and I’m not worried. I’m flying under their radar right now. I faked a call to you from the room at the Westin suggesting I was thinking of staying with you for a few days when I got back. I rigged it so whoever has been keeping tabs on me will think I’m still safely under observation. Look, I know you’re worried, but I’m not. Oh, hang on a second… Mike, I’ve got to call you back…I’ve got someone here helping me with something. I’ll call you later.”

“Madeline—” She ended the call, the mental image of Mike hurling the phone across the room making her wince.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” she said to the locksmith. “I just moved in and I would like some locks changed and maybe a deadbolt added…”