“Why didn’t you go to the police?” Burt asked. The frankness of the question startled her. She was momentarily at a loss for an answer.
“Oh…wow…I don’t…I didn’t…I had no idea what had happened. I was pretty sure that I hadn’t ripped my own lingerie and put these scratches on my neck,” she said, pulling back her sweater for Burt to see. “But I didn’t know what had happened. Like I said, I had a splitting headache, and I was so disoriented.” She looked down at her hands while she tried to rationalize her actions.
“I guess I was afraid I had done something terrible,” she said, her lip trembling again. “I didn’t know what else to do. I was frightened and in shock. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Nothing. I was puzzled by Steven’s behavior, but I wasn’t trying to retaliate or anything. I was just co-chairing an event, like I’ve done dozens of times. I wouldn’t pick up some guy and have sex with him, right there in the same hotel where everyone who works there would see me. It wouldn’t ever enter my mind to do something like that…” she sputtered. Burt held up his hands to stem the flow of words.
“I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything like that,” he said soothingly. “I was trying to get a better sense of what your mindset was the morning you found yourself in that hotel room.” Madeline took in shallow breaths as she tried to get her emotions under control.
“I’m sorry…” she said, taking another sip of water with a trembling hand.
“It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m trying to get you to paint as clear a picture as possible so I’ll know where I should concentrate my efforts. Are you alright?” Madeline nodded. “Okay, let me ask you this—why do you think someone would do this to you?”
“When I first saw the photos, I suspected someone was trying to get at Steven, discredit or blackmail him. Actually, it was something he said while railing at me, how if the existence of those pictures ever got out, it would irreparably damage his reputation.”
“That’s what he was most concerned about?” Burt asked skeptically.
“Not at first. No, Steven’s greatest fear has always been infidelity. His first wife cheated on him and he never got over the pain of it. When we first started getting serious, it was very hard for him to put his trust in someone that way again. He was so wary about having the same thing happen to him again, he made me sign a prenup with an infidelity clause.” Burt stiffened at hearing this.
“Yeah, I know,” Madeline said with a humorless laugh. “It’s taken me a little while to put the pieces together, but after Steven left the house yesterday morning, all I could think about was his emotional anguish and trying to find a way to convince him that I hadn’t knowingly been unfaithful to him. I was totally blindsided by seeing the photos, even though I knew something awful had happened to me at The Edgecliff. I really couldn’t believe I’d had sex with another man…I just couldn’t bear to let my mind go there. But after going over everything in my head, all I could think about was trying to save my marriage.
“Around one o’clock, I drove to Steven’s office downtown. I wanted a chance to talk to him, to tell him about what had happened after he left the fundraiser. But before I could get out of the car, I saw him on the sidewalk outside his building, handing an envelope to a man I didn’t recognize. The exchange was brief, and as I watched the man head up the street, I got this sudden impulse to follow him. He led me straight to his office in the 1300 block of Anacapa. The name on the window read ‘Russell Barnett, Private Investigator.’” Before Madeline could disclose the identity of the man she had followed, Burt’s countenance hardened with recognition.
“I take it you know this person,” Madeline said, watching his reaction carefully.
“It’s a small town, especially in my line of work.” Burt got up and went to stare out the window that gave view to the parking lot behind the building. Madeline took this opportunity to rack her brain for any detail she might’ve overlooked.
“Did you go speak to your husband after following Barnett?”
“No. I was too shaken. I couldn’t think of any innocent reason for Steven to be paying off a private investigator. He’s got an in-house security team, and the only explanation I could think of for needing outside help was if Steven were trying to do something on the sly. That, coupled with the photos, made me very suspicious of his motives.”
“Do you think Barnett saw you?”
“No,” Madeline said emphatically. “I stayed well behind him and hid once he entered his office. Besides, he’s been tailing me all morning, so he probably doesn’t know his cover’s been blown.” Burt swung away from the window.
“Did he follow you to this building?”
“No, I valet parked behind Saks. He didn’t follow me into the store, so I slipped out the front entrance unseen and ducked into this building.”
“Both times?” Burt grilled her. The question made Madeline blanch. She had been in such a rush, she hadn’t thought to scan the street when leaving Saks the second time.
“What did you do from the time you left the note until the time you returned?
“I went back into Saks, the way I left.”
“You were there the whole time?”
“Yes. I indulged in some revenge shopping,” Madeline admitted. Burt grunted his approval as he retook his seat.
“Steven’s having you trailed while he’s gone so that he can figure out what your plan is.”
“My plan?”
“He told you he wanted a divorce and said you had to be out of the house when he gets back on Saturday. In the three days that he’s away, his stooge will report back to him every move you make so Steven will know if you plan to hire some hotshot attorney to break the prenup. That’s probably his biggest worry right now.” Burt stared off into space while he pieced the probable scenario together.
“He’s most likely banking on you being too humiliated to show the photos to anyone. And, as far as your memory is concerned, you don’t know if you willingly engaged in sex with that man or not.” Madeline’s hand flew to her mouth as another cold truth about her husband’s scheme hit home. “So, after you followed Barnett, what did you do?”
“I went back home.”
“Did you speak to anyone?”
“Only our housekeeper, and only when she came to tell me Steven wouldn’t be home for dinner last night.”
“Did you see him before he left for the airport?”
“Yes, I was still up when he came home last night. He’d had our butler pack his bag and put his things in one of the guestrooms. My first reaction was to turn out my lights and pretend I was asleep. But then…I don’t know… I started thinking defensively after witnessing the payoff, so I decided the most convincing thing for me to do was to act remorseful and try to make him think I’d do anything to save our marriage.”
“What was his reaction?”
“He was very cold. He’s playing the wounded spouse to the hilt.” Burt sat back as he considered the situation.
“What do you want me to do for you, Mrs. Ridley?”
“I’d like you to find out who took those photos of me—who paid for them, who set me up to be humiliated…and…” Madeline dropped her gaze. “I want to know for sure if Steven is behind all this. I guess from your point of view it seems pretty cut and dried. He’s probably trying to divorce me without having to pay me a nickel. But I’d like to know that for sure. Until I have solid proof, I’ll find it difficult to believe he’s really capable of something like this.” Burt nodded slowly as he followed her logic.
“I did a little research while I was waiting for you to return,” he said, picking up his phone. “You and your husband are quite the power couple.” He handed his cell phone to Madeline so she could see the picture of her and Steven as they entered The Edgecliff Saturday night. The sight of them togeth
er, arm and arm, her in the red Valentino gown, made her feel physically ill. She thrust the phone back at Burt.
“From what I was able to glean from a few minutes of searching is that your husband is the founder and CEO of RAM L.P., which as far as I can tell is some private equity management company. Is that correct?
“Yes, that’s right. Ridley Asset Management.”
“What does his company do exactly?” Madeline gazed at him wryly. It struck her that being semi-oblivious to Steven’s business put her at a disadvantage in their new adversarial roles.
“He finds private investors to fund a variety of ventures. He has a stable of wealthy clients looking for a good rate of return on their capital. Steven acts as sort of a middleman between people who have money and people who need it.”
“What kind of needy people are we talking about?”
“People looking for loans on property or for startup companies, or to produce a film—it could be anything, really. Steven’s company is set up in three divisions—one deals strictly with real estate, one handles anything to do with intellectual properties—like computer technologies or film making, and one that handles everything that doesn’t fall into those two categories.”
“How long has he been doing this kind of brokering?”
“For about ten years.”
“Prior to that?”
“He oversaw his father’s assets. Sean Ridley died about thirteen years ago, and that’s when Steven got into the private loan business. He did so well with it, pretty soon he had people begging him to do the same for them.” Burt looked up from his note taking.
“Can you make a list of all the participants that you know of?” he asked, pushing a clean pad of paper and pen toward her.
“Sure,” Madeline said tentatively, her mind slow to conjure up the faces she’d been only marginally connected with.
“What do you need them for?” she asked as she jotted down the names of Santa Barbara’s “quiet giants.” Making this list made her feel like she was violating some code of ethics, though she didn’t know why. She had no agreements with these people, and Steven was now her enemy. Still, some of these men were married to friends of hers. It made her resent Steven even more for forcing her into this position.
“I may need to comb through every bit of information I can find about your husband in order to piece together his motives. It could be as simple as you say—he wants a divorce without it costing him anything. One way to find out who drugged and assaulted you would be to have your dress and undergarments tested for DNA.” Madeline grimaced; she had destroyed the evidence herself. Steven might’ve been counting on that too.
“I disposed of the lingerie and the dress has already been dry cleaned.” Burt exhaled out the side of his mouth and crossed out something on his list.
“And it doesn’t sound like a rape kit was performed.” Madeline shook her head.
“Okay, there are other ways of finding out who was involved in this.” Burt tapped his pen on the desk while he thought. “I’m not an attorney, but I do know that prenups can be invalidated if certain conditions exist. If we prove your husband was involved in having you sexually molested, obviously he would be in some serious legal trouble, and you might have grounds for voiding the clause.”
Hearing someone say this out loud had a different effect than ruminating over it herself. As her heart began to thud, she understood why: it was devastating to think someone she loved was capable of doing that to her. Self-preservation had gotten her to this point, but she would need a stronger emotional rampart to survive the fallout of admitting her husband had her raped in order to dispose of her cheaply. Before she could construct a protective armor, tears started trickling down her cheeks. Burt offered her a box of tissues.
“Have you spoken to a divorce attorney yet?”
“No, I’m afraid to contact anyone here. I plan to make some discreet inquiries in the L.A. area. I don’t want Steven to have any idea I know what he’s up to. That’s why I didn’t call you ahead of time—I don’t want to leave a trail for him.”
“If the prenup wasn’t an issue, what do you think you would stand to gain in a divorce settlement?” Madeline dried her tears, grateful for the detective’s dispassionate approach.
“Several million, I would imagine. I know we have a lot of investments, but Steven handles all that. We’ve got a house on Park Lane and a house on Miramar Beach. And an apartment building in San Francisco. Those are the only real estate assets I know of for sure. But he’s involved in several real estate partnerships.”
Burt took a wad of keys from his pocket and unlocked a drawer on his left. He took out a phone and checked the battery life. He then handed it to Madeline, along with a charger.
“This phone will not be traceable back to you.” Madeline studied the phone for a moment before depositing it and the charger in her tote. “And that will be the way I contact you.”
“What is our next step?” she asked.
“Well, we’ve got to discuss my fee. I charge $100 an hour, plus $500 up front for expenses. I can’t give you an estimate at this point because it all depends on the amount of hours I put in. I refund anything left over from the expense funds, but given the complexity of your case, unless we get really lucky, I can see myself spending several days on this assignment. Can you manage that?”
“Yes. I have a separate bank account in my maiden name that my husband is unaware of.”
“Can I make a copy?” Burt asked as he reached for the photographs. Madeline nodded hesitantly. He picked one that wasn’t showing just the man’s back, though Burt doubted he’d have any luck learning his identity with so little to go on. “Don’t worry, I’ll cut you out,” he said, as he put the photo on the copier. “Did you have a professional photographer at the ball?”
“Yes,” Madeline said, instantly realizing the significance of this. “And a videographer. I haven’t had a chance to look through all the photos yet. Damn, I wished I’d thought of that sooner.”
“It’s okay. You really haven’t had much time to react yet.”
“The videographer said we’d have the final cut in a few days. You don’t suppose either of them would be involved in this…”
“You never know until you start digging around. In any event, tell both of them you want to see every frame they took of the event. You’re going to need to go through everything thoroughly, see if you can get a good picture of this guy. That would make it a lot easier to find him. Even if no one else at the fundraiser can identify him, I can have it run through face-recognition databases. If he’s got any kind of record, we’ve got him. Once we have him, we can find out if and how he’s linked up with your husband.” The thought of actually coming face to face with the man in the photos—the man who’d drugged her, undressed her and raped her chilled her to the core.
“In the meantime, I’ll need a physical description of him,” Burt said, pen poised to take notes.
“Oh…okay…I wish I’d paid more attention to him when we were dancing. The truth is I was too preoccupied by Steven’s odd behavior.”
“Just tell me anything you can remember. About how tall would you say he was?”
“We were about the same height, but I was wearing four-inch heels. So, that would make him around 5’11” or six feet.” Burt scrutinized the photo.
“Seems fit,” he surmised. Madeline’s breathing became fast and shallow again. Burt put the photos back in the envelope and slid them across the desk. “Can you think of any other characteristics? The color of his eyes? Any scars?” Madeline tried to focus her mind on that night. She had been only inches from his face, yet she could barely recall anything at all about his features. “Did he remind you of anyone—a friend, a movie star…?”
“Oh gosh… He had dark hair, combed back, I think. He seemed attractive, but it was
more about the way he carried himself than his actual features.”
“So, not the kind of guy who attracts stares from the ladies?”
“No…I’d say he was average good-looking.” Burt laid the pen down.
“What should I do now?” she asked after she digested the possibility of nailing Steven and his accomplices.
“I think you need to pretend everything is just hunky dory in the Ridley household. Do everything you would normally do until Steven gets back.” Madeline let out a strained sigh.
“I don’t think I can face any of my friends right now,” she said, rubbing her neck.
“But you need to. You have access to a valuable source of information that I can’t get to without raising red flags. You need to be visible, that way you can find out details of what happened during your blackout period. The more people you can connect with while your husband’s away, the better.” Madeline remained unconvinced.
“Maybe one of them brought the man to the event. Not that you’ve got much of a description to go on. But also, we can’t completely rule out the possibility that your husband wasn’t involved in this.”
Another wave of anxiety rushed over Madeline, along with a faint glimmer of hope. All she really wanted in her heart of hearts was to have her life back, the way it was before Saturday night. But then doubt nudged this fervent hope out of the picture. Steven’s behavior was too hard to explain away. Plus, even if he hadn’t been involved in having her drugged and raped, she would be damaged goods as far as he was concerned.
“Since you haven’t reported this to the police, I guess I should caution you to get tested for sexually transmitted diseases.” Madeline pursed her lips. It had been bad enough telling the doctor at the clinic in Ventura about her fear of having contracted an STD. Now she felt doubly humiliated. She knew her face was red because she could feel the heat of her fury all over her body.
Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 01 - Spouse Trap Page 5