Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 02 - A High Price to Pay (20 page)

TWENTY-SIX

Helen Bagley held open the door to let Madeline and Mike in. Unlike the numerous times she and Madeline had gone through this very same routine, no pleasantries were exchanged. There was now a keen distrust between the two women that Madeline figured would never be cleared. She had no problem with that scenario, nor did she imagine she’d have to trespass on Helen’s
turf again.

“Mr. Alexander’s is expecting you,” Helen said curtly, leading them down the hallway, past the formal living room and library. She rapped lightly on the door of her employer’s study
and listened.

“Come in,” they heard Ross say through the heavy wooden door. Helen opened it and stood aside to let the
visitors pass.

“Can I get anyone anything?” Helen asked. Madeline and Mike shook their heads.

“No thanks, Helen,” Ross said from his chair by the unlit fireplace, his voice sounding husky and hollow. He was dressed in plaid shirt and khaki chinos, both heavily creased, and butter-soft Italian loafers with no socks. It could’ve been the unkind morning light shining through the window, but Ross’s brown hair seemed grayer than the last time Madeline had seen him. Judging by his attire and the day-old stubble, she figured he hadn’t been to bed yet.

He beckoned them in with a limp wave of his hand. The door closed quietly behind them as they made their way through the large room toward
their host.

“Ross, this is my partner, Mike Delaney.” Mike stepped forward to shake hands as Ross roused himself halfway out of
his chair.

“Our condolences on your loss. Your mother was a truly special woman,”
Madeline said.

“Thank you. Please, have a seat.” They did as instructed and waited expectantly. Ross seemed to have trouble making eye contact with them. The three sat in awkward silence for a long moment, while Madeline tried to think of something appropriate to say.

“I understand you were the one who found her,” Ross said, his voice not much louder than
a whisper.

Madeline cleared her throat nervously before answering. She had met Ross Alexander years ago when she was married to Steven Ridley, and had encountered him a number of times in the past year, but they had hardly become intimates. On those infrequent occasions when he was home during her visits, he was always too involved with his latest film projects for
casual chitchat.

“Yes, that’s true.”

Ross nodded, then his face crumbled with the onset of tears. He hid behind his hand as he cried silently. Mike touched Madeline on the arm, signaling toward the door with his eyes. Madeline shook her head and returned her focus
to Ross.

“I’m sorry,” Ross said, regaining his composure. “I just never expected to lose her this way.” He sniffed and pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and dabbed his eyes. “I had it in my head she’d live until she was ninety-six. That’s what I always said
to her…”

Ross got up and went to stare out the window. Madeline could sense there was something he wanted to discuss with her besides his mother’s death. She was merely a casual acquaintance; he surely had many close friends or confidants he could turn to in this time
of grief.

“She was very proud of you,” Madeline said, hoping it didn’t sound as trite to him as it did to her own ears.

“Thank you,” Ross replied. He took a deep breath and exhaled, hands in his pockets, then turned to face
his visitors.

“How is Cherie doing?” Madeline asked gently.

Ross let out a strained sigh. “She’s sedated.”

Madeline nodded. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

Ross sighed again, his eyes lifting toward the dark wood paneled ceiling. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to pull himself together. “I don’t even know where to begin,” he said as he eased himself back into the chair. Madeline let a few beats pass before coming to
his aid.

“I’ve contacted everyone who was working the party to confirm that it’s been canceled.”

A slight groan escaped Ross, as if the termination of Cherie’s party was small consolation. “Thank you for that,” he said as an afterthought. His gaze wandered for a bit before his thoughts caught up with him. “Has everything been
settled up?”

“Yes.”

“That’
s good.”

“Philippe, the caterer, will speak to Helen about arrangements for
the food.”

“Fine.”

Silence fell over the room again.
Why did he ask to see me?
Madeline wondered. In the interest of time, she decided to lay her cards out. “Are you aware that your mother engaged my services as a private investigator?” The look on Ross’s face confirmed what she had suspected.

“No. Why? When
was this?”

“Three days ago. She approached me because some of her jewels had
gone missing.”

“Which jewels?” Ross asked, his eyes fixed on Madeline’s. She reached into her bag and pulled out the envelope containing the photos Vivian had given her and handed it over. Ross flipped through them quickly, then took another, longer look at each of the three photos of his mother, decades younger and clearly full
of happiness.

“These were her favorites. My father had the daisy brooch made for her,” he said, turning the photo toward Madeline, his voice cracking
with emotion.

“That’s what she told me. She said she didn’t want to keep them locked up in the safe because she enjoyed looking at them so much.” Ross huffed, a smile of recognition curling the corner of his mouth for a moment. But the fond memory quickly faded. He sank back into the chair, doing his best to control his emotions.

Mike and Madeline shifted uncomfortably, wondering if it was time to make their exit. Before they could decide, Ross seemed to snap out of his painful reverie. When he turned to face them, he seemed calmer and more alert. He looked directly at Madeline, as if something she’d said had
belatedly registered.

“I don’t understand—why would my mother hire you to find her jewelry? Aren’t you the
event coordinator?”

“Actually, Mike and I are partners in a private detective agency.” Ross looked even more confused than before. “At the time Cherie hired me to arrange her party, I was still doing my three years of apprenticeship with a local private investigator. Now Mike and I have our own company and I’m phasing out of event planning.”
As of this minute,
Madeline thought
to herself.

“Are the police aware of the robbery?”
Ross asked.

“Yes. I told Detective Slovitch everything
last night.”

“Are you positive the jewels are actually missing?” he asked, his manner
suddenly skeptical.

“I searched every inch of her rooms, with her present. She said she had double checked the safe, just to make sure she hadn’t absentmindedly put
them back.”

“Did
you
check
the safe?”

“No,” Madeline replied. With a purposeful set to his jaw, Ross got up and went over to a large oil painting above an antique sideboard. He swung the painting back on its hinges to reveal three
wall safes.

With his hand poised in front of the keypad on the right, Ross paused and looked upward, as if he were trying to recall the code. He shifted his body to shield his movements and punched in a sequence of numbers. A muffled mechanical sound was heard as the lock released and the door opened.

Ross took out a long box similar to a safety deposit box at a bank. He set it on the sideboard. He took out various jewelry cases and laid them side by side, then methodically searched all of them. When he repeated the process, Madeline knew he hadn’t found Vivian’s special pieces. He stood back, hands on his hips,
clearly upset.

“I take it you didn’t find them,” Madeline said, startling Ross back to
the present.

“No, they’re not here,” he said, turning around to face her and Mike. His hand rested at his chin as he tried to absorb this new element in his mother’s demise. Inspiration flashed in his eyes and he turned back to his mother’s valuables and carefully returned them to the safe.

Without a word to his onlookers, he opened the safe on the far left. He hastily searched through the assorted contents. Unsatisfied, he poured everything out on the sideboard, spreading it all out with a wide sweep of his hand.

“Damn!” he muttered softly. His movements became almost frantic as he dropped everything back in the box haphazardly and returned it to its slot. He repeated the process with the safe in the middle while Madeline and Mike became increasingly more apprehensive. Ross not finding his mother’s favorite jewelry was like losing her all over again.

A ragged sob ripped the silence as he clumsily tried to stuff what appeared to be Cherie’s jewels back in her private box. Frustrated and overcome with heartache, Ross swept everything to the floor.

“This can’t be happening!” he yelled. “This cannot be happening.”

Watching his agony was more than Mike and Madeline could bear. They both stood, faces drawn with worry and compassion as Ross wept openly. They averted their eyes and moved toward
the doorway.

“Don’t go!” Ross pleaded with such force, it stopped them in their tracks. “No, don’t go…I need you to find out who took her things.” He approached them, staggering like a drunk, desperation etched into his features. He stopped just short of where they stood and used the back of a chair for support. He sniffed deeply and roughly wiped at
his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall apart
like this…”

“It’s perfectly okay. We understand what you’re going through,” Madeline said, laying her hand on his arm. Ross grabbed it with his and held it. He looked into her eyes and her relative calm seemed to reassure him. After a few shaky breaths, he pulled himself together. He patted Madeline’s hand and shot an embarrassed but grateful look at Mike, then ponderously made his way to the liquor cabinet.

He poured a highball glass half-full and took two large swallows. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned to face the P.I.s. He lifted his glass in an invitation to join him. Mike and Madeline both
politely declined.

Ross nursed his drink in private, then downed what was left. He let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan, shook his head, then ran his fingers through his hair. Composed, he turned back to
his guests.

“You said my mother hired you three
days ago?”

“That’s right,”
Madeline replied.

“And you haven’t figured out who stole
her jewelry?”

“No.”

Ross signaled for them to be seated. After Madeline had settled herself, she gave Ross the particulars of
her assignment.

“Your mother wanted this handled a certain way—very discreetly. She balked at the idea of reporting the theft to the police. Instead, she wanted me to do a background check on her companion. I got the distinct impression she suspected Teresa had taken her things to sell them. I know she really wanted her keepsakes returned, but she told me straight out that if I had found solid proof Teresa had taken and sold them, she would not turn her over to the police.”

“Why not?” Ross demanded. “Was she afraid
of retribution?”

“No, I think she valued the girl’s company over the jewels. They seemed to have a very sweet relationship, very respectful of one another. Teresa doted on her with
genuine affection.”

“You say that, yet you think she stole some very valuable, cherished gifts from my father,” Ross said, his
tone challenging.

“I had not come to that conclusion yet. But ultimately, it was your mother’s call. When I informed her that the girl’s Social Security number was bogus and her address didn’t exist, she became philosophical instead of vengeful. She wanted me to continue on with the background check, dig up as much as I could on Teresa’s real identity and her past. I gathered from that she was willing to keep the girl on, but she wanted to know the truth about her. Maybe she held on to the hope that she could get the jewels back and still keep her friendship
with Teresa.”

After listening to this assessment, Ross got up to pour another drink. He kept his own counsel as he drank, looking out at the gardens in front of the house. It was one of the few vistas that hadn’t been altered by Cherie’s vision of a “
legacy garden.”

“So…” Ross said, tuning back to the conversation. “What have you found out about this girl, Teresa…?”

“I’ve had two phone interviews with previous employers, though they weren’t able to shed much light on her past. They both thought she was heaven-sent, appearing in their lives just as their respective parents needed a companion-slash-caregiver. I’ve got two more contacts to follow up on,” Madeline said, her voice trailing off as she realized how much time had been wasted on Cherie’s party when Vivian’s problems were much more pressing. She also knew that technically her case had been terminated by Vivian’
s death.

“Ross, legally, I’m no longer employed to investigate this matter. I can give you a full written report and you can do with it whatever you choose.”

Ross looked down into his glass thoughtfully for a moment. “So, this is just a formality, really…if I want you to continue your background check on the girl or locate the missing jewels, you’ll need me to sign a new contract giving you the authorization to do so. Do I have
that right?”

“Essentially, yes,” Madeline said.

“Okay, let’s do it this way—I want you to find out everything you can about this girl’s background. If in the course of your investigation you happen to find mother’s jewelry, then great. But I’ve got sources I can put specifically on the gem search, people who are pros at this kind of thing.”