Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 02 - A High Price to Pay (32 page)

Madeline gave Ross a few seconds for self-reflection before pressing him again.

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” she said. Ross waved away her apology. “But something’s been hounding me… and now that I know Kris lived on your estate, it makes
me wonder…”

“Wonder about what?” Ross asked apprehensively.

“Well, the thing that has stymied Mike and me, along with the police, is that there are so few potential suspects for your mother’s murder, according to the surveillance footage. We’ve seen for ourselves everyone who went up and down both sets
of stairs…”

“And…?”

Madeline leaned in conspiratorially. “The estate is old, right?

“Built in 1928,” Ross said, still puzzled over what Madeline was
getting at.

“An era of grand homes built with great care given to the layout and functionality of the house…” Ross regarded her with
mouth agape.

“I don’t know where you’re going with this,”
he said.

“Are there any secret passages that would connect the downstairs with
the upstairs?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Ross said, his expression
still uncertain.

“But a boy who had free rein around the house in your absence might have discovered something like that, wouldn’t you think?” Ross shook his head dubiously. “Ross, the only way we can prove Cherie’s innocence at this point is to figure out if someone else could’ve gotten upstairs and back down without
being seen.”

Ross stared into Madeline’s eyes as the point hit home. “You don’t think Kris could’ve done it?” he asked, his brow creased with worry. Madeline’s eyes shifted ever so slightly as the possibility cemented itself in
her mind.

“No, no. I just want to find out if something like a hidden passage exists. If it does, it opens the door to a plethora of potential suspects,” she said, sitting back while Ross
digested this.

“Now I see what you mean…no more fingers pointed solely
at Cherie.”

“Exactly,” Madeline said. “If we could inspect every room and crawl space, we might find some type of passageway.” She watched as Ross’s face came alive
with hope.

“Mr. Alexander?” a tall brunette asked as she bent down by
their table.

“Yes,” Ross said anxiously, already scooting off the banquette. “Is my wife
all right?”

“Yes, she’s out of danger. But the doctor would like to speak you,” the woman said, smiling politely and encouragingly at both
of them.

“I’m right behind you,” Ross said. As the brunette turned to lead the way, Ross leaned over the table. “Thank you, Madeline. If you can get my wife out from under this nightmare, I will be forever in
your debt.”

“We’re going to do everything we can,” Madeline assured him. As she watched them leave the cafeteria, she wondered if Ross would really be happy with the results of
their digging.

THIRTY-EIGHT

As soon as Ross was out of sight, Madeline
called Mike.

“Did you get anything useful?”
he asked.

“I got some interesting background info on Kris Bagley, like the fact that he lived on the estate with Helen for several years. And that Ross paid to put him through an expensive private school. Sounds like he would’ve paid for college, too, if Kris hadn’t fallen in with a fast crowd. Ross blames himself for the problems the kid’s gotten himself into. I guess the money tap turned off once Kris opted out
of college.”

“Does Ross know about all
his arrests?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask him about that. But something did occur to me while we were discussing Helen’s troubled son,” Madeline said, her voice trailing off. Mike recognized the silence that followed as his partner’s mental
gears turned.

“Are you going to share that thought with me or not?” Mike asked after a
significant pause.

“What if there’s a hidden staircase in the house that the Alexanders aren’t aware of? What if Kris discovered it? Or any of the staff, for
that matter.”

“You’re suggesting that someone other than Cherie or Helen
killed Vivian…?”

“I’m just wondering if we’re not overlooking a vital piece of the puzzle. It’s certainly worth checking out,”
Madeline said.

“I agree. Anything is worth checking out at this point. Did you share your theory
with Ross?”

“No. It’s not so much a theory as it is a question mark. I just can’t stand by and watch Cherie go down on a murder charge without exhausting every possible alternate scenario,” Madeline said, surprised to find out how committed she was to a person she had grown
to dislike.

“So, what’s our
next move?”

“I want to get Ross’s permission to inspect every square inch of that place. Including outbuildings,” Madeline said as the caretaker’s cottage, Helen’s guesthouse and the pool cabana came to mind. “The house was built in the middle of Prohibition, so it wouldn’t be farfetched to imagine a tunnel or two on the property.”

“You’re getting quite cloak and dagger here, aren’t you?” Mike
chided her.

“Look, I’d have no qualms going straight for Helen as Vivian’s killer, but she’s alibied up
the wazoo.”

“And your intuition still tells you Cherie didn’t do it,”
Mike challenged.

“It’s not just intuition. There are too many actions on Cherie’s part that don’t add up to those of a murderer.” Mike had an argument against that assertion, but he already knew Madeline’s counter, so he stayed silent on the matter.

“I guess we could start trying to poke holes in Helen’s alibi,” Madeline said more to herself than Mike. “But with proof of her and Teresa leaving together, we would be clutching at ether. At least if we can prove or disprove the existence of a secret staircase or tunnel, then we would know it was worth our time trying to dissect Helen’s airtight alibi. Do you get what I’m saying? If there’s a hidden passageway, Cherie’s defense becomes a
lot easier.”

“Yeah, I follow you. So, tell me what you want me to do.” Madeline let her eyes wander aimlessly while she considered the next
logical step.

“I’ll talk to Ross about searching his property. He’s in with Cherie right now.” Madeline let out a forceful sigh, part frustration, part bewilderment. “I guess it would’ve been useful to follow Helen’s son,” she thought
out loud.

“I decided to take the more subtle approach of putting a tracker on his car.” This visual put a smile on Madeline’
s face.

“Okay, so what’s
your plan?”

“I’m just watching his movements for a while before I give chase. For all I know, he could’ve run down to the liquor store for more booze and cigarettes. If he doesn’t come to a stop in a minute, I’ll see go see what he’s
up to.”

“Good. I guess I’m supposed to hang around here until they let me in to see Cherie,” Madeline said, checking her watch. Not that it mattered, for time had lost its constancy over the last forty-eight hours. “Once I do get in, I’ll have to turn my phone off, so I’ll call you when I’
m leaving.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Mike said,
signing off.

Madeline dried her hands while she regarded her reflection in the restroom mirror. She wasn’t exactly thrilled by what she saw. Of course, the fluorescent lighting didn’t help. Nor did having so many worries on her mind.

She tried to rationalize that she would’ve been working just as hard with plenty of aggravations to sort through if Cherie’s party had gone as planned, without any suspicious deaths to investigate. But catering to the whims of the rich wasn’t even in the same category as dealing with the bereaved and trying to solve two murders. She touched up her lipstick and ran a brush through her hair and called it
good enough.

As she walked back toward the waiting area, the same tall brunette who had tracked Ross down now made a beeline for her.

“Mr. Alexander sent me to find you. Mrs. Alexander is asking to see you. The doctor has okayed it, but you’ll have to keep it brief,” the woman instructed as Madeline fell into step
with her.

Ross was exiting the room as they approached. He looked distracted and thoroughly worn out as he ran his hands across his temples, lacing them together behind his head as he let out a
powerful huff.

“Madeline,” he said as she came to a halt in front of him.

“How is she?”

Ross labored over his breathing as he searched for the words. “Physically, she’s going to be all right. Emotionally…” Ross shook his head. “She just can’t make sense of what’s happened to her life. I can’t blame her. I feel the same way. She’s petrified about being arrested and held until the
arraignment tomorrow.”

“Is there anything the doctors can do to postpone
the process?”

“I haven’t had an opportunity to speak to them about that yet. I need to talk with Liz and get her reading on the situation,” Ross said, his eyes straying down
the hallway.

“She was in the emergency waiting room when I was brought up. I think she’s working remotely until she has a chance to
see you.”

“Good. I’ll see if there’s a place we can meet,” Ross said, scouting around for the helpful brunette.

“Can I see Cherie now?” Madeline asked as she tried to peek inside the
private room.

“They just chased me out while they check her over. It shouldn’t be too
much longer.”

“There is something I need to talk to you about,” Madeline said as Ross raised his hand to get the facilitator’
s attention.

“What is it?” Ross asked, dropping his hand to his side, his attention now solely
on Madeline.

“I’d like to have your permission to do a thorough search of all the structures on
your property.”

“Sure, of course. What are you hoping to find?” Ross asked, folding his arms across his chest, his eyes probing Madeline’s with great interest. Madeline was afraid to get his hopes up too high, and she wasn’t sure exactly how to spin her somewhat
desperate hypothesis.

“I’d rather not point any fingers until we can back up our suspicions,” Madeline
said tactfully.

“Does that mean you think you’ve figured out who killed my mother?” Ross asked eagerly. Madeline opened her mouth to hedge her position, but Ross cut her off. “So, you believe someone else besides Cherie is responsible?” Ross was smiling ear to ear, a sight Madeline had never witnessed. It rendered her temporarily speechless. Fortunately for her, the doctor emerged from the room in time to make a reply unnecessary.

Ross made the introductions and then Dr. Burgess gave Madeline permission to see Cherie,
with caveats.

“Please try not to excite her,” Dr. Burgess warned. “She’s weak and in a very fragile state of mind. We’re monitoring her closely to make sure her body has no adverse reaction to
the transfusions.”

“
I understand.”

“Good.” The doctor checked the time on his electronic tablet. “You have ten minutes,” he said. With a nod to Ross and Madeline, he went about
his rounds.

When Madeline entered the room, she was shocked by the sight of her former client. For a moment, she thought she’d gone through the wrong door. Besides appearing as small as a child, the woman tucked into the hospital bed bore no resemblance to the Cherie she had come to know. What she saw before her was the stripped-bare version of the glamorous Hollywood persona. Her hair had dried in thick, wavy strands that seemed oddly unruly compared to her almost angelic features, scrubbed free of all traces of cosmetics.

At first she thought Cherie was asleep. It wasn’t until she turned to leave that Cherie opened her eyes
and spoke.

“Madeline.” Cherie’s voice was thin, barely above a whisper. It froze Madeline where she stood. “Please don’t leave,” Cherie begged.

With Cherie’s fragile condition, Madeline wasn’t sure what help they could offer each other. But the look of despair in Cherie’s eyes compelled Madeline to cross the room and sit in the chair
beside her.

An inscrutable smile flickered across Cherie’s face, striking Madeline as alarming, if
not sardonic.

“I guess I should be thankful for all the protective measures they’ve taken to make sure I don’t croak,” Cherie said, taking in all the monitoring devices surrounding her. “I certainly won’t get this kind of kid glove treatment where I’m headed.” If the remark was designed to illicit sympathy, it was wasted
on Madeline.

“How do
you feel?”

“Like I wish I were dead,” Cherie said. She must’ve regretted the flippant remark; her expression softened and her eyes teared up. “I don’t really,” she amended, choking up at the grim reality she now found
herself in.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Find out who’s doing this to us,” Cherie pleaded. “This has to be some kind of vendetta by some
crazed lunatic.”

“Why do you think that?” Madeline asked, hoping there was some concrete reasoning behind this supposition. What she and Mike needed most of all right now was a motive to
work with.

“What else could it be?” Cherie asked crossly. Madeline leaned back in the chair and regarded her calmly. “I’m sorry. I don’t…I’m so confused, and scared and frustrated. I just don’t understand how this can
be happening.”

“Do you know of anyone who has a grudge against you or Ross? Has anyone ever threatened to get even with you? Is there anyone you’ve ever had a falling out with who would be vindictive enough to go to these lengths to bring you down?” Throughout the questioning, Cherie bit her bottom lip thoughtfully and shook her head as her eyes stayed trained on Madeline’s.

“There were an awful lot of people at that party Friday night, a lot of people with fragile egos. Maybe there was someone in that crowd who’d do anything to trade places with you…” This scenario caused Cherie’s features to cloud over as she mentally went through the guest list for possible cutthroats.

“I don’t know,” she said, bewildered.

“And you don’t know of anyone who had it in for Vivian…?”

Cherie shook her head adamantly. “Everyone adored her. Even me, though she thought I was a self-
centered ditz.”

“I don’t think that’s true,”
Madeline said.

“How would you know? She loved Linda, not me. I was just a third-rate replacement, as far as Vivian was concerned.” Madeline gave her a look that said she
knew better.

“Like I told you yesterday, I was working for Vivian at the time of her death. I know that she was very fond of you.” Cherie pouted, unconvinced. “You don’t pass on a treasured heirloom to someone you don’t have true affection for,” Madeline said, catching herself as soon as the words left her mouth. This admission now hung in the air as clearly as if it were
written there.

“What are you talking about?” Cherie asked, squirming into a more upright position.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Madeline said, coloring at her faux pas.

“Tell me!” Cherie demanded without raising her voice. Madeline looked toward the door while she wrestled with
her dilemma.

“I don’t want to spoil the surprise,” she said, causing Cherie to laugh
out loud.

“Umm, I think now would be a good time for some major cheering up, don’t you? Besides, I may never get to see whatever it was Vivian was planning to give me,” Cherie said, a peek of that winning charisma showing through her wretchedness.

In that split second, the answer hit Madeline like a lightning bolt, as several pieces aligned themselves, presenting such a conclusive, convincing scenario, she could barely control her urge to run out of the room.