Cynthia Hamilton - Madeline Dawkins 01 - Spouse Trap by Cynthia Hamilton Page A

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