Crystal Clear Ch. 15

Margo spoke, "I am a private investigator, and I often work in concert with the police here at home as well as in other countries. We are investigating a case of blackmail that involves the two of you -- Mr. Mellon and you Miss Gable. By the way, if you decide to run one of those gentlemen behind you will stop you."

Margo gestured over Maddy's shoulder to two men in black suits that were strolling very slowly towards us.

Maddy's color was draining from her face.

Margo continued, "Blackmail, particularly of celebrities or involving large sums of money or both is usually punishable by an average of ten years in jail and fines sufficient to bankrupt even the most well-to-do families. And, of course, there are the outrageous legal and court fees that get assessed too. Here, multiple jurisdictions are involved, so you'd have to stand trial and jail terms not only in the United Kingdom where the crime was committed, but also in the United States where the felony statutes protect its citizens, even when they are outside the country. I know that the U.K. jails are not kind to pretty young women, and I imagine the Oklahoma jails would be much the same."

Maddy sat on the low wall with a kerplunk. Her book bag dropped on the pavement, and she put her face in her hands and a quiet sob exploded from her. A minute later, after our silence, she looked at Margo and then at me with tears on her cheeks.

Caroline came up to us about then, but stopped about ten feet away and just watched and listened. I think her presence further rattled Maddy, as though a witness had suddenly appeared to speak against her.

I unfolded the blackmail note and passed it to her. I said in a low voice, "You did it didn't you?"

She nodded her head and whispered, "Yes."

I said firmly, "Louder, please, so we can all hear you."

She said more loudly, "Yes, I did the note and it's me in the photograph. I even set up the bank account a year ago for my own use."

"Why?"

Maddy spoke, "I was underage at the time that night. I thought ... I just wanted something so I didn't have to live off my parents. I hate them ... but I wanted things ... to be on my own. I saw a path ..."

Margo spoke, "What would you say if I told you that you were NOT underage when you and Mr. Mellon had sex?"

Maddy looked puzzled; "How can that be?"

Margo said, "When was your birthday?"

"The day of my coming out ... oh, but I was born late in the evening. Wasn't I seventeen up until ten o'clock or whenever?"

"And what time of night did you have sex with Mr. Mellon."

A long silence ensued, and then her small voice said, "Well after midnight. Oh shit, I'd turned eighteen."

Margo pushed, "So the premise that you were underage when you got fucked was just plain wrong, WASN'T IT?" Margo yelled the last few words, even leaning into Maddy's face. She was mad.

"Yes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Tears rolled down Maddy's scrunched up red face.

Margo said, "It's not as easy as saying I'm sorry. You committed a felony in two countries."

Maddy sobbed, "But, I don't want to go to jail. What can I do?"

"You can come with us. You're going to make what's known as a sealed deposition and have it notarized -- it's your confession to the crime, and you state you were not under duress when you made the confession."

"Who do I ..."

"We'll show you, now come with us." Margo waved her hands, and a black sedan with the two men in black pulled up curbside next to us. "Jim, you and Maddy go in Matthew's car. I will drop Caroline off, and then meet you. They know where they're taking you." She did quick introductions of Matthew and me.

Matthew Cogshill, a detective colleague of Margo's company, drove us into the center of London, ending halfway between Saville Row and Bond Street on Clifford Street in the middle of Mayfair. We waited a few minutes in the car until Margo came walking up the street from a car park on Grafton Street. Maddy had been silent the entire time in the car except to sniff and quietly cry now and then. Somehow, she'd ended up with a handful of tissues that by now were rather soggy.

Maddy and I got out, and Margo escorted us into a posh high-end law office. She told us, "David Balfour is a general practice lawyer for this firm and a friend of mine. I've arranged for him to take the deposition."

Maddy nodded reluctantly. We followed a receptionist to a small conference room. A minute later a tall, lanky man with an unkempt mop of salt-and-pepper hair came into the room. Introductions were made.

David started, "Let's do our business first; I understand we'll have some chat time after that. I understand you want me to take some kind of deposition from this young ladyÓ" he gestured to Maddy. "I must tell you that if a crime has been committed I am ethically and legally bound to report the same to the authorities unless I am representing that person."

Maddy looked shocked at the idea that yet another person had been brought into the scope of her crime, and that he too wanted to report her crime.

Margo spoke, "I think I've anticipated that. What I hope you will do is wait and watch while this girl -- Maddy Gable -- writes out a handwritten document. You need not know what is in the document, but you do need to understand she has her faculties and is not under duress to do this. If you'd then notarize her and our signatures on each page and seal the document for permanent filing, we will be done. Should we ever need the document, we can reclaim it from your firm's archives. Does that work for you.?"

David smiled at Margo and nodded his assent.

I thought how clever Margo turned out to be about this. Her suggestion gave David deniability, yet recorded and left the confession to blackmail in a safe place.

David went out and came back to the room with a sheaf of A4 paper and a pen. On the bottom of each page was space for signatures and witnesses to sign. Margo started Maddy writing; suggesting she describe her entire interaction and motivation starting with 'events' in Oklahoma. She said, "Please also include the details relating to your birthday and the 'official' time you turned eighteen, and then the time you interacted with Mr. Mellon."

As Maddy started writing on the large table in pinched but perfectly formed letter. Margo made more formal introductions between David and me. She gave us a few bridge lines, and we off chatting about his law practice, his favorite hobby of sculling on the Thames River, and my movies and singing career, and my somewhat famous motorcycle ride across America.

I watched as David carefully read some of what Maddy wrote about albeit upside down. When I caught him one time, he winked at me.

Maddy used eight pages in small pinched writing to record her misdeeds against me. Margo read through the pages, and I watched her whisper a few words to Maddy, who in turn wrote out another half-page of prose. Margo collected the pages, had Maddy number them '1 of 8,' '2 of 8,' and so on, and then passed them to me to read. I thought her description of the situation was not only accurate and complete, but also indicting should they ever fall into the wrong hands.

David took Maddy's document and said, "Each of you sign as witnesses, although if I understand the situation Jim's signature may ultimately be negated because he is involved in the situation."

I realized in that statement just how much of Maddy's document David had been able to read upside down. There had been no mention of my involvement with Maddy up to that point. Neither Margo nor Maddy picked up on the discrepancy.

Maddy, Margo, and I signed at the bottom of each page. David then covered the prose Maddy had written and witnessed all the signatures, adding his stamp and seal, as well his attesting that all present were of sound mind and not under duress. He put the pages in an envelope and, as Maddy had done, placed a wax seal over the flap. The envelope had 'do not open' instructions on it with David's signature.

We expressed our thanks, and then left to race through a light rain to the car park. Margo drove us up Finchley Road to Swiss Cottage. She dropped Maddy at her door. Maddy apologized again and promised she'd never do anything like this again. I believed her.

Margo said she would follow up with Maddy in a few days. "I think the girl needs some therapy, particularly about her relationship with her parents and her wild thinking. I'm going to coax her into seeing a psychiatrist I know that could really help her sort things out."

I nodded my agreement with her idea. We rode along for a bit in bumper to bumper traffic.

Margo said, "It's getting to be dinner time, are you up for an early bite?" I nodded, and Margo headed back into London center, describing a Thai restaurant that looked out over Berkeley Square. Thirty minutes later, a valet had taken Margo's Mini, and we were seated enjoying a glass of wine.

In our conversation, we disposed of the problem with Maddy, and then Margo got me talking about my road trip across America. "I got the feeling you touched only on part of the trip with David -- the high points."

I gave the travelogue version of the trip. Margo had been to the States often enough that she knew or had even visited some of the places.

About halfway through dinner, Margo gave me a licentious grin and asked, "OK, now skip the travelogue. Tell me about the women you met on your trip. I can't believe Oklahoma was the only place you found companionship. Please tell me a 'real' story -- a sexy one from a sexy man."

I smiled back at her, and started, "Well, I have this friend in Pennsylvania I visited on my road trip, and he lives in an open marriage with three women ..."

To be continued