Hellman was beginning to noticeably sweat.
“You’ll notice those calls were made on September eleventh, at ten-fifteen and ten-sixteen P.M.”
No response from Madison. He was still staring at the paper.
“Those numbers,” Valentine continued, “are local toll calls to the phone numbers of Sue Harding, Ms. Harding’s mother, and Nancy Bonham, her sister.”
“Hmm,” Madison mused, as if the news was intensely interesting.
“Detective,” Hellman said, “if I could have a moment with my client.”
“Wait a minute,” Madison said. “She made a couple of calls one night when she dropped by my house complaining of abdominal pain.”
“So she was at your home that night,” Valentine said.
“Well, if she made these calls on the eleventh I guess the night she came over was the eleventh. She wasn’t a patient. I didn’t keep treatment notes of her visit.”
“Apparently, it was September eleventh, Dr. Madison.” Valentine paused. “Wasn’t it?” she said, locking on his gaze.
“It would appear so.”
“So Harding’s story is taking on some truth,” she said to Coleman.
“What are you talking about?” Madison asked. “What possible reason would I have for making advances to Brittany Harding? I have a wife and two kids. I’m happily married.”
Coleman leaned forward toward Madison. “She’s a looker. Twenty-five, long legs, big tits. You had something she wanted...her job. And she had something you wanted. So you told her that if she wanted to keep her job, she’d have to grease your pole.”
Madison winced at the detective’s street language. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“Then what happened that night?” Valentine asked.
Madison looked over at Hellman, who nodded for him to tell the story.
“She showed up at my door complaining of abdominal pain. She’d been to some local Quick Care facility where a nurse told her it was nothing to worry about. Brittany said she kept having sharp pains and didn’t know what to do, so she came by my house on the way home.”
Valentine leaned back in her chair. “Is that it?”
“Well, I gave her a brief abdominal exam, which was essentially negative, and I told her she probably had irritable bowel syndrome.”
“Anything else happen?”
“She started to feel better and left.”
“Describe an abdominal exam, the way you did it on Miss Harding that night,” Valentine said.
“The patient’s knees were flexed to relax the stomach muscles, and I placed my hand over her abdomen. I felt for rigidity, masses, and effusion. I made sure there were no aneurysms, and then I palpated the organs and checked for rebound tenderness.”
“How far down on the stomach did you go?”
“I examined the entire abdomen. From just under the rib cage down to the upper groin area.”
“You didn’t go any lower than the ‘upper groin area’?” Valentine asked.
“No.”
“And what happened after the exam?”
“Like I said, she just left.”
“And the phone calls?”
“Oh, she made them just before she left. She said something about not wanting anyone to worry about her not having been home all night. I let my dog into the yard and then went into my den.”
“What about sexual advances?”
“What about them?”
“I’m asking if you made any. You know, ‘Gee, you look incredibly hot tonight. I like your dress, how about—”
“All right, that’s enough,” Hellman said.
“I’ll answer that, Jeffrey.”
“You don’t have to, Phil.”
“It’s okay,” Madison said, turning to Valentine. “Detective, I swear to you. I examined her abdomen, I diagnosed her condition, urged her to get subsequent care from her personal physician if her symptoms returned, and that was it. No innuendoes, no overtures, undertures, comments, inappropriate behavior...nothing.”
“Do you usually examine patients’ abdomens at your home?”
Madison clenched his teeth but remained composed. “No, I don’t. I made an exception because it was someone I knew and she was in a great deal of pain. I’ll never make that mistake again, that’s for sure.”
Valentine sighed. “So that’s it? You were the perfect gentleman, just trying to help out a friend in need? I don’t buy it.”
“You know,” Madison said, “you’re so focused on me. But what about her? Why don’t you ask her how she knew where I lived? She said she pulled it off the Consortium computer. But they only have my P.O. Box.”
“We’re focused on you because you’re the one under investigation. How she knew where you lived is irrelevant. Maybe you gave her your home address and forgot.”
“I wouldn’t do that. But I’ll tell you how she knew. She must’ve followed me home one night. She’s stalking me—”
“Leave the paranoia at home, Doc.”
“Is that all you have?” Hellman asked.
“No. We’ve got one other item to discuss,” she said, motioning for Coleman to hand her the belt from the bag on the floor.
“Ever seen this belt?” she asked, showing it to Madison. It was encased in a plastic bag and tagged with an identification sticker.
“Not that I can recall.”
“Harding was wearing it the night she was at your house.”
“So?” Hellman said.
“So it’s got your client’s fingerprints on it.”
Madison rotated his palms toward the ceiling. “I examined her abdomen, and she was in a lot of pain. I helped her unbuckle it.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Look,” Hellman said firmly, my client has answered your questions and explained everything he possibly could. Now, are you going to formally charge him?”
“Not yet.” Valentine said this staring deeply into Madison’s eyes. He stared back, a game of cat and mouse.
“Fine,” Hellman said, arising and taking Madison by the arm. “Then we thank you for a most stimulating evening, detectives.”
They walked toward Madison’s Mercedes in silence.
“What do you think?” he asked Hellman as he unlocked the door.
“I think we’re okay, but I don’t like it. Too many implications. They could make a case of it. It would be dismissed, but not before your name was plastered all over the newspapers. I’m not going to deceive you. It would wreak havoc with your practice. Your reputation.”
“Tell me about it. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”
“My gut feeling is that they’re contemplating more than just sexual misconduct. They’re thinking rape.”
“Rape?!”
“Yeah, but it would be a huge reach. It’s been how long since the alleged incident? To have the most credibility, the woman has to report it and get to a doctor within twenty-four hours to be examined.”
“But they said sexual misconduct.”
“An understatement,” he said. “Cops lie during interviews. They do what it takes to get the information they’re after.”
“Then it doesn’t matter what they charge me with. Even if we get it dismissed, I know what people will think.”
“Let’s just take one day at a time. So far so good. You’re out here and they’re in there, right?”
“Yeah, right.” Madison had a difficult time feeling relief, any relief at all.
Leeza was walking down the stairs as he came through the back door.
“Hi,” Madison said, trying to appear upbeat.
“You had a call from Ed Dolius,” she said as she kissed him. “He wanted to know why the meeting was canceled.”
“Oh,” he said, removing his coat and hanging it in the closet. He had not called Leeza from the office to tell her about the change in plans and the scheduled interview with the detectives.
“Where were you all this time if the meeting was canceled? I tried you
at the office.” A hint of curiosity in her voice. The rumor of the affair was no doubt in the back of her mind.
“I had an interview with Jeffrey and the detectives at the station,” he said, sifting through his pile of mail. “They wanted to ask me some more questions.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you. And I figured that since I was supposed to be at the meeting, you weren’t expecting me to be home.”
“How’d the interview go?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” he said, forcing a smile and borrowing a line from Hellman.
“That’s not saying much.”
“That’s because not much happened.” He pushed his mail into a stack and faced Leeza. “They asked me some more questions and I gave them some more answers. It’s all a load of crap, and they know it. Jeffrey tried to push them into just letting the whole thing go.”
“And?”
“We’ll see. Jeffrey thought they’d asked enough questions, so he ended the interview and we left.” He loosened his tie. “What’s there to eat?”
“Hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Go change your clothes and I’ll heat something up,” she said. “Be quiet. The boys just went to sleep. They had hard time going down tonight for some reason.”
That’ll make three of us, he thought.
CHAPTER 24
THE WEEKEND CAME and went. Madison had a sour face on, and his kids sensed that it was better to give him some time alone. This made him more frustrated, as he actually had the time to spend with them. Problem was, he couldn’t seem to relax enough to enjoy their company.
Monday used to represent a fresh start to the week; today, it meant he had to climb out of his funk and return to work. He could not remember the last time he did not want to get to the office and start seeing patients. It was good that he did not have any surgeries scheduled for today.
Hellman had just returned from a deposition at eleven o’clock when his secretary informed him that there was an attorney holding on line two for him. It had to do with Brittany Harding.
“Hmm,” he grunted as he walked into his office.
Picked up the phone, buzzed the secretary. “What’s his name?”
“Movis Ehrhardt.”
“Movis?”
“Movis, like Moe in the three stooges,” his secretary remarked, laughing as she hung up the phone.
“Movis,” he repeated to himself, trying it out before striking the line button. “Jeffrey Hellman.”
“Mr. Hellman, my name’s Movis Ehrhardt, and I’m representing Brittany Harding in a civil matter pertaining to your client, Phillip Madison.”
A civil matter, that’s what this is about. “And...”
“And we have some issues that need to be addressed.”
“Such as,” Hellman asked, trying to gather as much information while saying as little as possible.
“Such as the evidence against your client in the rape of Miss Harding.”
“What rape?”
“Oh, come on, counselor. Have the police not interviewed your client?”
I was right. They were thinking rape. “Go on.”
“I would think that such an allegation, if made public, could be... somewhat problematic for your client. He’s a surgeon, isn’t he?”
Hellman gritted his teeth. “Where is this leading, Moovis?” he said, purposely mispronouncing his name.
“It’s Moe-vis,” he said, phonetically enunciating it. “And what I’m getting at, is that I’d think it would be embarrassing if the good doctor was charged with rape. You know, bad publicity. Probably wouldn’t be too good for his reputation, which I understand has been spotless, if not stellar. Up till now.”
Hellman was silent. He was too busy fuming and simultaneously trying to calm himself. He knew all too well where this was headed.
“So,” Movis was saying, “I could help you. Make sure your client never gets charged.”
“And how’s that? This is a police investigation.”
“Well, let’s just say that my client might not be willing to cooperate. Wouldn’t make a very good witness. Bad memory.”
“But my client’s innocent.”
“I’m sure that’s what he’s told you,” Ehrhardt said.
“It happens to be the truth.”
“Truth, schmooth. You and I both know that that truth doesn’t mean anything. It’s all about appearances and salesmanship. My client makes a very convincing victim.” He paused. “Considering all the factors involved, how does my offer sound to you?”
“I didn’t realize there was an offer on the table.”
“Fifty grand will make this…problem go away.”
“Fifty grand,” repeated Hellman. “I can be kind of dense sometimes. At least, that’s what my wife used to say,” he said with a chortle. “Are you telling me that if my client pays you fifty grand, your client will withdraw her complaint and be struck with sudden amnesia?”
“I don’t think you’re so dense. How’s it sound?”
“It sounds like extortion, a shakedown.”
“Whoa, counselor, fancy terms there. I thought it was a very reasonable offer. Helps your guy by making all this go away real fast. Helps my client, too. She doesn’t want to have to sit through a trial and relive all the horrors of that night.”
“Spare me the bullshit, Moovis, this entire thing was a setup. And it pads your pocket with…what, fifteen grand, all for a ten-minute phone call.”
“Don’t worry about what it does for me, Mr. Hellman,” he said, his tone changing abruptly. “Worry about what’ll happen to the good doctor when the cops come to arrest him at his office.”
“He’s still out on the street, seeing patients and performing surgery, Moovis.”
“Not for long. There’s more evidence you obviously don’t know about.”
“I know all about the phone calls and the belt.”
Ehrhardt snorted. “Old news.”
Hellman sat up straight in his chair. “What evidence are you talking about?”
“Why don’t you discuss the offer with your client, Mr. Hellman. Fifty thousand.”
“You’re a goddamned fucking sleazebag, Moovis.”
“Hardly a way to talk to a guy who’s trying to help your client. Obviously, you’re not doing such a hot job.”
“Go to hell.”
“Talk to your client,” Ehrhardt said. “The offer disappears in twenty-four hours.”
Hellman slammed the phone down. What other evidence could there be?
He dialed Madison, but was told he was in the middle of a consult with a patient.
“Get him out of the room,” Hellman said, the anger evident in his voice. “The patient will wait, Monica.”
Two minutes later, Madison picked up the extension.
“What’s going—”
“You were honest with me, right?” Hellman asked.
“About what?”
“About the goddamned rape thing. You didn’t touch her?”
“No, I didn’t touch her. I told you everything. What the hell’s the prob—”
“I just got a call from an attorney who’s representing Harding in a civil matter. The complaint the police were investigating is a criminal matter. When there’s a civil suit, it’s against you personally, for damages. Monetary damages. Harding’s attorney wants fifty thousand. You pay it, she withdraws the complaint.”
“Fifty thousand dollars? I didn’t rape her. It’s all a lie, Jeffrey. Jesus—hang on a second.”
Hellman heard a door close.
“Nearest patient room’s only a few feet down the hall. I wasn’t expecting—”
“Lie or not,” Hellman said, “if they charge you, I don’t have to tell you what the fallout will be.”
“I know.” Madison sighed. After a long moment, he asked, “What did you tell him?”
“I told him he was a goddamned fucking sleazebag.”
“
How can this be legal?”
“It’s not. It’s unethical to the level of criminality. It’s extortion, is what it is. But I didn’t want to completely alienate him, in case we decided to take his offer. And I certainly don’t want to blow this up to the point that the media gets hold of it—because then it doesn’t matter what we pay the crook.”
“Christ,” Madison said. “What the hell am I going to tell Leeza?”
“Knowing Leeza, I don’t think you should tell her. She’s already sensitive to Harding and the affair bullshit. It’ll look to her like you were guilty, and paid her off to shut her up. She may not understand.”
“Jeffrey, how did I get into this mess? Madison asked, his voice uneven.
Hellman leaned forward in his chair. It sounded as if his friend was crying. He had never, ever seen Phil Madison brought to tears.
“Why is this happening to me?”
“Phil, Phillip. Stop it. Don’t do this to yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. There are sick people in this world. You just happen to have crossed the path of someone who had the ability and circumstances to make your life miserable.”
“What do you think I should do?”
“Take the evening and think about it. I have until tomorrow afternoon to get back to him.”
“I don’t want to do it, Jeffrey.”
“I know. But I want to do what’s in your best interest. Let’s not think with our emotions, okay? Take a few breaths, compose yourself, and get back to work. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Madison made it home early that evening, just as the kids were finishing dinner. He played a game of Hungry, Hungry Hippos, then rolled on the floor with them while Scalpel barked and licked him, then brought over a tennis ball to play catch with…politely demanding attention.
He capped off the night by lulling them to sleep with a story about dragons. Leeza was reading and vegging on the family room couch, having been relieved of her nightly duties for the first time in weeks. She was enjoying every minute of it.
Madison looked at her several times during the evening while they were watching a show, and he almost asked her opinion about what he should do. But since he did all their self-directed investing, he could easily write a check from their brokerage account. He ran that aspect of their lives, just as she paid the bills when they came in. She would never notice the missing fifty thousand dollars.
False Accusations Page 12
