False Accusations by Jacobson, Alan (great novels of all time .txt) 📕

had told her: that he had had an affair with the woman. Now, after what she had witnessed, she was not sure what—or whom—to believe.

“Honey, I swear to you. I never laid a hand on her. I have never, ever even thought of getting involved with her.”

“Oh, come on, Phil. She’s gorgeous. You can’t tell me that you’ve never had fantasies about her.”

“Lee, she’s attractive. So are a lot of women in Sacramento. What does that mean?”

“Yeah, but you don’t go out to dinner with those other women.”

He did not like what he was hearing. She was adding up all the little tidbits of circumstantial occurrences, throwing them into the broth with the rumors she’d heard, and cooking them into a hearty serving of deceit.

Pausing for a deep breath, he realized that she, too, had been feeling the stress of recent weeks. “Lee, you’re just going to have to believe me. Nothing happened.” He looked at her and let his eyes penetrate hers. “She may be physically attractive, but she’s crazy—a nut job. Nothing could be more ugly than the type of behavior she’s been exhibiting.”

She dropped her chin to her chest and nodded. He knew that she needed some time to herself to unwind; he told her that he would take care of the boys for the afternoon, freeing her to drive over to the mall, where she could unwind for a few hours.

He spent the rest of the day with the kids—a rare day with just Dad—playing in the yard with them. Scalpel chased balls while he and the boys shot hoops.

He, too, tried to forget the incident with Harding. He called Hellman and relayed the sequence of events. His friend told him he was on his way out with his brother for the weekend, but he promised to call him back Monday morning unless he returned home early enough on Sunday night.

“Meantime,” Hellman said, “don’t worry about it. I know exactly what needs to be done.”

Leeza came home with a new dress and a couple of pantsuits from Nordstrom. Her spirits were better, but she was still quiet. He could tell that she had been crying during the day.

There was also a package from Victoria’s Secret, but he did not dare ask what was inside.

CHAPTER 19

THE WEEKEND passed without further incident, with one exception. Madison ran into Matt Prisco late Sunday afternoon while wheeling the recycling and garbage bins out to the curb. His neighbor was polite, but wanted to know what had happened yesterday with “that looker.”

Madison, in turn, was curious as to what Harding had said to him before storming his driveway.

“Something about you being a pervert,” Prisco said. “I don’t know, Phil, she was raving mad. To be honest, with Scott standing right there, I didn’t want to provoke her. She seemed a bit off.”

Prisco was a psychologist, and although Madison didn’t know him professionally, he was impressed that he’d pegged her that quickly.

Madison’s face flushed deep red. “Honestly, Matt, I don’t know how much you saw or heard, but I haven’t got a clue as to what she was talking about.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

He explained in a few sentences who she was and the problems the Consortium had been having with her. Although Prisco listened intently and appeared to understand, Madison couldn’t help but notice something on his neighbor’s face that indicated a shred of lingering doubt. He knew what Jefferies must have been thinking: Harding might be “a bit off,” but that doesn’t mean that what she was ranting about didn’t really happen.

Madison made the long walk back to the house, hoping that Jeffrey would return to town in time to talk with him tonight. He wondered what course of action his friend had in mind.

Monday morning was overcast and unusually humid. As Leeza helped Elliott get ready for school, Jonah sat in front of the TV watching Sesame Street in the playroom on the second floor. Madison was knotting his tie when he heard a knock at the door. Leeza, thinking it was their car pool, allowed Elliott to answer the door. She was in the kitchen when she heard him shout to her. “Mommy, there’s a policeman at the door. And a girl, too.”

“A policeman,” Leeza said as she wiped off her wet hands and walked toward the entryway. “Can I help you?”

“Mrs. Madison?” asked the man in the suit, holding up a badge.

“Yes.”

“Detective Coleman, Sacramento Police Department. This is Detective Valentine,” he said, nodding toward his female partner. “Is your husband home? We’ve got a few questions for him.”

“Elliott, run upstairs and get your father. Hurry,” she said, giving him a slight push on the buttocks.

“What’s this about?”

“We’d rather discuss it with your husband. No offense, ma’am.”

“Offense taken,” she said, turning and walking back toward the kitchen.

Madison came trudging down the stairs, Elliott following closely behind, almost hiding behind his father’s legs.

“Can I help you?”

“Are you Phillip Madison?”

“Yeah, what can I do for you?”

“We’d like to ask you some questions about Brittany Harding.”

He shot a glance at Leeza across the hallway, then looked over at Elliott, who was staring with fascination at the gun that was planted in the male detective’s holster inside his suit jacket.

“I have to get to the office, can this wait—”

“It’ll only take a few moments, sir.”

He sighed, reasoning that he was just as curious to find out what this was about as they were to ask him the questions.

“Come in here,” he said, leading them into his den. As they walked into the richly appointed room complete with floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookcases and a matching desk, Leeza came over. He motioned with a nod of his head for her to look after Elliott, then settled into his large leather seat. “Please,” Madison said, gesturing to the guest chairs.

As they sat, the male detective said, “Mr. Madison, I’m Detective Paul Coleman and this is Detective Kimberly Valentine.”

“It’s Doctor,” he corrected, “and it’s good to meet you.”

“We have a complaint sworn by Brittany