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

Madison hurried to get away from her as quickly as possible. Away from the embarrassment, the confrontation. Out of the market.

“Go home to your retarded brother!” he heard her shout in the distance.

Poor Ricky. How did he get dragged into this?

Madison took a couple of deep breaths to compose himself, then glanced up to see where he was. The checker was looking at him, a young man of perhaps twenty. He appeared tentative, unsure if he should say anything. “Hey, you okay?” he finally asked.

Madison looked up at the man, a bit disoriented. He turned and glanced around behind him. People down the aisle from where he had just come were staring at him. Harding was standing with them, no doubt filling their ears with detailed lies of the nonexistent rape her scheming, deceitful mind had dreamed up.

“How much?” Madison asked, realizing he had to pay in order to get the hell out of there.

“Twenty-one forty-two,” the man said, pointing to the green LED readout.

Madison fumbled for his American Express card.

“Cash only,” the checker said, craning his neck up to the sign above his head. “You’re in the—”

“Yeah, okay,” Madison said, still somewhat shaken, opening his wallet and pulling out a couple of twenty-dollar bills.

“What’s her deal?” the man asked.

“Huh? Oh, she’s got some emotional problems.”

The checker glanced at Harding as he handed Madison the receipt. “Take it easy.”

“I’ll get you for this, you son-of-a-bitch!”

Madison heard her shouting again, behind him somewhere, like a nightmare that returns after you fall back asleep.

She was on line behind him now, three people back as he strode quickly away from the register.

“Who’ve you raped lately?” she asked. “Bastard—I’m gonna make sure you pay!”

Madison managed to keep his head as he walked out into the cold evening air of the parking lot, leaving her screaming behind him. Some emotional problems. Understatement of the year.

And Jeffrey thinks I need a shrink.

CHAPTER 28

CHANDLER FINISHED his third cup of coffee and looked up at Madison, who had stopped talking. He was just staring at the table, the lack of sleep apparent on his face.

“Phil?”

Madison sat for another moment, seemingly mesmerized by the pattern of the wood grain on the butcher block table.

“Phil?” Chandler asked. “You okay?”

“Huh?” He looked up. “Yeah, fine.” He forced a smile. “That’s it. That’s the story. They came to my house a few days later and arrested me.”

“And here we are.”

“Here we are.”

“Did you ever speak to Leeza?”

He laughed bitterly. “A couple of days later she called to let me know she and the boys were okay. I told her what had happened, about the bogus evidence they had, and the settlement Jeffrey negotiated, and why we agreed to it. And of course I told her about the picture. She listened to what I had to say, but she didn’t really give much of a response. Said she’d have to think things over, let it all sink in. She wasn’t sure who to believe, if she should believe anyone at all. There was no trust, no common ground. It was very awkward.”

“When was that?”

“I don’t know, a couple weeks ago.”

“Have you spoken to her since then?”

“Yeah. I went by to see the kids. Took them to the park. Jonah wanted to know why they had to stay at his aunt’s house and why they couldn’t see me. It was terrible, Ryan.” He paused, staring at the table again. Tears filled his eyes, but he fought to retain control.

“I call them every other day. Lee doesn’t say much to me. When I was arrested, she drove out to help me with bail. We talked a little. She was still upset that I’d never told her that Harding was even at the house that night. She wanted to know why I didn’t tell her—she was really fixated on that. After all, if I couldn’t trust her, who could I trust? And then the kicker: if I lied about Harding being in the house, how could she know for sure that I didn’t lie about raping her?”

Madison shook his head. “I told her that I didn’t lie about the rape, and I told her that I didn’t kill those two people.” He laughed mockingly. “Said she believed me about the murders, because she knows I’m not a murderer. She wanted to be here for me, but she didn’t want to come back because of a crisis. Bottom line was that she needed to resolve things in her mind before we could move on and be together again.”

Both men were silent for a moment. Then, Madison nodded at the vase on the table. “Leeza used to buy fresh flowers every week. While she’s been gone, the flowers died. Just like everything else in my life. Me, my marriage. My family. My career.”

“Phil, come on. Enough of this negative talk.” Chandler tried to meet Madison’s downcast eyes. “Hey, are you there?”

Madison’s voice was low, almost as if he was talking to himself. “It’s so unlike her.”

Chandler grabbed a pad by the edge of the table. “We need a plan of attack. First, I want to make a list of all the people who have something to offer us in support of the assertion that it was Harding who was driving the car. And people who witnessed the public threats she made against you, the fabricated stories, the people who witnessed the erratic behavior—”

“For what?”

“We’re going to build a case against her, to show that it was her who committed the crime, not you. Didn’t you ever watch Perry Mason?”

“I guess I was too busy studying.”

Chandler laughed. That statement was probably all too true.

“Isn’t Jeffrey going to be doing this?”

Chandler pulled the cap off a gel pen. “You brought me here to help you. I don’t intend to just sit around on my ass examining physical evidence. Besides, it’ll be a few days before we’ll even know if I’ll be allowed access to it. Meantime, I want to make the