“I’m not telling you to lie,” Hellman said. “Just don’t bring it up.”
Madison shrugged. “No one saw her come by. There’s no way they could even prove she was there.”
“Then stop worrying. Besides, if they ask you about it, you could just say that you forgot about it, you didn’t have anything written in your calendar, and you see so many patients and have so many meetings, that you can’t even remember what happened yesterday, let alone six weeks ago. Then, just tell them the truth.” He looked hard at Madison. “Okay?”
Madison hesitated. “I guess.”
“Phil,” he said, putting his fork down. “You have nothing to worry about. We’ll take care of this. You did nothing wrong. We’ll make it go away.”
Madison sighed. “While you’re at it, make her go away too.”
“Miracles,” Hellman said, “have been known to happen.”
CHAPTER 21
It was nearly six o’clock that evening when they entered the interview room with Detectives Coleman and Valentine. It was dimly lit, a few bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The medium-sized room was just large enough to hold a rectangular table, which measured about six feet by four feet. Madison and Hellman were sitting with their backs to the wall. Coleman, entering and introducing himself to Hellman, told them that Detective Valentine would be joining them shortly.
“So are you going to charge my client?” Hellman asked, getting right to the point.
“Nobody’s been charged with anything. This is strictly an interview.”
“Because you don’t have anything on my client. This just a fishing expedition.”
Coleman stared at Hellman, betraying nothing.
“What are you investigating?” Hellman asked.
“A crime, counselor. I’m not at liberty to discuss the complaint any further at this time.”
“And why’s that?”
“The substance of the complaint should have no bearing on the truth, and all we want this evening is the truth.” Coleman threw a forced, contrived smile at Hellman.
Hellman worked his jaw muscles, then said, “If you want our cooperation, which we’re prepared to give, then you’re going to have to tell me what the complaint is against my client. Otherwise, I can’t advise him properly on this matter.”
“I really don’t think the substance of the complaint is relevant.”
“You’re not an attorney,” Hellman said. “As Dr. Madison’s counsel, I most definitely feel that it is relevant.”
“Would you prefer that we charge the good doctor right now? Then you’ll have all the information you want. Of course, his reputation might be a bit…tarnished.”
“Charge him with what?”
Coleman looked at him, as if to say, Nice try, counselor.
“Give me a moment with my client,” Hellman said, showing Coleman the door with his eyes.
The detective frowned, then walked out. His shadow could be seen through the stippled glass window.
Madison wiped away a few droplets of sweat from his forehead. “What’s all this posturing about?”
Hellman leaned close to Madison’s ear in case they were being observed. “They don’t want to tell us what they’re investigating-what the complaint is against you. I need to know so I can have a sense as to how much leeway to give you when you’re answering questions. It could be significant later.”
“And if they won’t tell us? Then what?”
Hellman sighed and cocked his head to one side. “Then, we have a choice. We can walk out-there’s nothing keeping us here-and hope that they don’t arrest and charge you. My guess is that if they had enough evidence, they would’ve already done that. But since you’re innocent, it may not hurt to give them some info to refute the complaint and see if it goes away. They’ll get a feel for you as a person, and conclude that you probably didn’t do what the complaint says you did. That could be very important.”
He paused, allowed Madison to assimilate all this. “On the other hand, they can arrest you even though they really don’t have enough to keep you more than a few hours. They’ll hope to gain something from your fear of being locked up. It’s a very powerful motivator. Think of what being arrested would do to you-it’d be severely damaging to your reputation. Even if they don’t have enough evidence and have to let you go, you’ll look guilty as hell, having hired a sharp, high-priced lawyer who confused the issues and got you off.”
Madison was shaking his head. “Too much to risk. I’ll talk to them.”
“First let me see what I can do. Be prepared to follow my lead and walk out. Assuming they don’t arrest you, we can always walk back in.”
Madison gave a reluctant nod. Hellman walked over to the door and knocked on it; Coleman re-entered the room.
“Well?” the detective asked, sitting down.
“Tell us what the deal is or we’re leaving. You can charge him if you want, but I think it’s easier to just tell us what the gist of the complaint is-and you’ll have our full cooperation. Your call.”
Coleman sat there, his closed mouth making contortions while he thought.
Suddenly, Hellman tapped Madison’s arm as he rose from his seat. “Let’s go, Phil. We’re leaving.”
Coleman remained seated. “Hold it,” he said, raising a hand. “If I told you that there’s a complaint of sexual misconduct, would that satisfy your curiosity?” He looked at Hellman, who began to sit back down. “It’ll have to,” the detective said, “because that’s all I’m gonna say.”
“Is there or isn’t there a complaint of sexual misconduct?” Hellman asked.
Coleman shrugged. “I’ve said all I’m gonna say.”
The door swung open and in stepped Detective Valentine, her ID clipped on the collar of her maroon blouse.
“Gentlemen,” she said, addressing her audience.
“Jeffrey Hellman,” he said, rising again and extending a hand out toward Valentine across the table.
“Mr. Hellman.”
No doubt assuming that the little bit of information he had given Hellman was enough to secure his cooperation, Coleman initiated the interview. “We have some questions about the night of September eleventh of this year.”
“What about it?” Madison asked.
“Where were you?”
“I don’t recall specifically.”
“Do you keep a calendar?”
He reached into his inside suit coat pocket, pulled out his DayTracker, and opened it up. Hellman took it from him and began to thumb through it, reading the pertinent entries surrounding the date in question. Satisfied, he flipped back to September eleventh and returned it to Madison. “Okay.”
“I had a surgery at nine A.M., did rounds at one, went to lunch, and met with the chief radiologist, Bill Slavens, to consult with him on a few MRIs. Then I went home and ate dinner.”
“Did you see Brittany Harding that night?”
He looked again at his DayTracker. “I don’t have anything written in my calendar…” He flipped through a couple of pages and his index finger found an entry. “We did have a meeting a few days later.”
“What’s the nature of your relationship with Miss Harding?”
“She was filling in for the administrative officer of the Consortium for Citizens with Mental Retardation. I’m the president of the board of directors. We had periodic meetings and phone conversations with each other.”
“Is the presidency a paid position?”
“Strictly volunteer. I do it because I care about the organization and the people and families who need our help.”
“Have you ever had any other kind of relationship with Miss Harding besides the one you just described?”
