“Exactly,” he said, chewing. “And if they ask a question that I don’t want you to answer, I’ll stop you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
They chewed on their food some more. Both sat in silence. Madison pulled out his DayTracker wallet and thumbed through the pages.
“What’s the matter?”
“September eleventh was a Thursday, the day Leeza and the kids went to L.A. I bet that was the night when Brittany dropped by my house complaining of abdominal pain.”
“She did what?”
“She came by and said that she had gone to the Quick-Care clinic for treatment of abdominal pain, but the nurse practitioner saw her and blew her off. She was having a lot of cramping. I took a quick look at her, and told her that I thought it was just irritable bowel syndrome.”
Hellman put his fork down. “Can you define what you mean by taking ‘a quick look at her’?”
“A cursory abdominal exam. To rule out appendicitis, hepatitis, aneurysm — ”
“How long did this exam take?”
“A minute, maybe. It was nothing, really.”
“And that was it?”
“I told her to follow up with her doc in the morning. She was feeling better, relieved that it wasn’t anything major, and she left.”
Hellman took a drink of water. Swallowed, deep in thought. “No one saw her there? I mean, no one dropped by, no UPS deliveries, nothing like that?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s not in your appointment book, and it’s probably not in hers, because she dropped by unexpectedly, right?”
“It wasn’t a meeting or anything.”
“Okay.” He paused. “Who was the doctor she was going to see the next day?”
“It was...John Vincente. Family practitioner.”
“Know him?”
“No, but I know of him.”
Hellman pulled out his phone and called Information, jotted down Dr. Vincente’s office number, and input it. Sat and listened. “Yes, hi, this is Elmore Elkins, a claims adjuster for California Prudent Health PPO. I have a claim form here submitted by a Brittany Harding, with a date of service of September twelfth. But when I try to input it into the system, I see that she went off our plan on September tenth. I’d like to pay this bill, but can you tell me if Miss Harding was in your office on that date?” He looked up at Madison, who was stifling a smile. “She wasn’t? Okay, then when was the last time she was at your facility?... May fifteenth for her annual Pap?... Okay, great, then this must be a mistake. Thanks for your help.” He ended the call and looked at Madison.
“Do people do that to my office staff too?”
Hellman set his phone down on the table. “It’s easier to get info from medical offices than people think.”
“So much for the HIPAA Privacy Rule.”
“She never went in to see Dr. Vincente after you saw her, so there’s nothing documented in his records about her having been examined by you.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So I don’t think you should bring it up.”
Madison made a face, as if to say “I don’t know.”
“Look, Phil, nothing happened, am I right?”
“Right.”
“So why arouse suspicion by putting yourself in a vulnerable position? Your wife and kids are away, here’s a beautiful woman who you admit came over to your house in the evening, you play a little cutesy game of doctor and then you make sexual overtures. Do you see what they can make it look like?”
“So I shouldn’t say that she was even there.”
“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
