Wrongfully accused

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
How far can someone go for a loved one?

Submitted: August 14, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 14, 2013



“You’re a fool!”

“Calm down, Madeline. It is not good for your nerves.”

“I refuse to sing this shitty song at this shitty show. Do you understand me?”

“You have to know it’s one of the best songs written by Jim…”

“Jim is an idiot! He has no talent!”

“Then do it for me…”

She turned toward him, a mean smile on her lips.

“Charles, you’re just my agent.”

“This song is about your split-up and future divorce. Yours fans love it since it plays on the radio!”

She heaved a deep sigh, glaring at him. She put her hands on her lips and he suppressed a smile. Standing like she was, he thought she looked like a vase wearing spandex. Or a pitcher… But he refrained from passing any comment. She might throw him something. Madeline was very upset and when she was – like it was the case right now – she was able to do the worst to make everyone around her feel miserable.

“Okay. I’ll do the show, but I refuse to sing this fucking song.”

A man wearing a headset joined them and motioned to Madeline, saying it’ll be her turn soon. She cast a glance at her reflection, replaced her dark blue blouse and began to smile. Then she went on stage, her fake smile on her lips. The audience screamed at her sight. She sat down near the host, Sebastian Sims. She gave him a sweet glance, even if she thought he was an asshole of the worst kind. She sat in a chair from a very bright yellow.

“Hi MadLy!” Sebastian cried, which leaded to a wave of applause from the audience. “Not too mad?”

“A bit tired from the tour,” she began, “but I’ll survive!”

“But tell me, MadLy, rumors say that you are single again. Is it true?”

The smile on the young woman wavered somewhat.

“Where did you hear that?” she asked as she laughed.

In backstage, Charles’s shoulders slumped in despair. The crowd laughed too, but certainly not in the same way as Madeline did. The young woman felt very embarrassed to hear more about this story in front of a crowd of admirers. And from what she could see, the room was packed. Inwardly, she made a promise to personally berate the host. Sebastian even dared ask her if she found it difficult to be alone. She forced herself to expand her smile to hide the fact she wanted more than anything to beat him up in public.

“Absolutely not! We’re fine since our separation. When I’m in town, we’re having dinner together or go to the movies.”

“Your current tour is doing great, I think.”

“Yes. There are only two more shows in New York before we tackle the rest of the U.S. market.”

“Your new album is a real gem! Is it true that you’re preparing a new album to be released next fall?”

She nodded, very proud of her work.

“But there’s a song that I love and I want to hear tonight.”

“Oh really? Which one?”

“You must know! Can you interpret it for us?”

She shook her head quickly before stopping her own reaction, but the crowd began to scream with joy. The talk show host crossed his hands before his face with imploring eyes. Resigned, she finally got up and walked to the musicians. The first notes sounded in the studio. She took the microphone, asking herself how she was doing it. She hated the song more than anything else. Why she seemed the only one not to love it?

* * * * *

“Charles! Can you explain to me how this idiot knew about my divorce? His researcher gave him this detail?”

“Photographers and tabloids are surely for something…”

“Don’t fuck with me! There was no journalist when I threw his stuff through the window by myself!”

She was walking in her living room, holding her phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The towel that held her wet hair seemed about to fall. She furiously smashed her cigarette in the ashtray before to readjust the belt of her bathrobe. Meanwhile, she continued to berate her agent. She found a new culprit: Jim, the guy who wrote her songs. Charles replied it couldn’t be him because he never talked with journalists.

Somebody was at her door, knocking. She raised her head, wondering who it could be.

“Find me the asshole who talked about my life with journalists. Is that understood? I have to go.”

She didn’t give him time to say a word. She pressed the button before leaving the phone on the couch. She walked to the door and opened it before even looking on the peeping hole to know who was there. She bitterly regretted: Norbert, her future ex-husband stood before her, a huge smile on his lips. She was about to close the door, but had better reflexes. He slowly pushed the door to allow himself in.

“What do you want?” she asked him on a dry tone.

“I need your help, dear.”

She shook her head.

“I don’t have time to waste with you.”

“I saw you on TV last night. Nice performance! But I thought you had Sims in horror.”

“It’s still the case! I went there for my career.”

“So we’re having dinner or even go to the movies?”

Having no intention to discuss about this on the hallway, she beckoned before turning on her heal and heading to the living room. He closed the door behind him.

“Well I had to say something,” she finally said to him.

“I was sure you’d find something.”

She turned to him and crossed her arms over her chest and sighed.

“I thought you needed my help. I really don’t intend to do it, but I’m curious. What is it?”

He put one knee before her and took her hand.

“Give me a second chance, Madeline.”

“Are you serious? You want a second chance to ruin my career? I have no intention to do it again because you’ve almost succeeded! Don’t count on me, Norbert. Our love story ended the day your stuff fled out the window, remember?”

“I never wanted to ruin your career!”

She looked at him with contempt.

“Don’t ever come here again. Get out.”

“Listen to me…”

“How did you find where my new apartment was?”

“I have contacts, darling. And I knew you’d be here as you spend time at your place before leaving the city for the rest of the tour.”

“Oh! I see you have actually watched the show.”

He smiled.

“Madeline, you must give me another chance. Please…”

“It’s out of the question. I have no place or time for idiots like you, anyway.”

“You and your stupid career!”

“It’ll be always more important than you, anyway.”

“I’m just asking two minutes…”

“Get out of my apartment!”

“But you don’t understand. You MUST listen to me!”

“I don’t want to, Norbert. You know where the door is located. So get out of my house and don’t ever come back again.”

He sighed before heading toward the door. He took one last look before closing the door. She quickly locked it before pulling the towel holding her hair and throwing it across the room, screaming with rage. She returned to the living room and lit a cigarette before dropping onto the sofa.

* * * * *

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Morris is currently occupied. Do you have an appointment?”

Madeline leaned towards the secretary, a wicked smile on her lips.

“Miss, Charles is my agent.”

“Do you have…”

“And you see, I don’t need an appointment. There’s someone with him in his office?”


The secretary didn’t have time to say something else. Madeline suddenly opened the door before turning back to the young woman.

“Get your eyes checked. He’s alone in his office, poor idiot.”

Then she walked into the room and closed the door behind her. It was very dark in her agent’s office. The blinds were tightly closed. Charles Morris seemed to look out the window despite the blinds, comfortably installed in his black leather chair. Madeline called him out, but her agent didn’t move. Frowning, she walked towards him while telling him she had to go out by the back door of her building. A crowd of reporters was waiting for her and she found it very embarrassing and humiliating. Only the silence gave her an answer. She approached him with a more furious way because he didn’t seem to listen and it made her very angry. She swung the chair and her eyes widened in horror. Charles’s shirt was stained with blood. She saw a gun on the mahogany desk. Madeline didn’t know if it was loaded, but no longer doubted it when she saw the hole between the eyes of her agent. Blood flowed down his face until it reached his shirt which was soaked rapidly. The man’s head was tilted slightly to the right and his mouth was still open. Empty eyes stared at her. She backed up, horrified. She threw glances around her. The murderer may still be here… This idiot said he was not alone. Without thinking for a moment, she took the weapon with trembling hands. It wasn’t the best idea because when the secretary burst into the office, Madeline’s shaking finger pulled the trigger and shot. Panicked, Madeline dropped the weapon on the carpet and ran to the door. She shoved the secretary, already imagining the horrible discovery of the dead body of her boss and started screaming like crazy.

Which happened a few seconds later.

* * * * *

This is crazy! How long he’s been dead? I talked to him only two hours ago. Why did I take the fucking gun? I haven’t done anything! So why did I left like that? She ran to her room to take her travel bags out of the closet. She threw it on the bed before opening the closet. She literally tore the clothes hanging on copper hangers before launching them into her bags. She had to leave the city. She was convinced it was the best solution for the moment. She had to leave while there was still time. But she had to calm down too. She took a deep breath before taking her bags. She walked to the door of her apartment and went down quickly. In the elevator, she tried to look as natural as possible.

In the main lobby, the police talked with the doorman. The officers wanted to know where her apartment was. The young woman opened her mouth, but she hastened to bury a cry of amazement in her throat. She ran to the back door of the building. She didn’t hear the doorman informing the police that the journalists forced her to leave by the back door. The information went to the men stationed behind the building. Madeline uttered a cry of surprise seeing them running towards her. She quickly rushed to the elevator, but the police placed themselves in front of her and handcuffed her, putting her under arrest for the murder of Charles Morris, her agent.

Except they were now have to past the horde of journalists. The flashes of cameras burst all around her. Norbert stood among the journalists. He approached the young woman as he could and whispered something to her ear. Hearing his words, she began to scream and struggle. The officers had trouble taking her to the car and drive her to the interrogation room.

She officially accused of murder. All the evidences were accusing her! Even the silly secretary came to testify against her. She had seen her with the gun in her hands. She shot at her! Madeline burst into tears when she knew her sentence: death by lethal injection. The death penalty was reinstated previous years later because there were too many inmates in prisons and it was too expensive. But the young woman continued to proclaim her innocence. She asked her stupid lawyer to appeal her conviction.

Nothing worked.

In Madeline’s head, the words of Norbert danced in her head. She had told everyone, but nobody believed her. Her entourage was convinced she was guilty of murdering Charles. She had always been niggardly with him, but she didn’t hate him. Sitting in her cell and waiting for her execution, she looked right in front of her, repeating the words whispered to her ear:

“I killed your agent. Now, you can truly say that I ruined your career, MadLy.”


© Copyright 2018 JeCy. All rights reserved.

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