Someone Else's Husband(82)
“I know. But it’s more complicated than that.”
“I don’t think it—”
“I signed an NDA,” I plunge ahead, before he can respond. “I took four hundred and fifty thousand dollars in return for never talking about what happened between us at your parents’ house, or after. I’m not supposed to ever mention his name in any context.”
Noah crosses his arms. “What are you talking about?”
“I told you that his wife found out, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember that,” he says, and he seems so confused. But only for a beat. “Holy shit. Your ‘inheritance’ from your great aunt.” He seems hurt as he looks around my apartment like he’s tabulating the cost of all my things.
“I was embarrassed, Noah.” My face feels hot.
Noah is on his feet now. “So you lied to me for more than twenty years—because you were embarrassed?” He is really, really angry. Of course he is.
“I didn’t lie,” I lie.
Noah paces, shaking his head. I can practically see him flipping through a catalog of all the variations of lies I’ve told him over the years.
“I’m sorry. I was seventeen, Noah, and I was confused and upset and…”
“No, no, no.” His voice is icy. “Because what about last week and last year and the year before that?” he asks, his eyes glassy. There is sadness beneath the anger. “Were you young and confused then, too? I’ve risked my marriage to be there for you, Frankie. Time and again. And you’ve been— I don’t even know who you are.”
I search his eyes for a way in. He always leaves a crack for forgiveness. “I’m sorry, Noah,” I say. “I am so sorry.” Because what else is there to say?
But it’s clear something is broken between us. “Me, too, Frankie,” he says on his way out the door. “Me, too.”
Grand Jury Transcript
Testimony of Noah King
Conducted by Abigail Hoffman, Assistant District Attorney
November 27
Q. What is your relationship to Frankie Callahan?
A. We’re friends. I’m one of her best friends. From college.
Q. Did Ms. Callahan speak to you about her trip to Africa?
A. Yes.
Q. What did she tell you?
A. A lot of different things. It was a big trip.
Q. Could you be slightly more specific, Mr. King? What did Ms. Callahan say about Mr. Falk?
A. She talked about Richard, yes. They had a connection that was pretty intense for Frankie.
Q. What kind of connection?
A. A romantic one.
Q. And that ended in Africa?
A. No.
Q. They had a romantic relationship when they returned to New York?
A. Not a relationship, no. Nothing happened.
Q. But they saw each other?
A. Yes, coffee and dinner. That kind of thing.
Q. Then how do you know there wasn’t physical intimacy?
A. Frankie would have told me.
Q. Did she tell you about the NDA she signed with Senator Foley?
A. I knew what had happened. But not about the agreement until recently.
Q. So Ms. Callahan lied to you?
A. It wasn’t a lie. She never lied about it.
Q. Did she tell you that she’d been to Mr. Falk’s apartment? We have video of her there on the morning of September 10th in her pajamas.
A. He videotaped her?
Q. The video is from the lobby.
A. She was in the lobby in her pajamas? That doesn’t even make sense.
Q. We agree, Mr. King. It doesn’t make any sense at all.
After
Gretchen
September 16
Gretchen felt lightheaded by the time Sam dropped her off downtown. It was official: The news had hit the papers. She’d struggled to keep her composure as she scrolled quickly through article after article, surveying the extent of the damage. Mercifully, the details were still pretty vague, pending notification of Frankie’s family maybe, which was apparently difficult given her mother’s health situation. Man Arrested for Brutal Girlfriend Slaying, a small mention in the New York Post. But the other articles didn’t jump to the same conclusions. Young Woman Murdered in East Village. Richard’s name wasn’t anywhere, either, thank God. Scotty had a PR person doing preemptive damage control; that was probably also the reason for the press’s continued restraint. But they weren’t going to hold off forever. Richard had been arraigned now. The clock was ticking.
“Thank you, Sam,” she said. “If you can stay in the neighborhood, I’ll text when I’m done.”
“I’ll be right here, Mrs. Falk, if you need anything.” And the way he said it—she was so grateful for the kindness of people like Sam, standing by them.
Gretchen took a few steadying breaths as she walked around the corner to Ludlow Coffee Supply. She didn’t want Sam to see where she was headed; what if he had dropped Richard in the exact same spot to meet Frankie? What if Sam had seen them together? Could Frankie have been in their car?
No, Richard wouldn’t do that, she assured herself. But then he’d already done things that she would have sworn he was not capable of, hadn’t he?
* * *