Page 18
Story: Silent Home
Greenwald glanced at his lawyer again."We were discussing potential projects.I felt I owed her that much, after she didn't get the part."
Sheila paused, considering her words carefully."Mr.Greenwald, I sense you're holding something back."
Morton snorted."Oh?And that's based on what?"
Sheila kept her eyes on Greenwald."Based on the fact that a struggling actress who claimed to have proof of wrongdoing—something related to the production of a film you yourself directed, Mr.Greenwald—was found murdered just last night.A woman you, by your own admission, had a number of secret meetings with."
"I'm hearing a lot of conjecture," Morton said."You care to offer any proof?"
Sheila ignored the lawyer."Whatever she had, Mr.Greenwald," she continued, "it's probably still out there.And when it surfaces—and itwillsurface—you'll want to be on record as having cooperated fully with this investigation."
Greenwald stood abruptly, moving to the window.The silence stretched for nearly a minute.
"Bradley," Morton warned."Don't—"
"During pre-production," he said quietly, still facing the window, "before Claire was cast..."He took a shaky breath."I made a terrible mistake.Jessica and I became… involved."
Morton sighed and rubbed her temples.
"Sexually?"Finn asked.
Greenwald nodded miserably."It was consensual.But I was married at the time.And there were...messages.Photos.Things that would have destroyed my marriage, my career."
"So she was blackmailing you?"Sheila asked.
"Not exactly.She just wanted to act.Really act, not just bit parts in local theater."He rubbed his face."I promised to help her, to mentor her.And I did try.But she became increasingly unstable, demanding."
"The late-night meetings?"
"She would show up unannounced, wanting to rehearse scenes, discuss projects that didn't exist.I tried to let her down gently, but..."
"But?"
"Two weeks ago, she threatened to post everything online.The messages, the photos.Said she'd tell everyone how I'd used her."He paused, halting his momentum.
"And what did you do?"Sheila asked.
"My client's not going to answer that," Morton said.
"He will if he really cared about her.If he really wants justice for her."
"I paid her fifty thousand dollars," Greenwald said in a quiet, defeated voice.He looked suddenly older in the harsh makeup lights.
Morton interjected, "Which we can document with bank records."She knew how to pivot quickly.
"And yes, I did really care about her," Greenwald continued."More than you can imagine."
"Did it work?"Sheila asked."The money?"
"For a while.Then, last week, she said she had something bigger."Greenwald's hands twisted in his lap."She was becoming erratic, paranoid.Said she'd found proof of corruption in the industry, that powerful people were involved.None of it made sense."
"Where were you last night?"Finn asked."Between eight and ten PM?"
"At the Mountain View Hotel," Greenwald said quickly."In a production meeting for tonight's premiere.At least twenty people can verify that.We ordered dinner in, worked until after midnight."
"Can you provide names?"
Morton pulled out her phone."I'll email you a complete list of attendees, along with the hotel's security footage showing my client never left the building."
Sheila paused, considering her words carefully."Mr.Greenwald, I sense you're holding something back."
Morton snorted."Oh?And that's based on what?"
Sheila kept her eyes on Greenwald."Based on the fact that a struggling actress who claimed to have proof of wrongdoing—something related to the production of a film you yourself directed, Mr.Greenwald—was found murdered just last night.A woman you, by your own admission, had a number of secret meetings with."
"I'm hearing a lot of conjecture," Morton said."You care to offer any proof?"
Sheila ignored the lawyer."Whatever she had, Mr.Greenwald," she continued, "it's probably still out there.And when it surfaces—and itwillsurface—you'll want to be on record as having cooperated fully with this investigation."
Greenwald stood abruptly, moving to the window.The silence stretched for nearly a minute.
"Bradley," Morton warned."Don't—"
"During pre-production," he said quietly, still facing the window, "before Claire was cast..."He took a shaky breath."I made a terrible mistake.Jessica and I became… involved."
Morton sighed and rubbed her temples.
"Sexually?"Finn asked.
Greenwald nodded miserably."It was consensual.But I was married at the time.And there were...messages.Photos.Things that would have destroyed my marriage, my career."
"So she was blackmailing you?"Sheila asked.
"Not exactly.She just wanted to act.Really act, not just bit parts in local theater."He rubbed his face."I promised to help her, to mentor her.And I did try.But she became increasingly unstable, demanding."
"The late-night meetings?"
"She would show up unannounced, wanting to rehearse scenes, discuss projects that didn't exist.I tried to let her down gently, but..."
"But?"
"Two weeks ago, she threatened to post everything online.The messages, the photos.Said she'd tell everyone how I'd used her."He paused, halting his momentum.
"And what did you do?"Sheila asked.
"My client's not going to answer that," Morton said.
"He will if he really cared about her.If he really wants justice for her."
"I paid her fifty thousand dollars," Greenwald said in a quiet, defeated voice.He looked suddenly older in the harsh makeup lights.
Morton interjected, "Which we can document with bank records."She knew how to pivot quickly.
"And yes, I did really care about her," Greenwald continued."More than you can imagine."
"Did it work?"Sheila asked."The money?"
"For a while.Then, last week, she said she had something bigger."Greenwald's hands twisted in his lap."She was becoming erratic, paranoid.Said she'd found proof of corruption in the industry, that powerful people were involved.None of it made sense."
"Where were you last night?"Finn asked."Between eight and ten PM?"
"At the Mountain View Hotel," Greenwald said quickly."In a production meeting for tonight's premiere.At least twenty people can verify that.We ordered dinner in, worked until after midnight."
"Can you provide names?"
Morton pulled out her phone."I'll email you a complete list of attendees, along with the hotel's security footage showing my client never left the building."
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