Page 165 of Private Lives

Nicholas Collins held up his hands in an exaggerated shrug.

‘What was scandalous about that?’

Bradley paused for a moment.

‘Some of his tenants thought he was a crook. There were local rumours about where he got his money from too. How he was being bankrolled by the Weston crime family. Their financial backing meant he went from a mid-level landlord to a billionaire developer in little over a decade.’

‘They were no more than rumours, though,’ stated Collins matter-of-factly.

Helen was glad he had pointed that out. Jonathon, after all, was their client, and the judge’s patience appeared to be wearing thin.

Dominic Bradley looked uncomfortable.

‘I didn’t have any actual proof they were true, no.’

‘And what did Stateside think of this idea?’ said Collins, cutting him off.

‘Deena told me she’d submitted it to her friend Joanne Green, the commissioning editor. But she’d turned it down because it was too UK-focused. She also said that Spencer, the editor, wouldn’t go for it.’

‘And did Deena give up on the idea?’

‘No. She knew it was a great story.’

Collins looked at Bradley, tilting his head quizzically.

‘You didn’t give up on it either, did you, Mr Bradley? You had an idea that might get Joanne Green to change her mind about the story. A little sweetener, if you like.’

Judge Lazner grumbled, ‘Stick to English, if you please, Mr Collins.’

‘Apologies, m’lud,’ said Nicholas Collins, turning to look at the jury. ‘You offered Miss Green a bribe, didn’t you?’

Helen saw the disapproval cross the faces of the jury.

‘Jo and I cut a deal. I told her that if she made the story happen, I’d make sure the rent-controlled apartment I’d been living in would be turned over to her when my tenancy lapsed.’

‘But did Miss Green have that sort of power with her editor?’ asked Collins innocently.

‘Seeing as she was sleeping with him, I’d say so,’ replied Bradley.

Jasper Jenkins jumped up, his face pink.

‘Hearsay!’ he shouted, looking decidedly angry.

Helen glanced at Spencer Reed, who had a similar look on his face. As well he might, she thought. She had met Spencer’s wife in New York and she hadn’t seemed the sort of woman who would take this revelation lying down.

‘I’m sorry, I’m a little confused,’ said Collins. ‘Weren’t you just telling us that you suggested the Jonathon Balon story to Miss Washington as a way of helping your girlfriend get her foot in the door as a writer? And yet the byline at the bottom of this story reads Ted Francis.’

‘Joanne agreed to commission the story but wanted a London-based writer to do it. ’

‘Who suggested Mr Francis, the author of the piece?’

‘I did.’

‘Why?’

Bradley shifted uncomfortably.

‘Because he knew a lot about Jonathon Balon. And he’s a good journalist.’