Eleanor pinned him with a steely stare. “You’re having an affair?”
Pierre panted with worry. “In your message you said you knew everything – that you had photographic evidence. How did you find out? We’ve been so careful!”
Joseph waited for Eleanor to reply. She’d only been working on this story for a few hours, so he assumed she’d either been given this information by a colleague, or she’d picked this poor guy at random and sent him a vague message saying she knew ‘everything’, then waited for him to show up and confess. Joseph’s mind ran through his own dealings with the press. Had they ever done this to him? There were two main secrets he was protecting – both concerning Ivan: the perpetual motion device and his fake death. Luckily, Joseph prided himself on being more shrewd than the poor guy in the backseat who was currently begging Eleanor not to ruin his life.
“Perhaps you should’ve thought of that before you started having an affair with your co-star,” Eleanor said.
“I know it’s totally wrong, but me and Jatinder just have this overwhelming attraction to each other.”
Joseph suppressed a chuckle as he realised Eleanor had a natural talent for this. It was her who’d mentioned the ‘co-star’, but Pierre had fallen for it and confessed a name.
Eleanor wrote something down on her notepad. “Jatinder. I see… Hmm… she’s married to that Hollywood actor, isn’t she?”
Pierre wrung his hands. “Arnold Grayson, yeah, that’s right.”
“Yes.” Eleanor smiled kindly at Pierre. “And when did you and Jatinder last have sex?”
“Last night… But I thought you knew that.”
“Just checking you hadn’t seen each other today.” Eleanor reached out and squeezed Pierre on the arm. “Look, it’s going to be okay. I can help you. Alright?”
Pierre’s voice was full of panic. “Is there anything I can do to stop you from printing this? Think of our kids… our careers…”
Eleanor smiled like an amiable cop trying to placate a petty criminal. “I’m sure we can come to some arrangement. I was thinking maybe you could help me gain access to Jatinder’s husband… we could work together to expose her affair… or perhaps he’s at it too? But whatever we do, I’ll try to keep your name out of it. The public would be more interested in him than you, that’s for sure.”
“Yes, yes, anything. Please – I just want what’s best for my kids.”
“Alright. You go back to your wife now and I’ll see what I can come up with. I’ll be in touch.”
Pierre reached out and hugged Eleanor, making Joseph grip the wheel with possessive envy. He relaxed his fists and focused his mind. She wasn’t his. Yet.
Pierre ripped opened the door and fled in the pouring rain back to his own car like a terrified antelope. Eleanor climbed back in the front with Joseph and stared at her notepad.
“That went much better than I could’ve imagined,” she whispered.
Joseph gazed at her. “Feel good now?”
She sighed. “No. I feel terrible. Crappy.”
“That probing technique you used on him – did they teach you that at college?”
“Course not. It was my editor, Gerald Stinger. It’s called ‘blagging’.”
“Gerald Stinger… I know that name.”
“He writes the gossip column for The New York Spin. He’s won the award for Best Gossip Column three years in a row. He’s my new boss.”
“And he coached you how to extract information by giving a guy enough rope to hang himself? That’s terrible, Eleanor.”
“I know. And thank you for calling me ‘Eleanor’.”
Joseph shrugged. “I think it suits you after what I just witnessed. It’s more sinister than ‘Ellie’.”
Eleanor’s anger cracked. “Look, he’s the one cheating on his wife! Don’t you think the world has the right to know?
“Not really… his wife may have the right to know. But the world?”
She huffed and sank back in her seat. “I hate men who cheat – they’re the lowest of the low.”