Brian Freemantle - The Namedropper

‘A matter of weeks.’

‘How many weeks?’

‘Four. Five.’

‘How did you meet?’

‘At a party, in Manhattan.’

‘I asked you how?’

‘Your honour!’ interjected Bartle, once more. ‘What possible relevance has this to do with the current case?’

‘Mr Reid?’ invited Pullinger.

‘If I am allowed to continue, with the expectation of receiving the toxicology and blood analysis findings upon the deceased Ms Borowski, I hope to show that it is of crucial importance to the outcome of this matter, particularly the transmission of disease,’ insisted Reid.

‘Then it will continue,’ decided Pullinger.

‘I asked you how you met Ms Borowski,’ repeated Reid.

‘I told you, at a party.’

‘That was where you met her. How?

‘I was introduced to her, by a mutual friend.’

‘Towards the end of March, last year?’

‘Yes,’ replied Appleton, too quickly.

‘Was that when your affair began, that night?’

Appleton re-gripped the edge of the witness stand. ‘It might have been.’

‘ Might have been! Was it or wasn’t it, Mr Appleton?’

‘I think it was.’

‘You think it was,’ echoed Reid. ‘You did know Ms Borowski before you were formally introduced to her at the end of March last year, didn’t you?’

‘I didn’t know her,’ insisted Appleton.

‘But you’d seen her before? Been to parties where she was?’

‘I may have done.’

‘May have done,’ echoed Reid again, going unerringly into his tumbled papers to bring out a neatly prepared, individually separated batch of papers, beckoning the usher to give him the majority to distribute, but personally delivering their packages to Beckwith, Bartle and Wolfson. ‘I would ask that these be placed before the jury and yourself, your honour.’

‘These are copies of newspaper cuttings!’ objected Bartle. ‘These can’t be admissible!’

‘What’s the purpose of this introduction, Mr Reid?’ demanded the judge, stopping the usher before he reached the jury box.

‘They feature photographs of Ms Borowski, in the diaries and social columns of certain New York newspapers, some with caption references to her which might give some indication of the occupation of which Mr Appleton appears unsure,’ said Reid.

‘I object to their introduction,’ insisted Bartle. ‘This court was given no indication or warning of their being presented.’

‘We’ve already touched upon your dismissal of Mr Reid’s enquiries concerning this lady,’ reminded Pullinger. ‘I will not recess the court but read them here at the bench. Attorneys will read them, too, but not yet the clients they represent or the jury.’

There were shuffles throughout the court, mostly from the jury. Alyce remained head bent. Behind her, Dr Harding was leaning solicitously forward.

The three lawyers were still reading when Pullinger finished. He said, ‘Mr Beckwith?’

‘I have no objection to their introduction,’ replied Jordan’s attorney.

‘Mr Wolfson?’

‘I have no objection,’ said the man.

‘I will allow them, Mr Bartle, but warn you, Mr Reid, to be extremely careful in whatever it is you have to say,’ ruled the judge. ‘The usher will deliver the copies to the jury and to the plantiff.’

‘From the photographs Ms Borowski was obviously an extremely attractive girl, Mr Appleton?’

‘Yes,’ agreed Appleton. The copies fluttered slightly from the tremor in the man’s hand.

‘In the copy number one, in the New York Daily News, Ms Borowski’s age is given as twenty-three. Was that how old she was?’

‘I did not know her age.’

‘Or her occupation,’ reminded Reid. ‘If she was twenty-three that would make her younger than you by almost twenty years?’

‘Your honour!’ protested Bartle.

‘Quite so,’ agreed the judge. ‘Careful, Mr Reid.’

‘My apologies, your honour,’ said Reid, with no obvious apology in his voice.

‘The Daily News suggests an occupation for Ms Borowski, does it not? On the marked line it describes her as “a party girl”, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘And there is something similar in the New York Observer, isn’t there? On the marked line of the cutting, numbered two, she is described as “a regular party person”, isn’t she?’

‘Yes.’

‘What do you take “party girl” and “regular party person” to mean, Mr Appleton?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t think it means anything.’

‘That is you in the background of the cutting from the New York Observer, isn’t it, Mr Appleton?’

‘Yes.’

‘The date of that cutting is February eighth last year, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you were already aware of Ms Borowski before you formally met in March?’

‘Yes.’

‘And that affair with party girl Sharon Borowski began the first time you met her in late March, presumably at yet another party?’

‘Yes.’

‘Would you agree with me that “an affair” is a consensual relationship – a sexual attraction – between two people?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘You suppose so,’ mocked Reid. ‘You had sex with Ms Borowski on the first night of your meeting, that’s right, isn’t it?’

‘I’ve already told you that I did,’ said Appleton, his temper flaring for the first time.

‘Did you envisage a long-term relationship?’

‘I do not intend letting this continue much longer, Mr Reid,’ warned the judge.

‘I…’ started Appleton, but stopped. Then he said, ‘I don’t know.’

‘But you do know – remember – that you continued to sleep with Ms Borowski – and have sex with her – over the course of four or five weeks?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you pay to sleep with Sharon Borowsk, the regular party girl?’

Bartle rose to protest yet again but before he could Appleton said, loudly, ‘No, I did not pay her! She was not a hooker!’

As Bartle sat, Pullinger said, ‘Have we laboured this point sufficiently, Mr Reid?’

‘I have just one further question on this particular matter, your honour. Tell the court, sworn under oath as you are to tell the truth, Mr Appleton, did you give Sharon Borowski any gifts? Jewellery, for instance? A bangle, perhaps?’

‘I think…’ stumbled Appleton. ‘I gave her a bracelet, that’s all.’

‘Let me move on to another part of your evidence-in-chief,’ said Reid. ‘You were working hard to establish your new business – despite apparently having time to party – your wife was living in the country, which she preferred but you were trying for a baby, were you not?’

‘Yes.’

‘But without success?’

‘Yes.’

‘Were you saddened, disappointed, that your wife did not conceive?’

‘Yes.’

‘Your wife suggested adoption, did she not?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you argued against that. Why?’

‘I wanted our child to be biologically ours. To carry the bloodline of our two families. It was important.’

‘Your wife also underwent medical examinations and tests to discover if there were some medical or physical reason why she was incapable of bearing children, did she not?’

Appleton had precariously lodged the newspaper cuttings on the corner of the witness stand and in reaching out yet again to grip its edge he knocked them off. Some fell inside, others outside, of the box. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, stooping to recover those inside as the usher collected those beyond. Having retrieved what he could Appleton stood uncertainly with them in his hand until the usher reached out to take them.

‘Mr Appleton?’ urged Reid.

‘Yes,’ agreed Appleton, rigidly maintaining his minimal script.