There is an apocryphal story about an Irish Daily Mail reporter who took on a particularly 'difficult' executive in that paper's early days.

The astonishingly high turnover of staff had led to the executive being warned that if he continued losing people, he would be fired.

Legend has it the reporter got wind of the executive's misfortune, walked into his office and threatened to resign. The reporter walked out again with a considerable pay rise. Schadenfreude – with bells on, baby.

As I say, the yarn is apocryphal. I can't – and won't – attempt to stand it up. It was a measure of the respect for her ballsiness that Gayle Killilea's name was linked to the non-story. For the record, Killilea – who was a gossip columnist with the paper – was not the mythical reporter. I'm merely retelling the piece of gossip to highlight her standing among her peers as "courageously opportunistic".

Killilea has a reputation for being a tough deal-maker who relishes a challenge. When her husband Seán Dunne's €379m plans to transform Ballsbridge went pear-shaped, she opened a supermarket on the former Jury's site. But last week, it looked like Killilea's flair for seeing a good business opportunity had finally hit a wall. She is having trouble recovering $500,000 from the lawyer who administers a trust behind a house in Connecticut to which she has been linked. She had intended to use the money developing property in Chicago. Killilea is now a stateside property developer, you see. She is now also a non-'celebrity', according to her lawyers. Last month, when the Dunnes were linked to a planning-permission row over that house in Connecticut, Killilea issued a statement saying that her "marital affairs, place of residence and finances are not a legitimate matter of public interest".

Well, Gayle, here's some news for you: Yes. They. Are.

When Killilea became a 'personality' journalist, making references to herself in her columns, she gave the public access to her thoughts and the lifestyle she led. When the Sunday Independent gushed about her €1.5m wedding on Aristotle Onassis' yacht, her life was rubberstamped PUBLIC. ("If it was good enough for Jackie Kennedy," Killilea said, "it's good enough for me".) When Killilea posed for pictures with Bertie Ahern and was a guest on his US lecture tour, she reinforced her status as a public figure. In short: Gayle Killilea is a public figure.

Now that the party days are over, Killilea believes her life is not noteworthy. On the contrary, it has become eminently more interesting. It has become truly fascinating since the Irish Independent reported last week that Dunne transferred his company, Mountbrook USA, to Killilea over the Christmas period. It's also thrown up exceedingly interesting questions such as: "Where did that €500k come from, Gayle, given that some of your hubby's loans are in Nama and you're no longer a hackette?"

I'm not suggesting wrongdoing by the Dunnes, but the public is entitled to be curious about their life now, considering they whetted its appetite during the boom.

But it's not just the Dunnes who arouse curiosity. Think of the other developer couples who value their privacy now. Think of the wives listed on papers drawn-up to transfer homes, land, etc, into their names prior to the establishment of Nama.

Dunne transferred his share of a 20-acre site in Goatstown to Killilea in December 2008. Nama developer Paddy Kelly's wife Maureen's name is on the deeds to their Shrewsbury Road home. Gerry Gannon transferred properties into his wife's name in 2009. Other developers, including Bernard McNamara, Joe O'Reilly and Liam Carroll, did likewise with their spouses. I'm not suggesting that these transfers were made to avoid paying debts to Nama. I am just pointing out that the transfers were completed before it was set up.

Two weeks ago, Simon Kelly – son of developer Paddy – said that the public's appetite for developer schadenfreude was "plain old begrudgery". He's right. It is begrudgery.

When you compare the pain we're enduring to the lifestyles still being enjoyed by some developers, it's difficult not to get angry. When I think of the Gannons loading their car at Brown Thomas, I think of December's 5,200 new names on the live register. When I remember the report saying Kelly's dad planned to spend
Christmas in Hawaii, I think of Bank of Ireland screwing customers with new charges. Then, when some good news finally comes along, I cling to it to offset that anger. News, for
example, that Gayle Killilea is having money problems in the US.

Schadenfreude. Isn't it a wonderful word?

dkenny@tribune.ie