JК
Cerulean Sins :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 113 из 352We were actuallyworking our way through the crowd, almost to the yellow tape before one of the reporters spotted me.
The tape recorder was shoved at me, "Ms. Blake, why are you here, was the murdered woman a vampire victim?"
Fuck, if I just said, no comment, they'd be printing possible vampire kill all over this one. "I'm called in on a lot of preternaturally related crime, Mr. Miller, isn't it? Not just vampires."
He was happy I'd remembered his name. Most people love to have you remember their names. "So it wasn't a vampire kill."
Shit. "I haven't been up to the crime scene yet, Mr. Miller, I don't know any more than you do."
The reporters closed like a fist around me. There was a big shoulder cam on us now. We'd make the noon news if nothing more exciting happened.
The questions came from all directions, "Is it a vampire kill? What kind of monster is it? Do you think they'll be more victims?" One woman got in so close that only a death grip on Jason's hand kept us from being separated. "Anita, is this your new boyfriend? Have you dumped Jean-Claude?"
That a reporter would ask that question with a fresh body only yards away said just how bad the media interest in Jean-Claude's personal life had gotten.
Once the question was raised, several more asked similar questions. I did not understand why my personal life was more interesting, or even as interesting, as a murder. It made no sense to me.
If I said Jason was a friend, they'd misconstrue it. If I said he was a bodyguard, they'd plaster the fact that I needed a bodyguard all over the papers. I finally stopped trying to answer questions and held my badge up so the uniformed officer could see it.
He raised the tape to let us inside and then had to push back the press of bodies that tried to follow us through. We walked towards the house to a hail of questions that I ignored. God knew what they'd do with the few things I'd said. It could be anything from the Executioner says, vampire attack, to the Executioner says not a vampire, to my love life. I'd stopped reading the papers, or watching the news, if I thought I might be on. First I hate to watch myself on a moving camera. Second, it always pissed me off. I was not free to discuss an ongoing police investigation, no one was, so the press were left to speculate on what few facts they had. And if Jean-Claude and our love life was the topic of choice, I never wanted to see, or read the coverage.
For some reason being caught in the media feeding frenzy had made me feel shaky again.
The tape recorder was shoved at me, "Ms. Blake, why are you here, was the murdered woman a vampire victim?"
Fuck, if I just said, no comment, they'd be printing possible vampire kill all over this one. "I'm called in on a lot of preternaturally related crime, Mr. Miller, isn't it? Not just vampires."
He was happy I'd remembered his name. Most people love to have you remember their names. "So it wasn't a vampire kill."
Shit. "I haven't been up to the crime scene yet, Mr. Miller, I don't know any more than you do."
The reporters closed like a fist around me. There was a big shoulder cam on us now. We'd make the noon news if nothing more exciting happened.
The questions came from all directions, "Is it a vampire kill? What kind of monster is it? Do you think they'll be more victims?" One woman got in so close that only a death grip on Jason's hand kept us from being separated. "Anita, is this your new boyfriend? Have you dumped Jean-Claude?"
That a reporter would ask that question with a fresh body only yards away said just how bad the media interest in Jean-Claude's personal life had gotten.
Once the question was raised, several more asked similar questions. I did not understand why my personal life was more interesting, or even as interesting, as a murder. It made no sense to me.
If I said Jason was a friend, they'd misconstrue it. If I said he was a bodyguard, they'd plaster the fact that I needed a bodyguard all over the papers. I finally stopped trying to answer questions and held my badge up so the uniformed officer could see it.
He raised the tape to let us inside and then had to push back the press of bodies that tried to follow us through. We walked towards the house to a hail of questions that I ignored. God knew what they'd do with the few things I'd said. It could be anything from the Executioner says, vampire attack, to the Executioner says not a vampire, to my love life. I'd stopped reading the papers, or watching the news, if I thought I might be on. First I hate to watch myself on a moving camera. Second, it always pissed me off. I was not free to discuss an ongoing police investigation, no one was, so the press were left to speculate on what few facts they had. And if Jean-Claude and our love life was the topic of choice, I never wanted to see, or read the coverage.
For some reason being caught in the media feeding frenzy had made me feel shaky again.