"Tanya Huff - Victoria Nelson - 01 - Blood Price" - читать интересную книгу автора (Huff Tanya)

The distinctive slam of police boots against tile brought her around, hands held carefully out from her
sides. Police called to a violent murder, finding someone covered in blood standing over the body, could
be excused if they jumped to a conclusion or two.


The situation got chaotic for a few minutes, but fortunately four of the six constables had heard of
Victory Nelson and after apologies had been exchanged all around, they got to work.


. . . my coat over the body, had the driver call the police, and waited. Vicki watched Police Constable
West scribbling madly in his occurrence book and hid a grin. She could remember being that young and
that intense. Barely. When he looked up, she nodded at the body and asked, Do you want to see?


Uh, no! After a second he added, a little sheepishly, That is, we shouldn't disturb anything before
homicide gets here.



Homicide. Vicki's stomach lurched and her mood nosedived. She'd forgotten she wasn't in charge.
Forgotten she was nothing more than a witness-first on the scene and that only because she'd done some
pretty stupid things to get there. The uniforms had made it seem like old times but homicide . . . her
department. No, not hers any longer. She pushed her glasses up her nose with the back of her wrist.


PC West, caught staring, dropped his gaze in confusion. Uh, I don't think anyone would mind if you
cleaned the blood off your hands.


Thanks. Vicki managed a smile but ignored the unasked question. How well she could see, or how little
she could see, was nobody's business but hers. Let another round of rumors start making its way through
the force. If you wouldn't mind grabbing a couple of tissues out of my bag. ...


The young constable dipped a tentative hand into the huge black leather purse and actually looked
relieved when he removed it holding the tissue and still in possession of all his fingers. Vicki's bag had

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been legendary throughout Metro and the boroughs.


Most of the blood on her hands had dried to reddish brown flakes and the little that hadn't the tissue
merely smeared around. She scrubbed at it anyway, feeling rather like Lady MacBeth.

Destroying the evidence?

Celluci, she thought. They had to send Celluci. That bastard always walked too quietly. She and Mike
Celluci had not parted on the best of terms but, by the time she turned to face him, she managed to