"Kim Newman - The Serial Murders" - читать интересную книгу автора (Newman Kim)

guard our military secrets."
"Lots better," said Vanessa, from bitter experience.
"The point is to be surprising, see. The whole country had to wait to find out what Golden told Delia to do to
Jockie. But last night, this woman, Della, did exactly the same thing to the real-life Jamie, at the same time
as the programme was going out."
Richard thought about this.
"It's happened before, Jeperson. This case is the Ministerial Disappearances."
"On the Barstows, 'Sir Josiah Shelley' and 'Falmingworth' vanished from a locked cabinet room," said
Vanessa. "Just as, in real life, Sir Joseph Keats and his secretary Farringwell disappeared, scuppering
passage of the Factories Regulation Bill."
"And the City Throat-Cuttings," said Fred. "Prince Ali Hassan was assaulted by that fanatic on the floor of the
stock exchange just when the same thing happened on telly to 'Prince Abu Khazzim.'"
Despite himself, Richard became interested.


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II
"The horse told me to do it," said Della Devyne.
"In your dreams?" prompted Richard.
"No, that was the horse on the telly. It wasn't exactly like that. Nothing was exactly the same. They changed
it just enough to be different. 'Just enough not to be sued,' Jamie always says. Used to say. Oh dear, I'm
sorry. That programme used to drive him mad."
"The Northern Barstows?"
Della nodded. She was being cooperative, going over the whole thing with Richard. He'd interviewed murderers
before and knew the types. The professionals didn't talk at all, just shut up and took their medicine. The
enthusiastic amateurs liked to brag and wanted to see their pictures in the papers. Della fell into a third
category, the escapists. Before the big event, they'd been nagged and nagged about something, either by
other people (not infrequently their victims-to-be), brute circumstances, or a persuasive inner voice.
Ultimately, the only way to make the irritation go away was to reach for a blunt instrument or a bottle of pills.
Such cases were as likely to kill themselves as anyone else: self-murder was an escape too.
Della was in a kind of did-I-really-do-that-oh-I-suppose-I-must-have daze. To Richard's certain knowledge,
inner voices did occasionally turn out to be external entities, human or otherwise.
"You also watch this television series?"
Della shook her head. "Lately, Jamie stopped me, said it would upset me to see what they'd made us out to
be. I always used to follow it though, used to love it, but when they brought in those characters тАж 'Jockie'
and 'Delia'? Well, anyone could tell they were supposed to be us."
"You think the characters were based on you and Jamie?"
"No doubt, is there? They say 'any resemblance with persons living or dead is unintentional,' but they have to,
don't they? By law. Jamie looked into having them up for libel тАж or is it slander? Slander's when it's said out
loud and libel's written down."
"A tricky point," Richard conceded. "It would be written down in the script but said out loud by the cast. Who
to sue, the writer or the actors?"
"It also has to be not true."
Della stopped. She had owned up to killing, but now wanted to hold back.
Richard took her hands and squeezed. He had the sense that in some way this woman was innocent and he
needed to help her.
Price's instincts were good. This was a Diogenes Club case.
"Was it true?" he asked gently, fixing his gaze on her.
"You have lovely eyes," she said, which was nice but not really where he wanted this interview to go. He
faintly heard Fred stifling laughter beyond the mirror.