"Roberts, Nora - Private Scandals" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts Nora)

"I feel safe in speaking for everyone here when I say you have our support in this. Tax evasion." She rolled her eyes
in disbelief. "They make you sound like Also Capone."
"I really can't talk about it." Deke shuffled his booted feet, tugged at his bola tie. "But nobody's calling it tax evasion."
"Oh." She widened her eyes. "I'm sorry. What are they calling it?"
He shifted uncomfortably on his chair. "It's a disagreement on back taxes."
""Disagreement" is a mild word for it. I realize you can't really discuss this while the matter's under investigation, but I
think it's an outrage. A man like you, who's brought pleasure to millions, for two generations, to be faced with potential
financial ruin because his books weren't in perfect order."
"It's not as bad as all that--"
"But you've had to put your home in Nashville on the market." Her voice dripped sympathy. Her eyes gleamed with it.
"I think the country you've celebrated in your music should show more compassion, more gratitude. Don't you?"
She hit the right button.



"Seems like the tax man doesn't have much to do with the country I've been singing about for twenty-five years."
Deke's mouth thinned, his eyes hardened like agates. "They look at dollar signs. They don't think about how hard a
man's worked. How much he sweats to make something of himself. They just keep slicing at you till most of what's
yours is theirs. They turn honest folk into liars and cheaters."
"You're not saying you cheated on your taxes, are you, Deke?" She smiled guilelessly when he froze. "We'll be back
in a moment," she said to the camera, and waited until the red light blinked off. "I'm sure most of us here have been
squeezed by the IRS, Deke." Turning her back on him, she held up her hands. "We're behind him, aren't we,
audience?"
There was an explosion of applause and cheers that did nothing to erase the look of sickly shock from Deke's face.
"I can't talk about it," he managed. "Can I get some water?"
"We'll put the matter to rest, don't you worry. We'll have time for a few more questions." Angela turned to her
audience again as an assistant rushed out with a glass of water for Deke. "I'm sure Deke would appreciate it if we
avoided any more discussion on this sensitive subject. Let's be sure to give him plenty of applause when we get back
from commercial, and give Deke some time to compose himself."
With this outpouring of support and empathy, she swung back toward the camera. "You're back with Angela's. We
have time for just a couple more questions, but at Deke's request, we'll close the door on any discussion of his tax
situation, as he isn't free to defend himself while the case is still pending."
And of course, when she closed the show moments later, that was exactly the subject on every viewer's mind.
Angela didn't linger among her audience, but joined Deke onstage. "Wonderful show." She took his limp hand in her
firm grasp. "Thank you so much for coming. And the best of luck."
"Thank you." Shell-shocked, he began signing autographs until the assistant producer led him offstage.
"Get me a tape," Angela ordered as she



strode back to her dressing room. "I want to see the last segment." She walked straight to her mirror and smiled at her
own reflection.

Chapter Two

Deanna hated covering tragedies. Intellectually she knew it was her job as a journalist to report the news, and to
interview those who had been wounded by it. She believed, unwaveringly, in the public's right to know. But
emotionally, whenever she pointed a microphone toward grief she felt like the worst kind of voyeur.
"The quiet suburb of Wood Dale was the scene of sudden and violent tragedy this morning. Police suspect that a
domestic dispute resulted in the shooting death of Lois Dossier, thirty-two, an elementary school teacher and Chicago