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

native. Her husband, Dr. Charles Dossier, has been taken into custody. The couple's two children, ages five and
seven, are in the care of their maternal grandparents. At shortly after eight A.m. this morning, this quiet, affluent home
erupted with gunfire."
Deanna steadied herself as the camera panned the trim two-story dwelling behind her. She continued her report,
staring straight at the lens, ignoring the crowd that gathered, the other news teams doing their stand-ups, the sweet
spring breeze that carried the poignant scent of hyacinth.
Her voice was steady, suitably detached. But her eyes were filled with swirling emotion.
"At eight-fifteen A.m., police responded to reports of gunfire, and Lois Dossier was pronounced dead on the scene.
According to neighbors, Mrs. Dossier was a devoted mother who took an active interest in community projects. She
was well liked and well respected. Among her closest friends was her next-door neighbor, Bess Pierson, who reported
the disturbance to the police." Deanna turned to the woman at her side, who was dressed in purple sweats. "Mrs.
Pierson, to your knowledge, was there any violence in the Dossier household before this morning?"
"Yes--no. I never thought he would hurt her. I still can't believe it." The camera zoomed in on the swollen, tear-
streaked face of a woman



pale with shock. "She was my closest friend. We've lived next door to each other for six years. Our children play
together."
Tears began to spill over. Despising herself, Deanna clutched the woman's hand with her free one, and continued.
"Knowing both Lois and Charles Dossier, do you agree with the police that this tragedy was a result of a domestic
dispute that spiraled out of control?"
"I don't know what to think. I know they were having marital problems. There were fights, shouting matches." The
woman stared into the void, shell-shocked. "Lois told me she wanted to get Chuck to go into counseling with her, but
he wouldn't." She began to sob now, one hand covering her eyes. "He wouldn't, and now she's gone. Oh God, she
was like my sister."
"Cut," Deanna snapped, then wrapped her arm around Mrs. Pierson's shoulders. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You
shouldn't be out here now."
"I keep thinking this is a dream. That it can't be real."
"Is there somewhere you can go? A friend or a relative?" Deanna scanned the trim yard, crowded with curious
neighbors and determined reporters. A few feet to the left another crew was rolling tape. The reporter kept blowing the
takes, laughing at his own twisting tongue. "Things aren't going to quiet down here for a while."
"Yes." After a last, sobbing breath, Mrs. Pierson wiped at her eyes. "We were going to the movies tonight," she said,
then turned and dashed away.
"God." Deanna watched as other reporters stabbed their microphones toward the fleeing woman.
"Your heart bleeds too much," her cameraman commented.
"Shut up, Joe." She pulled herself in, drew a breath. Her heart might have been bleeding, but she couldn't let it affect
her judgment. Her job was to give a clear, concise report, to inform and to give the viewer a visual that would make an
impact.
"Let's finish it. We want it for Midday. Zoom up to the bedroom window, then come back to me. Make sure you get
the hyacinths and daffodils in frame, and the kid's red wagon. Got it?"



Joe studied the scene, the White
Sox fielder's cap perched on his wiry brown hair tipped down to shade his eyes. He could already see the pictures,
cut, framed, edited. He squinted, nodded. Muscles bunched under his sweatshirt as he hefted the camera. "Ready
when you are."
"Then in three, two, one." She waited a beat while the camera zoomed in, panned down. "Lois Dossier's violent
death has left this quiet community rocked. While her friends and family ask why, Dr. Charles Dossier is being held