I shook my head and slapped his arm. "You are such a pain in the ass, Zerbrowski."
"It's good to be appreciated," he said.
The anger was fading, and with it the spurt of energy. I leaned my head against his shoulder. "Get me outside before I start feeling bad again. I'll go see the second crime scene."
He put his arm around my shoulders and gave me half a hug. "That's my little federal marshal."
I raised my head. "Don't push it, Zerbrowski."
"Can't help myself, sorry."
I sighed. "You're right, you can't help yourself. Forget I said anything, keep saying witty irritating things as you walk me back to Jason."
He started me across the room, arm still across my shoulders. "How did you end up with a werewolf stripper as your driver for the day?"
"Just lucky I guess."
19
The second scene was in Chesterfield, which had been a hot address for the up-and-comers before most of the money moved even farther out to Wildwood and beyond. The neighborhood that Jason drove us through was a sharp contrast to the big isolated houses we'd just seen. This was middle-class, middle America, backbone of the nation kind of neighborhood. There are thousands of subdivisions exactly like it. Except in this one, not all the houses were identical. They were still too close together and had a sameness about them, as if a hive mind had designed them all, but some were two-story, some only one, some brick, some not. Only the garage seemed to be the same on all of them, as if the architect wasn't willing to compromise on that one feature.
There were medium sized trees in the yards, which meant the area was over ten years old. It takes time to grow trees.
I saw the giant antenna of the news van before I saw the police cars. "Shit."
"What?" Jason asked.
"The reporters are already here."
He glanced up. "How do you know?"
"Have you never seen a news van with one of those big antennas?"
"I guess not."
"Lucky you," I said.
Probably because of the news van, the police had blocked the street. When someone had time, they'd probably bring up those official-looking sawhorses. Right now they had a police cruiser, a uniformed officer leaning against it, and yellow do-not-cross tape strung from mailbox to mailbox across the entire street.
There were two local news vans and a handful of print media. You can always tell print, because they have the still cameras and no microphones. Though they will shove tape recorders in your face.
We had to park about half a block away because of them. When the engine shut off, Jason asked, "How did they hear about it so quickly?"
"One of the neighbors called it in, or one of the news vans was close for something else. Once something hits the police scanners, the reporters know about it."
"Why weren't there reporters at the first scene?"
"The first one was more isolated, harder to get to, and still make your deadline. Or there could be a local celebrity involved here, or it's just better copy."
"Better copy?" he asked.
"More sensational." In my own head, I wondered how you could get much more sensational than having someone nailed to their living room wall, but of course, those kinds of details weren't released to the media, not if it could be kept under wraps.
I undid my seat belt and put a hand on the door handle. "Getting through the press is going to be the first hurdle here. I'm something of a local celebrity now, myself, whether I like it or not."
"The Master of the City's lady love," Jason said, smiling.
"I don't think anyone's been that polite," I said, "but, yeah. Though today they'll be more interested in the murder. They'll be asking me questions about that, not Jean-Claude."
"You seem to be feeling some better," Jason said.
"I am, not sure why."
"Maybe whatever caused the bad reaction is fading."
I nodded. "Maybe."
"Are we going to get out of the car, or are we going to watch from here?"
I sighed. "Getting out, getting out."
Jason opened his door and was around to my side before I could get more than one foot on the ground. Today I let him help me. I was feeling better, but I still wasn't at my best. I'd hate to refuse help and then fall flat on my face. I was really trying to tone down the machismo today. Mine, not Jason's.
I put my hand on Jason's arm, and we started down the sidewalk towards the crowd. There were lots of people, and most of them weren't reporters. The first murder scene had been isolated, no neighbors close enough to walk out their doors and see the show. But this neighborhood was thick with houses, so we had a crowd.
I had my badge around my neck on its little cord, I hadn't taken it off from the last scene. Now that I was feeling better, it occurred to me that Jason's arm was in the way if I had to go for the gun under my left arm. I didn't want him on my right side, because that was my gun hand, but even on my left he was in the way, a little at least.