Popcorn

Chapter TwentySeven

Down on the lawn the news reporters were repeating over and over again what little information that they had on the situation: ‘… the Oscarwinner… the Mall Murderers… the beautiful model/actress… the cute teen… the estranged wife…’

Their reports were punctuated on air by rerun footage from the previous night: Bruce on the red carpet… Bruce, standing on legs of fire, accepting his Oscar… Bruce dancing with Brooke at the Bosom Ball.

Then it was ‘back to the studio’, where the anchor men and women solemnly repeated the whole thing ‘for those of you who’ve just joined us’: ‘… the Oscarwinner… the Mall Murderers… the beautiful model/actress… the cute teen… the estranged wife…’

After this, the studio anchors threw back to the reporters on the ground. ‘And let’s go back to the Delamitri mansion, to see if there are any further developments.’

‘There have as yet been no further developments,’ replied the reporters on the ground. ‘All I can tell you is… the Oscarwinner… the Mall Murderers… the beautiful model/actress… the cute teen… the estranged wife…’

‘In that case,’ said the studio anchors, ‘let’s turn now to our panel of criminal psychologists and showbusiness experts.’

In TV studios all over LA, and indeed all over the country, hastily summoned ‘experts’ were bundled into their seats, having been hurriedly powdered down, miked up and handed their cheques.

‘Exactly what in your opinion is going on in there?’ the studio anchor asked the experts gravely.

‘Well, this is a classic case,’ the experts chorused, ‘many aspects of which are discussed in my latest book, which is of course available in all good bookshops.’