...of no comment

After the call they walk towards Kennedy.
Hell, the journalists. Always arrive when its all over and there's nothing to film but afters. That's what my wife keeps complaining about, she says the news is always dead, they're never in on a real crash, nor, of course, on a murder. Though that's lucky for me, don't you agree, otherwise I'd be out of a job. Now sir, keep your cool, I'm gonna walk right through them saying no comment. But your picture'll be in the local papers and news. Just smile and keep mum.
Cameras on shoulders, flashes, an armoury of mikes held out like blunted swords, questions, jostlings, scufflings, hustlings. The two policeman at the door try to hold a passage for the inspector and his witness, who are prevented and pushed, push and prevent and reach the door at last as the cop holds the closest four journalists at strong arm's length. Columbo is experienced, opens the door, shoves Jack in, slips in himself and shuts the door. They're in.


[Textermination, Brooke-Rose, C.]