Ambrosia_64
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jul 21, 2011
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Leah looked much the same as she always did-black pants, loose white mens shirt, trademark boots and red lipstick. Her dark red hair was caught in its usual low ponytail over her shoulder. The only real change in attire was her jacket-she had traded the leather bomber jacket for a puffy unisex coat, “Police” stitched in over the right breast, her badge not around her neck but pinned on the unzipped coat on the opposite side. The upper arm of one of the sleeves bore the department’s yellow shield and the scales of justice. Her service weapon was visibly holstered on the front of one curved hip, rather than the usual concealed shoulder holster.
She looked like a cop. One could easily imagine her in her old uniform, back in her beat days-the leggy officer must have been a sight in it. She looked serious but assured, eyes sweeping the assembled press as she spoke. The redhead appeared to review her notes from time to time-but the papers on the podium were, in fact, random instructions to one of the department’s rolling televisions and a projector.
Leah was a fly by the seat of her pants kind of woman-she knew what she was here to say, here to do. She hated talking to the press, but you would never know it. It wasn’t that she was nervous about public speaking-far from it-she just had better things to do. Fucking Samson. On the plus side, the commissioner wouldn’t bitch about resources used on the case, for a while.
In the brighter lighting of the room and especially with the occasional flashes of cameras, the flecks of green in her eyes nearly overpowered the amber hazel of the irises-they moved from person to person, as if she were speaking to each reporter individually.
“-considering the sexuality of our victims as a factor, it is unknown at this time whether the third victim fits this profile or not, or whether these crimes were motivated as such.” Leah finished evasively but smoothly, careful not to have the case branded before it could gain attention. She saw Morgan-eyes flicking to the doctor, that nod-perfect!
“How can you be sure these crimes are related?” A male reporter asked, good timing.
“Each victim was dosed on the same cocktail of over the counter medications, a combination meant to subdue and even murder, not recreation. The three men were also found inside or directly outside of the club. We know how the perpetrator is killing, but not why, or how many more victims are possibly out there. They’re working very clean thus far.”
“How can the people protect themselves?”
“Go out in groups and use the buddy system. Someone should always know where you are going, with who, and when you expect to be back. Don’t leave your drink unattended and don’t accept open drinks from strangers. Be safe, be smart, and be cautious around new friends. Anyone with any information should call the police tip hotline.”
She answered a few more questions with her usual confident charisma and then stepped down, allowing Piquette to take over the conference with public assurances that the police were giving the crimes their full attention.
It went over rather well, though Leah didn’t get a chance to talk to the doctor and her good timing-Piquette wanted a war room meeting about Leah’s next steps and what she would need from him.
//////////////////////////////////////
The press conference was a success-the false article was dropped to the bottom of search results and the accurate information-at least what was made public-was out there. There was a nice article about the victims in one outlet, and an article about the change in the first victim's casefile-the original accidental ruling changed to homicide. The murders were covered and the dangers of clubbing were here and there-and while a few publications ran with the "gay murders" angle, most did not.
Leah had successfully navigated the case out of those waters, for now, and was herself the subject of an article or two, discussing her career and the high profile cases she had solved previously.
“That was impressively good timing, Doc.” Leah said almost as soon as she stepped through the door. “Both for the press and for my meeting with the Commissioner. He’s fully on board for now, so that’s a battle I don’t have to keep fighting. You got the report? I’ve got a quick minute to give it a look.”
She looked like a cop. One could easily imagine her in her old uniform, back in her beat days-the leggy officer must have been a sight in it. She looked serious but assured, eyes sweeping the assembled press as she spoke. The redhead appeared to review her notes from time to time-but the papers on the podium were, in fact, random instructions to one of the department’s rolling televisions and a projector.
Leah was a fly by the seat of her pants kind of woman-she knew what she was here to say, here to do. She hated talking to the press, but you would never know it. It wasn’t that she was nervous about public speaking-far from it-she just had better things to do. Fucking Samson. On the plus side, the commissioner wouldn’t bitch about resources used on the case, for a while.
In the brighter lighting of the room and especially with the occasional flashes of cameras, the flecks of green in her eyes nearly overpowered the amber hazel of the irises-they moved from person to person, as if she were speaking to each reporter individually.
“-considering the sexuality of our victims as a factor, it is unknown at this time whether the third victim fits this profile or not, or whether these crimes were motivated as such.” Leah finished evasively but smoothly, careful not to have the case branded before it could gain attention. She saw Morgan-eyes flicking to the doctor, that nod-perfect!
“How can you be sure these crimes are related?” A male reporter asked, good timing.
“Each victim was dosed on the same cocktail of over the counter medications, a combination meant to subdue and even murder, not recreation. The three men were also found inside or directly outside of the club. We know how the perpetrator is killing, but not why, or how many more victims are possibly out there. They’re working very clean thus far.”
“How can the people protect themselves?”
“Go out in groups and use the buddy system. Someone should always know where you are going, with who, and when you expect to be back. Don’t leave your drink unattended and don’t accept open drinks from strangers. Be safe, be smart, and be cautious around new friends. Anyone with any information should call the police tip hotline.”
She answered a few more questions with her usual confident charisma and then stepped down, allowing Piquette to take over the conference with public assurances that the police were giving the crimes their full attention.
It went over rather well, though Leah didn’t get a chance to talk to the doctor and her good timing-Piquette wanted a war room meeting about Leah’s next steps and what she would need from him.
//////////////////////////////////////
The press conference was a success-the false article was dropped to the bottom of search results and the accurate information-at least what was made public-was out there. There was a nice article about the victims in one outlet, and an article about the change in the first victim's casefile-the original accidental ruling changed to homicide. The murders were covered and the dangers of clubbing were here and there-and while a few publications ran with the "gay murders" angle, most did not.
Leah had successfully navigated the case out of those waters, for now, and was herself the subject of an article or two, discussing her career and the high profile cases she had solved previously.
“That was impressively good timing, Doc.” Leah said almost as soon as she stepped through the door. “Both for the press and for my meeting with the Commissioner. He’s fully on board for now, so that’s a battle I don’t have to keep fighting. You got the report? I’ve got a quick minute to give it a look.”
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