The vampire threw his new acquaintance a quick smile then turned his attention back to the matte screen of the television. “Dr. Catherine Blacke,” the caption now read.
He looked at the odd spelling of her last name, trying to make sense of the extra letter. Then her photo slid across the screen and shrank to make room for a list of Dr. Blacke’s credentials.
Of course, he smiled to himself. She’s Russian. Intrigued, he stretched across the old wood bar and fumbled for the narrow shelf he knew held the television’s remote control. His hand found its target and he sat back down and aimed the black plastic device at the screen. It took several stabs at the volume button to get it loud enough to slice through the noise of the rowdy evening crowd.
“Well, an insanity defense is always a long shot,” said a bald man in a navy blue suit. “I can’t imagine what they hope to accomplish by bringing in this particular doctor.”
“According to what we’ve learned about her,” said the bleach-blond anchor, “she claims that delusions like this are caused by germs. She’s written several papers where she claims she cured some.”
“Again,” said the man, “I think those kinds of outlandish claims can only hurt the defense.”