Breeze had made the call from the Alfred Hospital rooftop. Riley was waiting for him in the same spot. It was darker and windier than the previous evening, succeeding in altering his appearance where the same black suit and blue striped tie did not. Was his face tighter too? It was always like that when he was waiting for word rather than imparting it.
‘You’ve got a suspect?’ He asked, his brown leather Tavechi briefcase was in a headlock waiting for an answer.
‘You know Don “Tentative” Jenkins?’ asked Breeze.
‘The union thug? Yeah, I know him. He’s not my image of a Sapien.’
‘He’s given us a tip.’
‘That would be a first.’
‘He wants to avenge Benzona Masoo without getting his hands dirty.’
‘That doesn’t sound right either.’
‘Maybe it does. Masoo had a particularly nasty client. One of us.’
‘A cop?’
‘Apparently so.’
As Riley mulled over this, the expensive leather of his briefcase got an even greater squeeze.
‘Masoo bragged about her,’ Breeze added. ‘Unfortunately, he left out the name.’
‘And you think the murderer allowed herself to be tattooed by her victim until she finally snapped and diced him up? Sounds pretty sick.’
‘Doesn’t it.’
‘Is Furn out looking for her?’
‘I’m not sure what he’s looking for. But an incomplete satanic tattoo down low on one of our sisters is unlikely. We’ll need a game plan for that.’
‘Azu will be the most qualified to deal with it. I’ll have the military provide her with a pair of garment busters.’
‘X-ray glasses?’ Breeze pondered the idea. ‘You’d better request a box of them. It’s the only lead we’ve got.’
‘If word gets out about it, we’ll be out of a job good and proper.’
‘And possibly more than that. Until the Sapiens came along I always left it to Forensics to worry about cause of death.’
Riley scratched at the lifeline on his palm like it was a scratchy ticket and made up his mind. ‘We’re not doctors but examining the female form in this case will qualify as a life saving measure. Be at HQ first thing in the morning.’
Breeze mollified his reaction to a simple nod of the head.
‘So, you really don’t know where Furn is?’ asked Riley curtly.
‘Working the case.’
‘Case of Victorian Bitter?’
Breeze replied with a scowl, ‘You want a guy around, you shouldn’t follow his girlfriend.’
‘I’ve saved Furn’s neck from women more than once but I can’t take the credit for this one. He wasn’t followed on my instructions.’
‘Azu took it upon herself? Was she following him or stalking him?’
‘People talking on rooftops probably don’t have all the answers. But I’ll try to keep them apart until we get through this. Tell Furn to take a closer look at the Catlett girlfriend. She was the other victim in the Sapien assault. On paper she’s squeaky clean, but something brought the Sapien’s into their home.’
‘Do you mean the nanny or the girlfriend?’
‘Rish Jones. As far as I know they’re one in the same.’
Breeze worried himself over which was the better way to spend a day, wandering the city’s police stations with a pair of garment penetrating glasses or another interview opportunity with Rish Jones. He figured that even with X-ray glasses there would be no seeing through Rish. So, the glasses it would be. Still, he would have to be careful where he pointed them.
The brief rooftop meeting ended the same way as most conversations with Riley: an incoming call followed by a firm shake of the head to indicate it was going to take a while. Breeze was getting to know his way around the Alfred Hospital rooftop and didn’t waste any time in getting off it. The elevator hadn’t lost his escort’s scent or warmth. Breeze mingled with it and mulled over her name: Soila Waneta - he had liked the way she said it. He had the elevator to himself to the ground floor. She was waiting for him there, and had traded her nurse uniform for black jeans and an orange Billabong t-shirt. The bunned hair was the common link between the two very different looks.
‘You’re off?’ said Breeze keenly. ‘I thought with my luck someone would have gotten themselves shot in the interim.’
Waneta smiled. ‘So what do you have in mind?’
‘Sushi?’
Waneta shook her head. ‘That’s driving well within the white lines. Way too safe.’
‘What then?’
‘I feel like I’ve been spending too much time in the emergency unit, seeing firsthand what happens to adrenalin junkies without ever experiencing why they would want to be adrenalin junkies in the first place.’
Breeze had rarely seen eyes so zestful and fresh in a profession where blood was a by-product. He liked the challenge he could see in them. He went to his phone and made some calls and twenty five minutes later they were tearing through the sky a hundred metres over the city.
Rick Lanton was the regular RIP flyer and one of the few outsiders in law enforcement who did not betray a wariness or contempt in their company. He considered himself a people’s person only because people were a lot nicer once he got them up in the air. Military cropped black hair and chestnut yellow eyes that only begrudgingly stayed out of sunglasses at night, Lanton glanced back at the dashing police officer and fetching blonde in the rear seats and for the first time felt more like a limousine driver than a helicopter pilot for the Victorian Police Force.
‘Is this where you want to be?’ he said to Breeze through the headset.
‘Yes, it is,’ Breeze replied. ‘Take me out from the site in a slow circle. This is a reconnoiter mission.’
‘You got it.’
Reconnoitering a blonde might have been closer to the truth. The RIP, however, got their authority from higher than Lanton could fly, so he kept this notion to himself. And though he lacked the authority to take his own woman up in the air, her mere existence made landing feel a lot more bearable than it might otherwise be.
Breeze was starting to wonder if Waneta had been on a helicopter ride before. She certainly wasn’t clasping her knees in excitement.
He disconnected Lanton from the conversation and said to Waneta, ‘Down there is the Fairfield Military Hospital. A lot of their work is strictly confidential. Nurses, however, must swap a few stories about the place.’
Waneta pressed against the window and, as she peered down, murmured, ‘Last week there was a head on collision on that corner that kept the emergency unit busy all night. One of the passenger’s arms was ripped from the shoulder.’
Breeze eyed her carefully. ‘Mind a personal question?’
Waneta pulled her gaze back into the cockpit. ‘That depends. Will I take it personally?’
‘Why did you become a nurse?’
‘It wasn’t because I am the Florence Nightingale type. When you’ve worked the trauma unit a while, you’ll know you’re the strongest person in the room. Not just because the other sod had been torn open by a bullet, a blade or a bumper bar. It’s your unflappable resoluteness. The quiet fascination of seeing million years of evolution in bloody exposé.’
‘Sounds like you’d be happier doing autopsies.’
‘Sometimes that’s about all we’re doing, with the final whispers of life for small talk.’
Breeze shook his head with a frown.
Waneta leaned into him. ‘Thanks for the ride. It’s been fun. You were right for suggesting sushi. I like my food raw. Where did you have in mind?’
Breeze glanced at his watch. ‘It’ll have to be another time. I’ve got to do a blood test back at HQ.’
Waneta pushed back in her seat. ‘Most guys wait till after before worrying about blood tests.’
She was vivacious and carefree, but seemed to revel in giving the impression she would happily roll out a picnic blanket at a blood spattered crime scene.
Breeze tried to refocus on the streets around the Fairfield Military Hospital. He wanted to picture tearing up to them with a shackled Dokomad in the back seat and the mysterious Dr Jachom waiting at the front entrance. First, however, it would require some skilled driving through the image of Waneta rolling out that blanket.