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the cornstarch powder that coats standard gloves.”
    “And nothing special about that?”
    “Nope. These gloves could have come from any one of a hundred outlets, a thousand – Coles, Woolworths, any drugstore.”
    “Okay. Anything else?”
    “Biological matter from the woman’s vagina. I could tell you where she was in her menstrual cycle and whether or not she’d had sex during the past twenty-four hours. But I can’t give you anything practical about what was put into her.”
    “She wasn’t raped?”
    “Definitely not.”
    I looked round the lab. Benches on each side. On top of these stood impressive-looking machines with elaborate control panels and flashing lights. I recognized a powerful microscope and a centrifuge, but that was about it. The rest might as well have been Venusian technology.
    “The cops gave you all the material you need?”
    “Yeah, personal effects plus a file containing several hundred photographs of the crime scene. I’ve analyzed Stacy Friel’s jacket. I can confirm the police pathologist’s assessment of the attack – the number of stab wounds, the angle of entry, the type of knife. Although of course, the weapon hasn’t been found. I wish I could have been at the crime scene. It’s hard working second hand like this. I might have caught something the cops missed.”
    “I understand,” I replied. “And you found nothing unusual with anything Police Forensics handed over?”
    “No, Craig. I’m sorry. Hate to admit it – but right now I’m drawing a complete blank.”

Chapter 24
    I WAS STARVING – it suddenly hit me as I left Darlene’s lab and strode into reception. Johnny was there talking to our receptionist, Colette. Justine was coming toward us through the main doors a few feet away. She looked hot and flustered.
    “I feel like I’m going to get sunstroke every time I step outside,” she declared.
    I laughed. “I thought LA was hot.”
    “Yeah, but not like this!”
    I grinned and glanced at my watch. “I’m going to grab a snack. You hungry?” I asked her. “Or how about a frappaccino?
    She looked surprised for a moment. “Great.”
    There was a café on the ground floor. We got coffee and muffins and started to head back to the elevator. I checked my watch again, realized I had a spare thirty minutes.
    “You got anything to do for half an hour or so, Justine?”
    She shook her head as she sipped the frappaccino through a straw.
    “Well then, I know just the place for you. I think you’ll appreciate it.”
    “Oh!” she said. “A man of mystery …”

Chapter 25
    WE WALKED DOWN Macquarie Street close to Circular Quay. Straight ahead of us stood the Opera House, the tiers of wide steps leading to its massive windows just a couple of dozen yards away. People were sitting on the steps drinking Slurpees, coffee, Coke. We turned onto the Quay and I pointed out the sights to Justine. She was quiet, taking it all in, but not “oohing” and “ahhing” as some tourists might. I liked that.
    We walked in the shade, an arcade of shops to our left. An aboriginal man was playing a didgeridoo over a hip-hop beat spilling from an iPod plugged into a big speaker.
    “Very post-modern!” Justine observed. “So where exactly are you taking me?”
    “Don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
    We came to a bar, tables and umbrellas outside, families eating late breakfast. A big flat screen on the wall inside was showing a soccer game from the English Premier League, Chelsea vs. Tottenham. I led the way through the bar and up a flight of stairs. On the wall was a small sign. It said: ICE BAR.
    “What’s this?” Justine asked and spun round, puzzled.
    I stepped up to the counter. A few other customers milledabout. Sixty seconds later, I had two tickets in my hand and guided Justine around a corner. An immaculately tanned blonde was waiting for us by a rack of fur coats.
    Justine turned to me again.
    “Okay, this is the deal,” I said. “You want to cool down?