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you think pollen is?’ she said. ‘It’s my trace evidence. I don’t want you washing out clothes or doing other procedures that might compromise my findings.’
    It was time to let her have one barrel. ‘You know as well as I do that pollen is extremely tough and resistant,’ I said. ‘Washing’s not going to dislodge all of it and, even if it did, I’d find it in the filters.’
    She didn’t look impressed enough, so I fired the second barrel. ‘And if I do happen to find any palynomorphs, you’ll be the first to know.’ I couldn’t resist continuing: ‘Or any acritarchs or phytoliths.’
    She blinked.
    ‘I’ll centrifuge the whole damn lot to concentrate the pollen assemblage and send it on to you. Okay?’
    I was going to have to invite Sofia Verstoek into my office soon for a chief scientist ‘we all work as a team here’ chat. I reminded myself that this applied to me too, and stopped myself from any further escalation.
    If my saying my bit had impressed her, Sofia gave no indication. She pointed a pen at the body on the ground. ‘I heard she’s the wife of a New South Wales police officer.’
    ‘Ex-police,’ I said. ‘He’s been running his own business for some years.’
    ‘No doubt he thinks he’ll get special treatment.’
    There was no missing the contempt in her voice and something in her manner again reminded me of Genevieve. Before I could stop myself, and despite my earlier intentions, I let my irritation get the better of me. ‘What is it with you?’ I said. ‘Are you always this difficult?’
    The large brown eyes widened and her face paled. I noticed her gloved hands clench and for an unbelievable split-second I thought she might hit me. Then, suddenly, sun lighting the fine hair of her brows created a golden aura over her cheekbones and I found myself speculating how I could best capture it in paint. You look like a honey bee, I thought, fuzzy gold, and you’ll sting anyone who comes near.
    Sofia Verstoek stood uncertain a moment longer, then turned on her heel and strode away.
    ‘Hey,’ I called after her. ‘You haven’t told me about the earrings. Or the skirt.’
    She turned and gave me a look. As if , it said. As I stared after her departing back, I regretted my words but this woman riled me and I no longer had the patience to remain professional every minute of the day and night. According to my brother Charlie, I was heading for burnout.
    Turning my attention back to my work, I decided I’d do a more thorough examination of Tianna Richardson’s clothing back at Forensic Services before passing on anything interesting to the relevant experts, including the latest ungracious addition to our staff.
    I was sealing and documenting packages back near my wagon when my mobile rang.
    ‘I can’t talk to you, Earl,’ I said as soon as I recognised his voice, wishing like crazy I’d never let him talk me into this. I could still be in bed with Iona, looking forward to a relaxing day together instead of logging endless crime scene items and dealing with an uppity young scientist.
    ‘Now you’re doing it too,’ he said. ‘Treating me like a suspect.’
    ‘You know the ropes, Earl,’ I said, irritated. ‘ Everyone close to the victim is potentially a suspect in this sort of thing. I can’t have any contact with you.’ I didn’t add ‘of all people’, which was better left unsaid. I paused in my lecture, feeling sorry for the poor bastard. Now that he was on the line, I might as well put it to good use. ‘We’re going to have to talk to your son, Jason. How can we get in touch with him?’
    ‘That little bastard,’ said his father. ‘No idea.’
    ‘That’s a hard line for a daily communicant to take.’
    ‘You don’t know what he’s like,’ said Earl. ‘I’ve washed my hands of him.’
    ‘Like Pilate?’ I said, unable to resist.
    ‘He drives around Australia in a shaggin’ wagon—wouldn’t work in an iron lung. Bludges off his