ANGEL BLUE [1]

LEAD 26: nineteen blue balloons

      • • • 

      “Ah Detective, good tidings and happy day of birth and so on,” Nikita greets. “I take it that the questioning with Helena went soundly since you haven’t been tempted to give me the location of her cell. No matter, how may I assist you?”

      I shiver runs through me, “Do you have a car?”

      “No, Detective, I’m a mastermind Diablo that’s smarter than almost a third of the population on this godforsaken planet with no means of transport,” Nikita drawls with heavy sarcasm. “Of course I have a vehicle, do you need a lift somewhere?”

      “I need to talk some things over with you at the lab, I presume you already know its location,” I say.

      “Indeed I do,” Nikita chuckles, “I shall meet with you in approximately three minutes and twenty-four seconds.”

      It occurs to me that I’m conversing with a potential serial killer turned lead witness. I’ve arranged to meet up with Nikita to clear the air with this case since I’m now a solo Detective, surely that’s against protocol. However, protocol never entered into the Angel Blue case―whatever works, goes, with the case. I sigh and begin my walk to the lab, hopefully Snag hasn’t fired Joseph, I need his expertise in technology.

      Nikita’s true to his word, he comes to the lab in the form of some gangster looking chap from the eighties. Nikita’s disguise (thanks to his ‘advanced’ Diablo abilities) consists of plaid jeans, heavy black boots, a miscellaneous black shirt and a leather jacket. Not to mention that his hair’s also a hideous shade of tiger-blonde and is spiked into a mow hawk. A devious Diablo mastermind he is not.

      “Out of all the people you could’ve disguised as, you go with an outcast child,” I fold my arms, unimpressed. “I should arrest you for idiocy.”

      “I suppose you’re right,” Nikita looks down at his tattooed hands and within a matter of seconds, his skin is clear and I’m staring at Sam’s image. “Is this more appeasing to your eyes?” he flashes me a wink.

      My stomach involuntarily clenches and I look away, causing Nikita to burst out laughing. The sound must echo Sam’s joyous outburst, for I haven’t heard my ex-partner laugh, only chuckle. Nikita’s nailed Sam’s image down to the bone apart from the eyes, they’re black. Unholy and empty, the irises of Mr Hyde.

      Nikita, with his emotions on numb, doesn’t understand the problem I have with his new glamour. I suppose I have no choice in the matter, if I sauntered into the lab requesting to see Helena’s phone records and such with anyone other than ‘Sam’, I would be put under suspicion.

      I follow Nikita into the lab and try to push the memory of Sam from my mind, out partnership must’ve meant little, just like those gentle touches―if it didn’t, then Sam gave up our comradery for nothing. 

      The crime tech floor is the second above the entrance level, seeing that the mortuary is below ground level. Nobody asks questions as to why me and Nikita are here, they just breeze past us doing their duties to the police force.

      The entire floor is split by see-through glass windows and rooms. I drag the heels of my NYPD boots across the linoleum floor and see if I can spot a Boston Red Sox cap. Sure enough, Joseph’s bent over a microscope in the Trace department. Before I can call out, I’m interrupted by a stout woman in a suit.

      “Can I help you both?” she asks.

      “Detective Akira Stevens, NYPD,” I show her my ID.