Excerpt of The Dance of Murder by Trisha Sugarek

Fifteen minutes later the two detectives double parked their
government issue gray sedan by the Bayard Street
entrance and walked into the park. It didn’t take but a
second to spot the yellow crime tape winding from tree to
tree cordoning off a large area. Five patrol officers stood
at varying distances around a white shrouded lump on the
ground. Black stiletto heels peeked out from the covering.
Garcia had to shake away the mental image of the wicked
witch from Oz.

God, where had that come from, she asked herself, slightly aghast at her thoughts. The Detectives stepped under the crime tape and approached the body and the officers stepped back a few steps in deference.

“Who covered the DB?” O’Roarke barked, not expecting anyone
to ‘fess up. Anything could mess up the evidence.
He sighed. “Who found her?”

A baby-faced kid in blue raised his hand. “I took the call,
Sergeant. I was just a block away. A crowd was forming when
I got here. Lookie-loos ya know? Back up arrived and we
cordoned it off and covered her.”

“Good job, officer,” Stella told him. The young officer
blushed and ducked his head. O’Roarke squatted down and
lifted
the sheet. A young woman lay on her back with her throat
cut. She wore a short, black leather skirt and a
matching leather jacket. Beside him, pulling on blue latex
gloves, Garcia gently pushed the lapels of the jacket
open to reveal a low cut T-shirt that read ‘Love the Lodge’.
Her long brown hair was soaked in blood. Her face had been
sprinkled heavily with glitter. The color of her eyes was
indistinguishable due to the glitter that filled them as
they stared unseeing up at the sky.

“With luck that’s where she works,” Garcia said indicating
the company logo on the T-shirt. “Or worse case,
someone there knows her.”

O’Roarke looked up at the young officer. “Did you find her
purse or cell phone?”

“No sir. But we haven’t checked the entire park yet. Wanted
to wait on you.”

“You three get on it.” O’Roarke growled and pointed at the
other two officers standing by. “The rest of you,
talk to everyone here in the park and see if you can find a
witness.”

O’Roarke looked over the backs of the departing officers and
spied the Medical Examiner walking down the path
from Worth Street. Through the trees he could see the Crime
Scene Unit’s white van just pulling up.

“Time to start the party,” he said to Stella. “The gang’s
all here.”

Ruby Crutchner, ME walked up, pulling on latex gloves. She
was middle-aged, with short cropped salt and
pepper hair. She wore wrinkled, baggy khakis, a white shirt,
and a linen jacket that looked like she had slept in it.
Physically she didn’t fit the bill of what a pathologist
should look like. She resembled a sweet grandmother who most
likely spent her days with her many grandchildren, baking
cookies.

Instead, she was a no-nonsense professional and was a
nationally celebrated ME. She was well known for taking care
of the
deceased with affection and respect, no matter who they had
been while alive.

“Wha’d ya got, O’Roarke? I wish we could stop meeting like
this.” O’Roarke barked out a laugh. She smiled at
Garcia. “Hello, Stella. Shitty way to start our week, huh?”
Ruby squatted down next to Stella as she lifted the sheet.
A huff of breath exited the ME’s body.

“Well, cause of death is no mystery.” Ruby said as she
looked down at the slashed throat. She turned her
voice recorder on and placed it back in the pocket of her
coat. The microphone clipped to the lapel of her
jacket would pick up her verbal notes, leaving her hands
free to examine the victim.