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.