Read Online Death Dance by Linda Fairstein - Free Book Online Page A

over."
    The circular fractures radiated out from the point of impact,
aggravated by the velocity of the dancer's descent and the height of
the drop.
    Blood was everywhere, pooled beneath Talya's ear and
splattered all over the satin torso of her costume.
    "You see her arms?" Mercer asked.
    "Looks like they're behind her. Probably tied."
    The legs that had been so distinctly Galinova's—long
and lean, well muscled and with extension that had been remarked upon
by every reviewer since her debut in Moscow more than twenty years
earlier—were visible from beneath the ripped tulle skirt. The
left one was twisted inward, the knee apparently knocked out of its
joint as it bounced off the wall of the shaft. The right one, closer to
us, seemed broken in half at the calf, the bone protruding through the
Lycra tights that covered Talya's leg. There was no toe shoe on that
foot, as there appeared to be on the other.
    Mike moved the light like a wand, up and down the lines of the
body, looking for any other marks or signs of injuries unrelated to the
fall.
    Behind me I could hear the voices of new arrivals. "Chapman?
We're comin' in."
    "Move it, Coop. That's Emergency Services."
    I backed out of the space and greeted the crew from ESU. They
were lugging just about every kind of device that could be imagined to
cut through the metal grating.
    While I listened to them work their way into the small
cell—the caged area above the giant fan—that held
Talya Galinova, one of the death-scene investigators appeared to do a
cursory study of the body, declare the matter a homicide, and supervise
the delicate removal of the remains to the basement of the morgue.
    Mike and Mercer joined me to make way for Hal Sherman, who had
to photograph the body from every aspect before anyone could move the
dancer from her painful pose.
    When that was done, Dr. Kestenbaum, the medical examiner on
duty, put on his lab suit, gloves, and booties, looking more like a
space traveler than a forensic pathologist as he approached the air
shaft. Within minutes, Kestenbaum returned and signaled the ambulance
crew to bag the body.
    We circled around him to see what he had to say. "I think you
could have done this without me."
    "Yeah, doc," Mike said. "But what killed her?"
    "Skull fracture. Broken neck with cervical spinal injuries.
Hands bound behind her back so nothing to cushion the blow before the
head struck. Massive contrecoup contusions—a classic result
of a fall. You and I had one like that before, Mike."
    I had seen the photos of the brain in Mike's case in which a
man was pushed off the roof of one of the city's great museums. The
brain rebounds backward from the skull after striking with such great
force, leaving the devastating marks at the location directly opposite
the point of impact.
    The young doctor turned to me. "Doesn't look like your
Baliwick, Ms. Cooper. The leotard and tights are in place. No signs of
an attempt at sexual assault."
    Mercer wasn't giving up the connection that would keep a
Special Victims Squad detective in the case. "The murder may have been
the result of a relationship she was involved in. Too early to tell.
Alex and I are in this for the long haul."
    I couldn't tell whether Mercer said this because he was
professionally interested in who killed Talya or because he wanted to
remain in the case for the purpose of shoring Mike up as we got him
back in the saddle for what would now be a high-profile investigation.
    "You'll want these things," Kestenbaum said to Mike, handing
him several brown paper bags.
    Mike opened the first one and passed it to me. Inside was one
of Talya's pointe shoes—soft white satin with the hard
surface at the front that allowed her to dance on her toes. The two
ribbons that crisscrossed and laced around the ankles seemed to be
missing.
    "Did this tear off during the fall?" I asked.
    "No," Kestenbaum said. "Check one of the other bags. The perp
must have made her take one slipper off before he killed