Despite it being close to five, Duarte came down the hall, smiling as he greeted Quinn. Hey, thought you were heading off on vacation.
I was.
What are you doing down here?
Right now? Feeling damned lucky to see you.
Most people dont feel that waywhen Im at work, anyway, Duarte said with a touch of humor.
Let me rephrase. Since I have to see a medical examiner, Im glad its you. You performed the autopsy on Lara Trudeau.
Duarte, a tall, slim black man with the straightest back Quinn had ever seen, arched a graying brow. Youre working an angle on Lara Trudeau?
Thats surprising, I take it?
Duarte lifted his shoulders in a shrug. Nothing surprises me. Ive been here far too long. I ruled the death accidental because I sure as hell couldnt find any reason not to. Due to the circumstances, though, Dixon is still doing some workthough nothing more than paperwork, I imagine.
What do you mean, the circumstances?
A healthy woman popped too many nerve pills, swallowed some hard liquor and dropped dead. It isnt a daily occurrence. Not even in Miami. The last was spoken dryly and a little wearily. Although, in all honesty, the number of people who do die from the misuse of prescriptions and even over-the-counter drugs is a hell of a lot higher than it should be.
Really?
People mix too much stuff. And then they think, like with sleeping pills, hey, if one helps, I could really get a good nights sleep with a bunch of them. As for Lara Trudeau, who the hell knows what she was thinking? Maybe she just thought she was immortal.
Im surprised the stuff didnt affect her dancing.
That tooshe must have had a will of steel.
She dropped dead in front of an audience.
Not to mention the television cameras. And no one saw anything suspicious.
There was no sign of? Quinn said. Though what the hell there might be a sign of, he didnt know.
Force? Had someone squeezed open her cheeks to force pills down her throat? Not that I could find. The cops, naturally, checked for prints on her prescription bottle. Not a one to be found.
Not a single print? Quinn said with surprise. Not even hers?
She was wearing gloves for her performance.
And that would normally wipe the entire vial clean?
If she was rubbing her fingers around it over and over again, which a nervous person might do.
Still
Duarte shrugged. I guess its one of the reasons the cops kept looking. She was famous and apparently not all that nice, sothere might have been any number of people who wanted her dead. Trouble is, they just havent got anything. There were hundreds of people there. She went out to dance with a smile on her face. No apparent argument with anyone therewell, Im assuming youve read the report. He stared at Quinn. Shes still here. Want to see her yourself?
I thought youd released her body.
I did. The funeral home wont be here until sometime tonight. Come on. Ill have her brought out.
They walked down halls that, no matter how clean, still somehow reeked of death. Duarte called an assistant and led Quinn to a small room for the viewing. Loved ones werent necessarily brought in to see their dearly departed. A camera allowed for them to remain in the more natural atmosphere of the lobby to view the deceased.
She was brought in. Duarte lowered the sheet.
Lara Trudeau had been a beautiful woman. Even in death, her bone structure conveyed a strange elegance. She truly gave the appearance of sleepuntil the eye wandered down to the autopsy scars.
Quinn stared at her, circling the gurney on which she lay. Other than the sewn Y incision that marred her chest, there was no sign of any violence. She hadnt even bruised herself when shed gone down.
I couldnt find anything but the prescription pills and alcohol. Shed barely eaten, which surely added to the pressure on her heart. Thats what killed herthe hearts reaction to drugs and alcohol.
Like Nell.
Frowning, Duarte stared at him. Not exactly. No alcohol in Nell. Why, what do you think youre seeing?
I dont know.
Is that why youre on this?
Maybe. I found out that Nell Durken had been an amateur dancer and took lessons at the same studio where Lara Trudeau sometimes practiced and coached.
But the police arrested Nells husband. And his fingerprints were all over the pill bottle. You were the one who followed the guy, right, and gave the police your records on the investigation?
Yep.
Art Durken has been in jail, pending trial, for over a week. He sure as hell wasnt at that competition.
Yeah, I know.
So?
I dont know. Theres justsomething. Thats all.
Durken still denying that he murdered his wife?
Yes. Quinn met Anthony Duartes eyes. Admits he was a womanizing bastard, but swears he didnt kill her.
You think a dancer is the killer? Duarte shook his head. Quinn, the circumstances were odd enough for the police to investigate, but youve got to think about the facts again. Lara Trudeau didnt argue with anyone at that competition, and she walked out on the floor to dance without the least sign of distress. When she fell, she did so in front of a huge audience. The pills she took were prescription, the vial had no prints, and the prescription was written by a physician shed been seeing for over ten yearsand to the best of my knowledge, he wasnt a ballroom dancer.
Yeah, I know. I read the report. Im going to pay a visit to Dr. Williams, though I know he was already interviewed and cleared of any wrongdoing.
Duarte grimaced. If the cops blamed a physician every time a patient abused a prescription, the jails would be spilling over worse than they are now. This is a tough one, Quinn. Strange, and tough. I just dont see where you can go. Theres simply no forensic evidence to lead you in any direction. If it is a crime, its just about the perfect one.
No crime is perfect.
We both know a lot of them go unpunished.
Yeah. And this time, I agree, theres nothing solid to go on. Unless I can find someone who knows somethingand that person has to be out there.
Wish I could be more helpful, Duarte said.
Quinn nodded. Nell Durken hadnt taken a lesson in the sixth months before she died. With Nellthere was nothing else, either, right? Nograss, speedanything like that?
No, sorry. There were no illegal substances in either woman. Just massive overdoses of prescription medications and, in the Trudeau case, alcohol.
Well, thanks, Quinn said. Sorry to take up your time.
Duarte offered him a rueful smile. You never take up my time. I really believe in the things you read and see on television. The dead cant speak anymore. We have to do their talking for them, but sometimes were not as good at interpreting as we want to be. If Ive missed something, or if I havent thought to look for something, hell, I want to know.
Yeah. Thanks.
You going back to the Keys tonight? Duarte asked.
No. I have my boat up at the marina by Nicks, doing some work. Im still there.
No. I have my boat up at the marina by Nicks, doing some work. Im still there.
Maybe Ill see you later. Im starvingit was a long day. I got busy and forgot to eat. Im dying for a hamburger.
Quinn nodded, but at the moment, he didnt feel the slightest twinge of hunger. Hed stood through a number of autopsies and hed never gotten sick or faintedas some of the biggest, toughest guys he knew had donebut hed never gotten over a certain abdominal clenching in the presence of a corpse. Time and experience didnt change some things.
Duarte was one of the best of the best. But he could chow down with body parts on the same table. Survival, Quinn thought, in a place where the houses of the dead were as big as they were in Miami-Dade County.
Youll be around later? Duarte said.
Sure, Quinn agreed. It would be a lot later, he knew.
Lara was covered and rolled away by the assistant as the two men started out the door and back down the hall.
A trip to the main station on Kendall was pretty much as worthless as Quinn had suspected. Detective Pete Dixon worked nine to five.
No overtime for Dixon these days.
He said a quick hello to a few old friends and started out. In the parking lot, he ran into Jake Dilessio, with whom hed worked prior to leaving for Quantico. He wished that Dilessio had been assigned to the Trudeau investigation. He was certain he wouldnt be taking dance lessons if the chips had fallen that way.
Hey, stranger, havent seen much of you, Dilessio greeted him. Seems were living only a few feet away from one another, too. Youre moored at the marina by Nicks, right? Thought you were taking off for the Bahamas.
I was. Quinn shrugged. Im investigating the Trudeau case.
Trudeau? Dilessio arched a brow. Sounds familiar.
The dancer who died.
I thought that was ruled accidental. Last I heard, Dixon was just tying up the reports to close the case.
It was ruled accidental.
But someone thinks it wasnt?
Something like that.
So who are you working for?
The word work would imply pay.
Oh, yeah, thats right. Theyre calling your brother twinkle-toes on the beat. Not without some envy, I might add. I hear the kid is really good.
I wouldnt know. I havent seen him dance yet.
No?
I didnt even know he was dancing until this all came up.
Jake shrugged and nodded. I saw him not too long ago. He said youd been really wrapped up in work. Congratulations, by the way. I hear your surveillance reports on Art Durken gave the cops what they needed to arrest him and enough for the D.A.s office to charge him.
Not really. If Id been good enough, she wouldnt be dead.
How long have you been in this business? You cant blame yourself for all the bad shit that goes down.
Yeah, I know. But I cant stop it from bugging me, either.
Jake shrugged and said, Thats true. But at least its better than the shit that goes unpunished.
I guess youre right. Anyway, the dancer who died was connected with Dougs studio. Im doing a little follow-up of my own.
Well, Dixon is known to show up at Nicks in the evening. No wife, no kids, no kitchen. He eats a hamburger there almost every night. Im heading home now. In fact, if youre free, Ill buy you dinner.
If youre buying me dinner, Im not exactly free, but at least, at Nicks, Ill be cheap. Sounds good to me. Wheres your wife? Is she joining us? I saw her when I tied up the other day. That babys due awful soon, isnt it?
Too soon. Three weeks. And she went up to Jacksonville anyway, with a special dispensation from the airline. They wanted her to do some sketches of a homicide suspect.
I thought that she left forensics and graduated from the academy.
She did graduate from the academy, but she stayed in forensics. Shes one of the best sketch artists in the state, in the country, maybe. They asked her to go, and she thought she could help, so she went.
You know, you marry a cop, and thats what happens, Quinn said lightly.
Yeah, I know.
They arrived at Nicks right before six.
It was a great time of the day at the marina. Darkness was falling, coming fast, but the sky over the ocean was in the midst of its last majestic frenzy of color. Magenta, oranges, trails of gold, all sweeping together across the heavens over the shadowed ocean. The breeze at night was cool, pleasant after the heat of the day.
As Jake had suspected, Pete Dixon was there, already on his second cheeseburger, it appeared, since one empty basket was pushed behind the one in front of him.
Quinn pulled out a chair at Dixons table without being asked, turning it backward and straddling the seat. Jeez, Pete, you might want to opt for something green now and then, watch out for the fat and cholesterol once a week, maybe, he said.
Dixon wiped his mouth, looking at Quinn as if hed just been joined by a barracuda. His eyes, small in the folds of his face, fell on Jake Dilessio next, riddled with pure accusation. Sit down, Quinn, Jake. Come on, join me. And while youre at it, give me grief about my eating habits.
Thanks, Jake said, sitting.
Youre close to retirement. You might want to live to enjoy a little of it, Quinn said.
Like youre a vegetarian or something, Pete muttered.
Quinn grinned. No, I think Ill have a cheeseburger, too. But just one.
You brought him here, Pete said to Jake. Make sure his food goes on your bill.
Ill even pick up your bill, Jake said. Quinn has a few questions for you.
Pete groaned aloud. He was a big man. His belly jiggled as the sound escaped him. Hope Nick has some Rolaids back there. Shit. Im off duty. You had to bring a P.I. here to bug me?
Hey, Ive got my boat up here, Quinn protested. This is the most convenient place for me to eat.
What do you want? Pete asked him flatly. Before Quinn could answer, he looked at Jake again. You really picking up my tab? If so, you can order me another beer.
Sure thing, Jake said, grimacing at Quinn. He looked around and saw one of the waitresses at the next table. Debbie, when you get a minute
The girl turned to him, scratching on her pad. Peteanother cheeseburger?
Funny, Pete said.
No, but two for Quinn and me, and three Millers, Jake said.
Coming up. Debbie was young and cheerful, bronzed and wearing tiny white shorts. Pete watched as she walked away.
Pete, pay attention over here. Whats the story on Lara Trudeau? Quinn asked.
Dixon frowned. Trudeau? Youre here to ask me about that?
Yeah. Why?
I closed it up today.
You closed the case already? Quinn said.
What case? There is no case. You want to see what happened yourself, the tape is in my office. Come by anytime. She went out on the dance floor smiling like a little lark. Moments later, she drops. A doctor is right there and tries to revive her. The ambulance arrives, and the med techs try to revive her. She gets to the hospital, and shes pronounced dead on arrival. Shes turned over to the M.E., who discovers that she did herself in with booze and pills. Or her heart gave in cuz of the booze and pills. She ordered a drink at the bar herselfa dozen witnesses will tell you so. And the pills were a prescription from a physician with a flawless reputation. No prints on the vial. Our lady was wearing gloves. Of course, we checked anyway. We questioned waiters and waitresses, judges, dancers and the audience. Dozens of people talked to her. No one saw her argue with anyone. Hell yes, I closed the case. There was no damned case.