Endza, What kind of name was that?
"What kind of name is that?" asked Mac, very perplexed. Endza raised an eyebrow.
"Simply the one my parents gave me." She said, shrugging.
"Aha." Said Mac. He looked back down the corridor.
"And your name detective?"
"Oh. It's Mac Taylor. Detective Mac Taylor." Endza nodded. "Well, Miss Endza. I have been to countless numbers of crime scenes. But there have been very few where I can actually breathe without inhaling another human."
"You're Welcome." Said Endza. She gave a small grin and walked back into her dressing room. Mac and Flack looked at each other, before following her in.
"How come none of them are crowding around my crime scene?" Mac asked, once again perplexed. This girl was very different.
"I put the fear of the law into them. If they were going to be hysterical and out of control, they were going to behave like that away from the dead body." She paused. "I have an ATF friend. I know how these things work."
"Endza, how long have you been dancing?" he asked.
"As long as I can remember. I've have a few short pauses in between years, but nothing to really stop me from the hobby." She said kindly.
"You seem to be the only one that doesn't have her hair up. Why is that?" Mac asked.
"I'm on stage much later. With the long speech the director makes and with how long the first act is, I need something to keep me from becoming bored." There was this accent that was in her voice. Mac could not pin point it to save his life. It wasn't strong, and was definitely disguised. But before he could ask….
"Mac?" came the familiar female voice.
He turned to the door to see his partner, Stella Bonesera standing there. Blooming curls, angular face, quite tall. Kit and all, the Greek woman, was ready to go to work.
"Endza, this is my partner, Detective Stella Bonesera."
"How do you do?" Stella asked, putting on her gloves. Endza nodded with a kind smile.
"So, Mac. Where do you want me to start?" She asked.
"You can interview all of those crying prom queens out there!" Flack exclaimed, walking in. Endza stifled a laugh.
"Sorry Flack. The gloves beat you to it." Stella said, smiling tauntingly. Flack pouted.
"Ya know. When you're in high school Chemistry, the teachers never tell you that if you don't pass this, you'll be stuck interviewing crying teenage girls with no life one day. And what makes it worse is that none of them are old enough to vote yet."
Mac and Stella gave him their 'look.' He rolled his eyes and stormed off.
"Okay, if ya'll don't pull this together, I'm going to have all of you locked up for disturbing the peace and ruining my dinner date!" yelled Flack form down the hall. You could hear sudden gasps and whimpers from down the hallway.
"I like him." Said Endza, with her long brown hair draping over her shoulders. She wasn't as thin and tiny as many of the other girls. She was tall and lean. But as a dancer that was expected. It wasn't hard to see the muscles in her legs and core. That was what the tights and leotards were for anyway.
"Not the kind that blends in, huh?" asked Stella, in an understanding tone. Endza grinned then looked at the ground.
"Trust me. I prefer not to." Endza said. Stella nodded to that. "Ignorance and total drama has never struck me as an appealing quality." She paused. "I'm sorry if that sounded conceited." She said with a guilty whisper. Mac and Stella were caught off guard by the remark.
But she recomposed herself. "When do you start looking at the body?"
"When I come." Came another voice. This one was eager and upbeat. This took Endza by surprise. This time it was a black man. "Where is it Mac?"
The lead detective turned to Stella then to Endza.
"She'll show you."
Endza opened her eyes wide.
"How do you even know that you can trust me?" She asked, mystified. Mac's sky blue eyes met golden ones.
"Until you prove to me that I shouldn't." Stella and the black man exchanged baffled glances. This was unlike Mac. He was not one taken by first impressions. What did this girl have that others didn't? Endza returned the gaze, making it even more piercing than the one she had just received. She gave a small grin and returned her gaze to the floor for a moment.
"I didn't catch your name.," she recalled to the black man with her slight accent. The CSI regained his composure
"Oh, um. Sheldon Hawkes." Endza once again, nodded to that. "So, um, where is this body?"
Chuckling slightly under her breath (only to the eagerness of course), the girl stood up and strode gracefully out of the room. Her steps gave a certain stealth that screamed mystical. The detectives felt a sudden warning to stay back. Yet they couldn't suspect this girl until they knew the COD and TOD.
"Rehearsal schedule." Flack all of a sudden said. They were never going to get to see this body.
"Walk with us Flack." Mac said, obviously thinking this.
"Okay, I know that at this point that we don't know how the guy died. But every girl and helicopter mom swears that they couldn't have killed this guy because they got here at one when the theatre opened. Apparently none of them saw this guy lying here on the floor at two P.M." Flack scoffed. "The schedule says 'arrive for make-up at one,' 'warm,-up at 1:45,' and 'costumes on two thirty. No one found this guy til 2:35. The moment everyone leaves, he dies. But then again…'
"Yeah, we haven't gotten a look at the body." Stella said kneeling down. "There is plenty of blood around his head. I'd say blunt force trauma."
Endza observed from the doorway. Someone had replaced her chair barrier with the actual yellow tape. She knew better than to cross in on police territory
Hawkes examined the man's hands and nails. "No signs of any struggle. No defensive wounds…"
"And none of the chickies said they heard any screaming, not like they'd hear anything." Flack added.
"Could that kill a man?" asked Endza, pointing to above their heads.
Everyone looked up.
"Where?" asked Mac.
"The backdrop?" All the eyes backstage turned their attention to the Winter Wonderland backdrop. The one thing that could kill a guy was sticking out at the top loop- a medal bar. The rusted medal bar was missing an essential piece of equipment- the rubber tip on the end.
"That was quick." Flack said bluntly.
Everyone sighed. Another case of backstage stupidity. Whoever put money on that one…
Mac searched the are for a stepping stool or something and found a short folding ladder. He estimated his height to be the same as the victims, give or take a few inches. Unfolding the equipment, he stepped up to the top to observe the metal bar. There was blood on the tip.
"Was this backdrop lowered when you all were warming up?" Mac asked.
"I honestly couldn't say. Many of them are already dropped, and simply pulled when they get the cue to go up. If you find the find Stage Manager, she may be able to tell you. I can't remember if that one is already lowered, or if lowers later in the show and just hides behind the psych." Flack raised an eyebrow in question. "It's the white, translucent drop that is meant for lights and projections."
Flack nodded to this new bit of information. Endza shifted her weight and rested into her right hip, she folded her arms, before resting her right hand on her cheek, in observation.
"They tell you not to stand underneath them, don't you?" Hawkes asked, gazing up at the enormous theatrical backdrops, already knowing the answer.
"Every show." She answered reassuringly. Everyone refocused their attention to Mac Taylor who was swabbing the end of the metal.
"Looks like someone lowered the drop, then realizing they had hit someone, pulled it back up." Mac suspected.
Stella walked over to the array of pulley systems responsible for holding, lowering, and lifting the backdrops. There was one, luckily, labeled "Snow drop." Hoping for some DNA evidence, she opened her kit and swabbed for epithelials.
"Miss Vavare… is that how you say it?" Flask asked. The girl nodded. "Is there anyway I can get the names of the backstage management crew from you? You're the only one cooperating."
Endza smirked and nodded. "I have a playbill in the dressing room."
"Sounds good." Endza nodded and proceeded down the hallway. Flack quietly consented and followed after her.
"So the girls have warm-up, finish, grab their belongings from the stage, leave, and this guy dies from blunt force trauma within five minutes of everyone gone?" Hawkes throws out. "This just sounds like a case of the stupid."
"Or of the accident. Be sure to get a tox screening and to run his background. He may have been intoxicated." Mac said, crawling down from the ladder.
"What if our stagehand was doing more than just pre-show duties? He may have spying on the little dance company." Stella threw out, placing her hands on her hips.
"I don't think our vic was guilty of that." Flack called from the doorway as he strode back into to join them, playbill in hand. "One of the apprentice company members said that another one of the stagehands though was acting like Creeper-McCreeper-cen, but not our dead guy. Maybe our vic stumbled on some stage management perv action and suffered the consquences."
"Maybe." Mac said, removing his gloves.
"So, what now?" asked Endza, from the doorway. She was very quiet. Even Flack forgot she had followed him back. It was quite evident she was more content in their company than in her fellow dancers.
"How many more shows do you have?" asked Stella. Even though they had to investigate a murder, she was showing a small interest. Both Hawkes and Mac knew about her dancing career. Mac stepped in.
"Planning to fill in?" he said with a teasing grin. Stella rolled her eyes and jabbed him with her elbow.
"Ha, oh yeah." She played back, before turning her attention back to the girl.
"We have one more show." She managed to fit in, catching on to the 'flirtation' in front of her.
"Well, as much as I would love to see Stella in tights and a tutu," Flack started, "I would still like to know why this not-so-messy-dead body caused an apocalypto like response. Okay, sure it's a dead body and all, but come on. I know these girls have to have seen movies or watch Tv or something'."
"People die everyday." Endza answered. "Most of us just aren't used to seeing them dead."
Flack nodded in a contemplative understanding.
"Maybe they thought he was taking a nap or something." She finished. "Who knows?" And turned to walk back to the dressing rooms, seeing that it was nearly time til 'places.'
That caught Mac on a snag for a moment.
"Why weren't you at warm-up?" She turned around to look at him.
"Oh, I rode with my friend, Anya. We got here late… again." She replied. "You can check with her, and with some of the senior company moms. They can all vouch for us."
"At 2:30?" asked Flack, suddenly concerned. Endza knew exactly where this was going. But she knew that she needed to remain calm.
"I was walking in the door at 1:50. The librarian had to let us in the door because our arms were full."
"Why did you get here late?" asked Hawkes.
"Anya walked out of her house at 1:30. Over slept. It happens. Especially during performances." She peered up at the pole. "They don't call it 'Hell Week' for nothing."
And with that she gazed with her golden irises, locking them with Mac's. There was a hint of hurt in her stare, causing Mac to feel a sudden hint of guilt. Not every person who is willing to appear that they are helping is guilty, and he knew that.
And with that, Endza slowly turned on her heels and left the backstage area.
"Now what?" asked Flack.
"Find the Stage Manager and the director. Run background checks on everyone. Hawkes," the doctor turned his head. "Get the body to autopsy."
Everyone nodded to their assignments and left, except for Stella, who hadn't obtained one.
The men in white came and covered the corpse and loaded it onto on to the gurney. After Flack had herded all the crazed ballerinas into the library and broke the news about the 'murder,' silence was the last thing any of them would ever hear. Flack could only roll his eyes when he overheard groups of girls explaining to their friends that they knew the man was dead all along but didn't want to alarm anyone. He was disgusted but he knew he wasn't allowed to show it. He had double-checked with every mother who wasn't in tears suffocating her daughter about being backstage during the man's death and confirmed that Endza did come in late. Man, Jess was going to kill him after he explains this one. Speaking of Jess… He began to dial some numbers.
If the brick building was ever to collapse, it would now. Collecting finger prints from the steel rods holding connecting the pulley systems to other ones found on the ladder, Mac found himself perplexed. He couldn't remember the last time that he had been distracted by a person at a crime scene- one whom he didn't consider a suspect. He was so deep in thought he didn't notice his partner walking towards him.
"Mac?" Stella asked her partner, concern edged in her tone. "Are you okay?"
"Hmm? Oh yeah. I'm fine." He said, collecting an official blood sample from the blood pool where the victim had died. "Something just feels off, I guess."
"What's bothering you?" She said, crossing her arms.
"I don't know." He paused. "That girl, Endza. She…." He looked up at Stella. "I don't even know. I mean, if she hates the environment, why stay?"
Stella sighed and looked around, searching for a possible answer.
"Well, she said that she still had friends. There are the rewards that come with dancing. Knowing you have a talent. When I performed I loved it. The stage, the crowds, the applause; it's addicting."
"So why did you leave?" Mac asked, standing up straight. Stella peered back at him.
"I don't know. But, hey I like this job. At least the drama doesn't come from the actual people I work with." She said giving Mac her smug grin. All he could do was smugly grin back. Ring, ring.
Mac fingered through his pocket to find his phone, a scowl suddenly appeared on his face.
"Sinclair." He said, frustrated.
"I take that back." Stella said rolling her eyes. Mac answered his phone, even though he was dying to ignore it.
"Taylor."
Stella walked off to leave Mac to steam on his own.
"Ms. Bonasera?" came a voice. She turned around. It was the girl herself.
"May I talk to you?" Endza asked.
"Sure." Stella responded. Endza led the detective outside to the cool and quiet evening air and walked out of the theatre outside by the SUVs. They turned to face each other. Stella was able to look Endza straight in the eye.
"I just wanted to thank you for coming down and investigating this whole thing. I know it's your job, but I still felt like I needed to thank you." She said sincerely.
"Of course. No problem." Stella said, with the same sincerity. "I was a dancer once. A long time ago."
Endza smiled.
"I understand the whole pointe shoe-blister-backstage-drama scenario. I don't get much of that now. Different drama."
"That was why Detective Taylor was teasing you about filling in." Endza said.
"Yeah. He's my partner. Teasing me apparently is his job." Endza smiled a little bigger. The two women shared a moment of quiet solitude, a connection that sometimes only stranger feel.
"I hope it didn't sound like I was complaining inside. I love dancing and I really do love this company. They're all beautiful dancers and beautiful girls. But when something goes wrong,…"
"… screaming doesn't fix it." Stella finished for her. The young woman nodded, before letting her gaze trail off to another part of the exterior of the theatre. Stella recognized the girl's silent loneliness and longed to let her know that she understood, but now was not the time.
"I have to get back to my team, but if you ever need anything…" Stella dug through her pocket. "I want you to give me a call."
Emerald eyes met golden ones and the detective handed the young dancer her card. In return, Endza let another smile grace her face, and nodded as a 'thank you.'
Then BANG!
It all happened in slow motion.
Endza's eyes rolled to the back of her head, her legs gave out from underneath her, and she slumped into a heap on the ground. Blood came trickling from her head, streaming and dampening her long brown hair into a red bloody mess.
"Endza!" she cried. She crouched down to the girl who now appeared to be dead. But then instinct kicked in with a mili-second. Grabbing her glock, she scanned the line of trees with her gun. Why hadn't she noticed the small forest behind the theatre before? She grabbed her radio.
"I need an ambulance and back-up at the West Side theatre immediately! I have a teenager with a gunshot to the head! I need assistance now!"
Not knowing if the shooter was still out there; all she could do was revert to another instinct. She bent down to the poor limp body laying on the cold concrete.
"Mac! Mac, I need you out here now!" she yelled furiously. She had the poor girl's head cradled in her lap.
Mac burst out of the backstage door. He had heard the shot but had no idea where it came from.
"What happened?" he asked now in police mode.
"She just wanted to thank me for doing my job and all of a sudden a gun went off and now she has a bullet in her head!" Stella exclaimed, exasperated.
Mac was now kneeling down next to Stella hoping to help stop the bleeding. Wait,… she was still bleeding…
"Mac…" came a faint whisper.
Both detectives froze.
They looked down to the girl in their hands. Her eyes were dead still and glazed over. "I can't see."
Dun, dun, DUN! I'm so mean. What shall happen to Endza? I have the biggest story idea in the history of story ideas! But you have to review in order to find out. Muahahahahaha!