Stuart Kaminsky - Dead of Winter

Stella had eaten at Ming Lo's at least a dozen times, always on Sunday mornings, always with some relative who came to New York wanting to see something of the city. Ming Lo's entrance, which was on the other side of the building on Mott Street, was brightly neon lit with a broad escalator inside the glass doors. At the top of the escalator was a massive room jammed with tables. Chinese men and women wheeled dim sum carts around for customers, almost all Chinese, who selected from dozens of choices, all of which were eaten with chop sticks or fingers. Stella's relatives were always impressed.

She wondered how impressed they would be by the sight of the dead man in the alley.

"This is what I do," she said, imagining a conversation with an aunt or cousin. "I ask dead people questions."

The idea of dim sum, which usually made her hungry, now made her feel slightly nauseated. Her stomach was churning. Stella knelt next to the body. Danny had already taken photographs of the dead man, the wall, and the Dumpster.

Don Flack was near the rear door of Ming Lo's talking to the kitchen worker who had discovered the body. The clearly frightened heavy-set man responded in Chinese, which was translated by a young woman in a silk dress who shivered as she spoke.

Flack took off his coat and wrapped it around the young woman's shoulders. She nodded her thanks. The heavy-set man spoke rapidly, excited.

"He knew the dead man wasn't homeless," the young woman translated. "He is dressed too well and his hair is cut."

Flack nodded, notebook in hand.

"Did he see anyone, hear anything?" Flack asked.

The young woman translated. The heavy-set man shook his head emphatically.

Flack looked back at the body. He had known Collier, not well but well enough to use first names and feel comfortable about asking each other about their families. Don remembered that Collier wasn't married but had a mother and father who lived in Queens. Collier's father was a retired cop.

Danny, Stella, and Don all noticed the smell, a mixture of warm, salty and sweet Chinese cooking. Danny would have liked an order of fried wonton or something else that looked good. Maybe he could suggest to Stella that when they finished outside they might go inside, ask some questions, get something to eat.

Stella gently touched the neck of the dead man and turned the body slightly. It was tight behind the Dumpster but she managed to reach back for her small hand vacuum and use it on the victim's jacket, neck, and hair.

Flack wasn't thinking of Chinese food. Not that he didn't like it, but the dead man was on his mind and he was focused.

"Thanks," he said to the young woman.

She didn't have to translate. The heavy-set man glanced at the body and hurried back into the restaurant. The girl handed Flack's coat back to him. Their eyes met. There might have been something there, but he wasn't up to it, not now, not here, not with Collier lying there.

When the girl went back in the restaurant, Flack turned and watched Mac Taylor coming down the alley, moving slowly, hands deep in the pockets of his coat.

Mac stood next to Danny, looking down at the body and Stella kneeling next to it. Mac's lips were closed and tight, his eyes searching the narrow alley.

"Neck's broken," Stella said.

She turned the body on its side. It was a tight fit and the dead man was heavy. She could have asked for help, but she didn't want to contaminate the site any more than it had been already.

"Alley's full of prints in the snow," said Danny. "At least six different people. I've taken footprints."

Danny had first used an aerosol spray snow print wax to retain the details of the prints and stop the effects of melting. Then he had taken a casting of each print, using a pouch of casting powder mixed with water, which he kneaded and poured directly from the pouch into the print, adding a couple of pinches of salt to speed the setting of the plaster.

"Any particularly large?" asked Mac.

"One set," said Danny. "Clean one over here."

Danny knew why Mac had asked about large prints. Collier was over six feet tall and more than two hundred pounds. He was also in good shape, worked out. Hawkes would weigh him to get an exact figure.

Whoever had killed Collier had been stronger and at least as big as the detective, if it was one killer. Again, Hawkes would be able to tell them more.

Danny pointed to a trio of footprints heading toward the Dumpster and then at two more, approximately the same size, heading away. The ones heading away weren't as deep as the ones heading toward the Dumpster. The weight of Collier's body had been off of the shoulders of the man who had dropped the body.

"Get a cast of the footprints moving away," said Mac. "Measure the snow density. We'll find a formula to be sure that he was carrying Collier's body. Check Collier's wallet. See what it gives as his weight."

Danny nodded. There was no doubt that the footprints belonged to the bearer of Collier's body, but it might come down to evidence given in court and Mac wanted everything confirmed.

Flack joined Danny and Mac and watched Stella work.

The question didn't have to be asked, but all four members of the CSI unit knew the odds of the detective's murder being connected somehow to the murder of Alberta Spanio, the woman he had been protecting only hours ago.

Stella was up now, taking off her gloves.

Mac could see the places on the Dumpster that had been dusted for prints. There were plenty of them, but it wasn't likely that any belonged to whoever had dropped Collier's body here.

"He wasn't killed here," Stella said.

Mac nodded.

"No footprints in the snow behind the body," she said. "If he was killed and pushed over, he'd have to be turned around. No sign of that."

"No signs of struggle," said Mac.

"That too," said Stella.

"We've got footprints," said Danny.

It was Stella's turn to nod. There was nothing more for them to do here. The rest would be done in the lab.

Each of them had a theory, one they were ready to give up or modify with the next piece of evidence.

Flack's first thought was that Collier had found a lead to Alberta Spanio's murderer, followed it and got spotted by the killer.

Danny considered that Collier may have seen or remembered something about the murder and either told the wrong person, or the killer figured out that Collier knew something that might reveal who he was.

Stella considered that Collier might have been involved in the murder of Alberta Spanio and had been killed to protect the killer or killers.

"Ed Taxx," Mac said. "Bring him in. He may be on the killer's list. If Collier saw or knew something that got him killed, Taxx might know the same thing."

Flack nodded.

"And let's find Stevie Guista," Mac added, glancing at the body and nodding at the paramedics who had just arrived.

Mac checked his watch.

"Anyone hungry?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Danny, rubbing his hands together and shifting his feet which were beginning to feel numb.

"I'll pass," said Stella.

Don shook his head and watched the paramedics move the Dumpster and zip the dead man into a black bag.

The quartet didn't move. They watched silently until the body was well down the alley. Mac noticed a trio of wrapped fortune cookies lying in the snow where the Dumpster had been. He knelt and picked them up.

Mac and his wife had been to Ming Lo's once. They'd had fortune cookies that night. He didn't remember what they said.

After a few seconds, he dropped the unopened fortune cookies in the Dumpster and turned to the others, saying, "Dim sum?"

Big Stevie knocked at the door and waited while Lilly said, "Who is it?"

"Me, Stevie," he said.