La Danza Morte' - Robert F. Clifton (inspirational books to read .txt) 📗

this case Gabriela Brunsdorff.”

“I see. Well that dispels that rumor. May I ask what you plan to do now in reference to the ballet?”

“I plan to allow it to go on depending on what terms I come to in dealing with Natasha Dubcek's agent. Of course much depends on the turn out now that the public knows about Gabriela.”

“Do you know where I could find Mr. Balak? I'd like to talk with him'.

“The entire troupe is staying at the Trinidad Hotel. You can probably find him there.”

“Thank you Mr. Rogers. You've been a big help.'

“My pleasure. If you need to see me again just call and make arrangements with my secretary.”

“I will sir, good by.”

As he walked out on to the boardwalk, he caught the smell of salt water carried on the breeze coming in off of the ocean. He looked towards the water seeing small waves slowly breaking then rolling up on the sand. The sun was rising but not quite directly overhead and was not generating any heat on this chilly morning. Somewhere, someone was cooking and he caught the aroma of fresh coffee and fried bacon and the sense of smell made his stomach rumble.

He pulled into the portal of the Trinidad Hotel. As he got out of the unmarked radio car he was met by the doorman. “Leave it right here. I won't be long”, said Wallace showing his badge. Entering the hotel lobby he made his way to the registration desk. “May I help you sir?” asked the desk clerk.

“Yes. Do you have a Mr. Alan Balak registered here?, asked Wallace.

“On moment sir,” said the clerk as he turned the registration book and looked at the names registered in it. “Yes sir. Would you like me to call his room?”

“Please.'

After a few minutes the clerk said, “I'm sorry sir there is no answer. Would you care to leave a message?”

“Yes, I'll be right back. Wallace walked over to the writing desk in the lobby. He sat down and on hotel stationery wrote, “Mr. Balak, please contact Detective Robert Wallace at the Major Crime Squad, Nautilus Beach Police Department.' He folded the note and placed it in an envelope then wrote Balak on it. Walking back he said to the clerk as he handed the envelope to him, “See that Mr. Balak get's this please.”

“Yes sir.”

At exactly one pm Wallace returned from lunch carrying a white paper bag. Inside the bag was a Styrofoam cup of coffee, creamers, packets of sugar and plastic stirrers. Wallace was a confirmed coffee drinker, consuming between six and eight cups a day. At the same time ``he usually smoked two packs of cigarettes a day. When working a case and with the adrenalin raised, it was not unusual for him to go through three packs, smoking one cigarette after the other as he worked. When he entered the squad room he saw a small, portly man sitting next to his desk.

From where he stood Wallace estimated that the man was in his mid fifties. He wore a rumbled, black suit, white shirt, blue tie and brown shoes that didn't really go with the clothes he was wearing.

Wallace walked up to his desk, placed the paper bag on the desk top, looked at the man and said, “Can I help you?”

“Are you Detective Wallace?”, asked the man.

“Yes I am”.

“I'm Alan Balak. I got your note.”

“Sorry to have to take up your time Mr. Balak, but there are a few questions only you can answer in relation to the death of Miss Brunsdorff. I intended to speak with you at the hotel, but the desk clerk said that you weren't in your room.”

“I was busy with Gabriela's contract. The production company doesn't want to pay for her last performance. They claim that since she collapsed on the stage the incident legally means that she did not finish her dance and that she shouldn't be paid.”

“I see. Still, I want to thank you for coming in to see me.”

“No problem Officer. I had to come to city hall to pick up her death certificates. Unfortunately they're not ready yet. Seems the attending physician who pronounced her dead has not signed them. Now, since I'm here. What would you like to know?”

“Let's start with your relationship to Miss Brunsdorff.”

“Fine. I'm her agent and manger and have been for the past seventeen years.”

“ I have to let you know that I have to get personal.

As her agent what was your financial situation with Miss Brunsdorff?”

“The typical ten per cent.”

“Ten per cent of her salary?”

“Ten per cent of anything she made, dances, endorsements, television appearances, things of that nature.”

“I see. It seems to me that with her popularity she was often in demand. Looks like you will be losing a great deal of money now that she's gone.”

“Yes, but it had to end someday. A ballerina's career is often very short. Rarely does a dancer of her caliber dance past the age of thirty”.

“And how old was Gabriela?”

“Almost thirty five.”

“What can you tell me about her health?”

“You probably know by now that she had what is called

atrial fibrillation.”

“Yes, I do. I also know that she was prescribed Lanoxin to treat the condition.”

“That's true.”

“And, her heart problem didn't present any problems for her?”

“None what so ever. Her only problem was aging. It's not easy for a ballerina in her mid-thirties to dance and appear as a young Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty.”

“Once again, I need to get personal. Did you have any type of insurance policy on Miss Brunsdorff?”

“No.”

“To your knowledge did anyone else have one?”

“Not that I know of. I certainly didn't.”

“O.K. that about answers the questions I wanted to ask you today. What happens now?”

“Do you mean to the ballet or to me?”

“Both.”

“As for the ballet, I left Mr. Rogers office this morning with the understanding that the dance will go on with Natasha Dubcek as the ballerina. As for me, who knows?”

“Perhaps you'll represent another dancer.”

“ Dancers and in particular ballerina's must have a certain body type. First, they must have a high arch foot with a high instep. The girl must be able to turn ninety degrees of turnout from each hip from the hip rotators, not the knees or ankles.

She must have long, stretchy Achilles, long legs, arms and neck, but with a short torso. When it comes to her legs there should be hyper-extended knees and with the calves going slightly back. Of course, she must have a small, round, head. No body curves. On top of those things I just mentioned she must know how to dance. So you see Detective, only two per cent of the female population is born with what is called a ballet body which is much more than the right height and weight. A ballet dancer should be at or around five feet, five inches tall and weigh one hundred and five pounds. Now, tell me, do you have someone in mind that I can represent?”

“No I don't. You mentioned the fact that Natasha Dubcek will now become the ballerina, who made that decision?” asked Wallace.

“The Artistic Director Viktor Baranovsky who is also the choreographer and with the approval of Anthony Rogers, I assume.”

“What about Miss Dubcek’s agent?”

“Harry Brummel? He has no control over who dances and who doesn’t. That decision is made between the Artistic Director and the Producer.”

“I have one other question And then I'll let you go Mr. Balak. Who is allowed or is present at any time in Miss Brundorff's dressing room?”

“Margaret Helms, Gabriela, once in awhile Viktor, and naturally myself.”

“Who is Margaret Helms. She's new to me?”

“Gabriela's dresser.”

Wallace wrote the name down on a sheet of paper. “Thank you Mr. Balak. You've been a big help. How long will you be in town?”

“One or two more days. It depends on how Mr. Rogers responds to my request for payment to Gabriela's estate. After that I'll be home in Philadelphia. Here's my card. If you need something just call.”

“Thanks again”, said Wallace as he shook Balk’s hand.

After Balak left Wallace turned to his typewriter and began writing his report. As he typed he mentally went over the facts as he knew them. “Now, two new names come into the picture, the Artistic Director, Viktor Baranovsky and Margaret Helms. How many more, I wonder?” he thought to himself. He removed the last typed page from the typewriter, signed his name, opened the file and as he was about to place the report inside he stopped, seeing the torn handbill with the thumbnail photo of Natasha Dubcek. He picked up the torn piece of the playbill and looked long at the picture, seeing again the dark eyes and the small mouth with just a hint of a smile. Placing the paper back into the file he reached for the pack of cigarettes on his desk. When he did he saw the white paper bag containing the coffee. “Son of a bitch!”, he said aloud. After removing the cup from the bag he removed the lid and drank the coffee, even though it was cold.

Next, he called the C.S.I. Unit. When a technician answered the telephone Wallace asked about what they had found from the evidence he had submitted for examination. “We are still testing the frosted glass. When we have a result we'll let you know. As for the glass shard we did find a smeared latent print. It's useless as far as being used as evidence,” said the technician.“Alright, thank you”, Wallace replied and hung up. He then dialed the number for Anthony Rogers Production. When the woman answered he identified himself and asked to speak to Mr. Rogers. After a couple of minutes Rogers came on the line. “Officer Wallace, what can I do for you?”

“I understand that you're going ahead with the Baranovsky Ballet,” said Wallace.

“That's correct. I decided to go ahead with the production. To my surprise not too many ticket holders are requesting a refund and sales at the widow are still going on.”

“Hey that's great, looks like you won't be losing money after all.”

“Well school's still out on that. I had to go to another insurance company in order to continue the show. Naturally after Gabriela's death and the word out in the insurance world that someone might have to pay me, rates all of a sudden went up, However, that's the price of doing business. Now, why did you call and I know that it's not to tell me what you heard about me continuing with the ballet.”

“Very good Mr. Rogers. Actually I need a favor”.

“What kind of favor?”

“Since you are the producer I was wondering if it would be possible for me to look in and watch a rehearsal?”

“Are you telling me that all of a sudden you are interested in the art of dance officer Wallace?

“No sir. I want to watch in order to see the moves the ballerina makes as she dances. The pathologist mentioned the possible of exertion being one of the causes of Miss Brunsdoff 's death. At the same time I need to question Natasha Dubcek.”

“Why are you asking me. As a police officer you don't need my permission to watch a practice of ballet and the Convention Center Ballroom is city property.”

“True, but it's a question of ethics. It's your show, your money and technically, Miss Dubcek is presently one of your employees.”

“I see. Well, thank you for your consideration. I'll contact Viktor and tell him that you'll be about somewhere in the ballroom. I think rehearsals take place from ten in the morning until noon then again from one to three. O.K.?”

“Thanks, Mr. Rogers.

“No problem, take care.”

After hanging up the telephone Wallace wrote the rehearsal times in his notebook. He then looked up to see Sergeant John Ackerman coming towards him.

“Wallace? Bring me up to date. What do we have?”, asked Ackerman.

“Right now, besides a dead ballerina in the morgue, a useless shard of glass, one frosted glass that I'm still waited for results from testing and a