Free Dead on the Dance Floor by Heather Graham

I’ll see you later. I’m starving—it was a long day. I got busy and forgot to eat. I’m dying for a hamburger.”
    Quinn nodded, but at the moment, he didn’t feel the slightest twinge of hunger. He’d stood through a number of autopsies and he’d never gotten sick or fainted—as some of the biggest, toughest guys he knew had done—but he’d never gotten over a certain abdominal clenching in the presence of a corpse. Time and experience didn’t 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.
    â€œYou’ll be around later?” Duarte said.
    â€œSure,” 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.
    Â 
    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 he’d worked prior to leaving for Quantico. He wished that Dilessio had been assigned to the Trudeau investigation. He was certain he wouldn’t be taking dance lessons if the chips had fallen that way.
    â€œHey, stranger, haven’t seen much of you,” Dilessio greeted him. “Seems we’re living only a few feet away from one another, too. You’re moored at the marina by Nick’s, right? Thought you were taking off for the Bahamas.”
    â€œI was.” Quinn shrugged. “I’m investigating the Trudeau case.”
    â€œTrudeau?” Dilessio arched a brow. “Sounds familiar.”
    â€œThe dancer who died.”
    â€œI thought that was ruled accidental. Last I heard, Dixon was just tying up the reports to close the case.”
    â€œIt was ruled accidental.”
    â€œBut someone thinks it wasn’t?”
    â€œSomething like that.”
    â€œSo who are you working for?”
    â€œThe word ‘work’ would imply pay.”
    â€œOh, yeah, that’s right. They’re calling your brother twinkle-toes on the beat. Not without some envy, I might add. I hear the kid is really good.”
    â€œI wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him dance yet.”
    â€œNo?”
    â€œI didn’t even know he was dancing until this all came up.”
    Jake shrugged and nodded. “I saw him not too long ago. He said you’d 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.”
    â€œNot really. If I’d been good enough, she wouldn’t be dead.”
    â€œHow long have you been in this business? You can’t blame yourself for all the bad shit that goes down.”
    â€œYeah, I know. But I can’t stop it from bugging me, either.”
    Jake shrugged and said, “That’s true. But at least it’s better than the shit that goes unpunished.”
    â€œI guess you’re right. Anyway, the dancer who died was connected with Doug’s studio. I’m doing a little follow-up of my own.”
    â€œWell, Dixon is known to show up at Nick’s in the evening. No wife, no kids, no kitchen. He eats a hamburger there almost every night. I’m heading home now. In fact, if you’re free, I’ll buy you dinner.”
    â€œIf you’re buying me dinner, I’m not exactly free, but at least, at Nick’s, I’ll be cheap. Sounds good to me. Where’s your wife? Is she joining us? I saw her when I tied up the other day. That baby’s due awful soon, isn’t it?”
    â€œToo soon. Three weeks. And she went up to