Forever

As you all know, every performance is special.

But tonight... Tonight is history.

It marks the end of a stunning career

of one of ballet's greatest talents, Odessa Kozlova,

a true Prima.

And even though this evening is to be her last on stage,

her legacy will live beyond the ages, forever.

Places, please! One minute to curtain.

Places!

I know you're upset, Lapochka.

But this is for the best.

We both know

that the pain in your movements

is starting to show.

The pain I can take.

It's you I can't stand.

Every human being on this earth

knows that life is not without pain.

For most of us,

it's an inconvenience, a trial to be endured or avoided.

But there are a select few who seek it out,

who use it as a tool to create something so beautiful

that it transcends this world

and makes them immortal.

Company change!

Ten minutes to act two!

Have you seen Eva?

She's not in her dressing room?

No. And it's seven minutes

until her solo performance.

Looks like your new princess got cold feet, Dmitry.

I believe that the only thing that can kill us

is the weapon that made us this way.

I still never summoned up the courage to test my theory.

Be a sport... let me know if you work up the nerve.

St. Timothy's medical group,

records department.

I'm trying to find a woman who may have worked

for one of the New York hospitals,

a nurse, circa 1985.

She was my mother.

Oh, I'm sorry, sir, but to access employee records

we need a formal request from the police

or the medical examiner's office.

Uh, listen, I'll call you back.

Abraham, who was that?

Ah, nobody.

You're hiding something.

What's her name?

You got me.

You know, this may come as a shock to you,

but some people prefer to spend their evenings

in the company of the fairer sex,

not locked away in solitude.

What have you been doing downstairs, anyway?

I was... reading about the life cycle of maggots.

Truly a thrilling subject.

I only tore myself away to get a bottle of water.

Well, I'll let you get to it, then.

Are you ready?

I'm not sure what to expect here.

Trust me, you'll like it.

Okay.

Mmm!

Oh, my God, that's, um...

Homemade paella.

With each bite, you'll swear

you were on the streets of Seville.

Well, I'll have to take your word for it.

I've never been there.

I've never been anywhere. Really?

I happen to know a man with a plane.

You want to take me to Spain?

Doesn't have to be Spain.

Just close your eyes,

point at a spot on the globe, and we'll go.

You know, I have heard of schemes like this...

Rich millionaire men trying to whisk a girl away

using his money and charm...

And my good looks. Don't forget good looks.

You got to admit, it does sound tempting, doesn't it?

Sorry.

Hanson. Hey, what's up?

I'll be right there.

You're ditching me for another body?

Well, part of one, at least.

Sorry to call you so late,

but I figured a guy like you

wouldn't want to miss a chance to go to the ballet.

You know me well.

Hope Isaac wasn't too upset that you left.

How did you know I was with Isaac?

Let me guess... You smelled his cologne?

No, it's just, uh, you seem happy.

It's nice to see you in a good mood.

Something tells me it's not going to last.

How'd the press get here so fast?

Oh, a bunch of 'em were in the audience,

covering the retirement of this ballerina,

Odessa Koza-something.

Kozlova.

Ukrainian, 35, one of 12 living ballerinas

to be given the title of Prima.

It's the equivalent of being a queen.

Yeah, well, Her Majesty's farewell performance

came to a screeching halt when this thing showed up.

Any idea who it belongs to?

A dancer, obviously.

And judging by the dome of her foot,

a rather gifted one.

5'4", female,

and judging by the skin tone,

I'd say that she was of Latin origin... Mexico, perhaps.

Or Cuba?

Meet Eva Selgas...

Only dancer who failed to show for the performance.

Fellow ballerinas said she left rehearsal 'round 3:00

but didn't tell anyone where she was going.

Killer must have nabbed her sometime after that

and hacked off her foot.

"Hacked" is the wrong word.

Serration of the bone suggests

that the killer used some kind of saw.

And judging by the blood coagulation,

I'd say the amputation was made antemortem.

You mean she was still alive when it was cut off?

Yes, but I doubt she suffered long.

With her arcuate artery severed,

Eva must have likely bled to death within minutes.

But I'd need to see the body to confirm that.

Well, gonna be a bit of a problem with that.

We haven't found it yet.

We compared the blood at the scene

to Eva's medical records.

The foot was definitely hers.

Have we notified her family?

We're trying, but I.N.S. is having

a tough time tracking them down.

Turns out Eva's from El Cerro.

It's one of the worst slums in Havana.

You know, it's a pretty odd background for a ballerina.

It's not odd. It's impressive.

To make it out of a neighborhood like that takes determination.

Well, and a whole lot of talent, too.

She was about to become the first ever Prima ballerina

of Cuban descent.

And there's no sign of her body?

No. I talked to all the stage managers

and her fellow dancers.

Nobody saw anything suspicious.

And a search of the theater turned up empty.

Our killer must have cut off her foot in one location,

then dumped it at the scene.

That's a one hell of a statement.

Who are we looking at?

Well, no one yet... Technically, this isn't

a murder investigation without a body.

The mayor's already called me twice.

He wants homicide on this.

Until we find this girl's body,

this story is not going to die.

Do whatever it takes.

Extraordinary, isn't it?

Yeah, I was gonna go with "bizarre."

I mean, what is this?

Eva's foot has all the hallmarks of a ballet star.

Fractured toes, tearing of her anterior ligaments.

She also suffered from tendinitis,

judging by these puncture wounds.

Some sort of steroidal injection,

cortisone perhaps.

All that to just twist around in a tutu, huh?

Yes, it's hard to believe what some people will do for art.

Henri!

Glad you decided to come

before the cops broke up our little soiree.

This isn't the house call I was picturing.

You said you were sick.

It was Picasso's idea.

We knew you would never turn up for merely a party, ah.

Which is damn shame, if you ask me.

This is Paris, Henry.

You should be out, wandering these fair streets

with a beautiful girl on your arm.

I did have a girl, Ernest,

but she left me for a charming American novelist.

Ah, yes, I seem to have forgotten her.

Maybe you should, too.

Let him go.

I won't have you spoiling my celebration

by fighting with Hemingway again.

What are we celebrating?

Three of my latest works were just accepted by the salon.

Not bad for a provincial farm girl, hmm?

Congratulations! They're unbelievable!

Well, you might say I've been

particularly inspired lately, hmm?

Excuse me for a moment.

Valerie, it's time to say good night, I'm afraid.

Valerie! Valerie!