Carl looked up from his plate of distinctly charred breakfast as Beth entered the dining room.

'Hi, honey,' said Beth, sinking onto a chair opposite her husband. 'He had a moment of slight uncertainty just before we reached the school, but he got off okay in the end.'

'Why'd you have to take him to school so early?' Carl grumbled. 'It's a really big day for me and there's something wrong with that frying pan!'

'Now come on, Carl,' Beth said severely, 'you know it's a big day for Kevin too. This is his first time spending the night away from home.'

'What about when he spent two nights in Connecticut with that friend of his?' Carl pointed out.

'Okay, so it's his first time away from home with the school,' Beth amended, 'and this is for five nights, remember, not just two. And I don't think he feels completely at ease around his new friends yet, but he and Oscar are very comfortable with each other.'

'Yes, I know they are,' Carl snarled. 'You didn't tell him you were worried about him, did you? You'll turn him into a pansy if you say stuff like that to him.'

'Carl, don't be like that,' Beth admonished. 'And I know you're worried about him too, so you needn't pretend you're not!'

'Where's this stupid place he's gone to anyways?' said Carl.

'Little Canada,' said Beth. 'It's an adventure activity centre.'

'Hmm, I guess that's not so bad,' said Carl. 'Maybe it'll make a man of him.'

'Sometimes I think he's already more of a man than you are!' Beth snapped.

Carl looked hurt and Beth immediately looked guilty.

'I'm sorry, honey,' she said. 'I didn't mean that.'

'You did,' Carl shrugged. 'And maybe you're right, I don't know...'

'You're nervous about today, aren't you?' Beth said sympathetically. 'I should've thought about your feelings. I'm sorry – I really am.'

'It's fine,' said Carl, 'and I'm sorry too. I have to go now.'

He pushed aside his plate and rose to his feet. Beth straightened his badge and brushed the crumbs off his front, before giving him a kiss on the cheek.

'You'll be fine, honey,' she said.

'Work experience at my age,' Carl sighed. 'How humiliating.'

'It's a day's secondment to another department, not work experience,' said Beth. 'The Fifteenth Detective Squad has one of the highest clean-up rates in the city, doesn't it? It's a fantastic opportunity for you to start getting the experience you need so you can get your hands on that gold shield.'

'Yes, I know,' said Carl. 'I'm very grateful... and I hope Kevin has a good time on his adventure trip... and I hope you have a good day too, honey. I'll see you tonight.'

With that, Carl left the house.

Carl entered the detectives' squad room at the Fifteenth Precinct, taking in at a glance the dingy space full of cluttered desks. The reception area was separated from the main part of the room by a small wooden gate, and featured three plastic chairs to sit and wait on. Opposite the chairs was a small reception desk at which a slightly-built blond man was sitting.

'Er, hi,' Carl said to him. 'Am I in the right place for the Fifteenth Detective Squad?'

'You certainly are, Officer,' the receptionist replied, fixing Carl with a winning smile. 'What brings you here today?'

'I'm supposed to be shadowing a couple of the detectives,' said Carl. 'My name's Carl Rivera.'

'Oh, of course, Officer Rivera,' said the receptionist. 'I'm John Irvin, the PAA. Here come some of the detectives now; I'll introduce you to them.'

Four men entered the room and pushed through the wooden gate without looking at Carl. Carl saw that the first two were short, white and quite old, while the third was young, black, very tall and very muscular. The final detective to enter the room was also quite young, but short and white like the first two; the receptionist managed to catch his eye.

'Detective Sorenson?' said John. 'This is Officer Carl Rivera, who's with us today if you remember?'

'Oh yeah, right,' said Sorenson. 'Hey, how's it going? I'm Detective Danny Sorenson.'

He proffered his hand and Carl shook it. Sorenson then led Carl past the wooden gate and right in amongst the cluttered desks.

'Everyone, this is Officer Carl Rivera,' said Sorenson. 'Carl, these are Detectives Baldwin Jones and Greg Medavoy...'

'Hey,' said the enormously tall and muscular black detective.

'Hey, how's it going?' said his much older, much shorter partner.

'...and this is my partner, Andy Sipowicz,' Sorenson concluded.

'Hey, how's it going?' Sipowicz said disinterestedly, hardly glancing at Carl.

'You're gonna be coming out with me and Andy today,' Sorenson explained to Carl.

'Yeah,' said Sipowicz, 'we're the lucky ones, huh?'

'I'm sorry to put you out, Detective,' Carl could not help but retort.

'Oh, it's no trouble at all, Rivera,' Sipowicz shot back. 'We just love babysitting rookies who're chasing their shields. Really makes our day worthwhile, y'know?'

'I'm not a rookie,' Carl scowled. 'I've been on the job almost fifteen years!'

'You want a medal or something?' Sipowicz replied, eyeing Carl with obvious distaste.

'Come on, Carl,' said Sorenson, 'let's go speak with Lieutenant Fancy.'

Carl found himself propelled into Lieutenant Fancy's office, while Sorenson hung around in the doorway.

'Officer Carl Rivera, Lieutenant,' he said, and then shut the door and wandered back into the main squad room.

'Good morning, Officer Rivera,' said Lieutenant Fancy, frantically stuffing a large box of chocolate éclairs into his desk drawer and fighting to swallow the last of the mouthful he had just been eating. 'Good to have you here.'

'Thanks for inviting me, Lieutenant,' said Carl. 'I really appreciate the chance to get some on-the-job experience as a detective.'

'Think nothing of it, Carl,' Lieutenant Fancy smiled at him, licking the last remnants of chocolate and cream from his lips as he did so. 'When I heard you'd put in for your shield, I couldn't resist the chance to bring you into my squad for the day.'

'Why's that, Lieutenant?'

'I knew your father, Carl... and I met your son a few weeks ago,' said Lieutenant Fancy. 'You have a fine boy – he saved a man's life, you know.'

'Yes, Lieutenant, I did know that.'

'He and that buddy of his did a great job. Think he'll follow in your footsteps one day and join the department?'

'I don't know,' Carl said uncertainly. 'Nothing would make me happier, but he's never really shown any interest in police work and... well, I'm not sure he's exactly cut out for it, to tell you the truth.'

'Really?' said Lieutenant Fancy, sounding very surprised. 'He seemed a perfect cop in the making to me – brave, resourceful, strong, compassionate...'

'Yeah, I know he's all those things and I'm very proud of him for what he did,' said Carl, 'but I also think he might be... well, not exactly the right kind of... I mean, he might not have the...'

The door of Lieutenant Fancy's office burst open and Detective Sorenson reappeared.

'Sorry to interrupt,' he said, 'but we're up – homicide over in Brooklyn Heights.'

'Any details?' asked Fancy.

'Young Hispanic male found in bed with his throat cut,' said Sorenson. 'That's all we've got so far.'

'Keep me posted,' said Fancy. 'Good luck on your first case, Carl.'

'Thanks, Lieutenant,' said Carl.

Carl followed Sipowicz and Sorenson into the apartment. Several uniformed officers were milling about, and a crime scene photographer was taking pictures of the bloody corpse on the bed in one corner of the room.

'What do we got?' Sipowicz asked one of the uniformed officers.

'DOA's been identified as Keith Guiterrez, twenty-three years old,' the officer replied. 'Looks like his throat was cut while he slept.'

'Any sign of forced entry?' asked Sorenson.

'No,' said the uniformed cop. 'The door was unlocked when the body was discovered, so it could be the DOA forgot to lock it last night.'

'I guess he won't be making that mistake again,' Sipowicz remarked.

'It could also be that whoever killed him had a key and let themselves in, but didn't bother locking the door behind them when they left,' said Carl.

'Yeah, thanks for pointing that out, Rivera,' said Sipowicz. 'Jeez, it's really a good thing you're here to make sure we're doing our job right, ain't it, Danny?'

'Was anything taken from the apartment?' Sorenson asked the uniformed cop.

'We don't think so – nothing seems to've been disturbed,' the officer replied. 'It looks like whoever did this just came in, slit the guy's throat and left.'

'Probably some personal trouble that spiralled out of control, maybe with a friend or family member,' Sorenson deduced.

'Either that or one of his neighbours just didn't like living next-door to a beaner,' said Sipowicz.

'What?' Carl exclaimed indignantly.

'Relax, Rivera,' said Sipowicz. 'What, you want me to pretend there's no racism in this city just because he's one of yours, huh?'

'No,' said Carl, 'but you don't have to –'

'Andy didn't mean anything, Carl,' Sorenson cut in. 'Who found the body, Officer Goody?'

'It was called in by Orson Bennett, also twenty-three years old,' said Officer Goody.

'Relative?' asked Sorenson.

'Just a friend,' said Officer Goody, 'he says.'

'One of them?' asked Sipowicz.

'No, he's white,' said Goody. 'He's in the kitchen with a female officer, having a cup of tea.'

'We need to talk to this guy right now,' said Sipowicz. 'Hopefully he's finished his tea!'

Sorenson was sitting at the kitchen table opposite Orson Bennett, giving him a comforting smile, while Sipowicz paced around the room in a very restive way. Carl had decided to go for something in between these two approaches, and was standing at the head of the table with an impassive look on his face.

'Tell us about your relationship with Keith, Orson,' said Sorenson.

'Relationship?' Orson repeated, wiping his hand across his reddened eyes.

'You guys were friends, right?' Sorenson prompted.

'Yeah,' said Orson. 'Best friends since we're eleven.'

'We're sorry for your loss,' Sipowicz said to the fridge.

'Thanks,' said Orson.

'Tell us about what happened this morning,' said Sorenson.

'Okay,' said Orson. 'I came by to see if Keith was ready to go to work – we're construction workers, doing a big job over in the East Village. We take the subway together every morning... we took the subway together every morning...'

'And you found your buddy in bed with his throat cut?' said Sipowicz.

'Y... yes,' Orson sniffled.

'Yeah, huh?' said Sipowicz, giving him a suspicious look.

'When's the last time you saw him alive?' asked Sorenson.

'About one o'clock this morning,' said Orson. 'I only live two floors down – we usually spend some time together in the evening, after work.'

'Doing what?' said Sipowicz.

'Talking and drinking and watching TV and stuff,' said Orson. 'I left here at about one this morning and Keith was fine... then I came back six hours later and found him dead!'

'Did you notice if he locked the door after you when you left last night?' asked Carl.

'Um... I think so,' said Orson. 'Yeah, I'm sure he did – I heard him turning the key.'

'You didn't think it was suspicious when you found the door unlocked this morning, when you came back?' said Carl.

'Not particularly,' said Orson. 'I didn't really think about it – I just knocked, waited a couple of minutes, turned the handle and walked in. Then I saw... then I saw...'

'All right, we already know that part,' said Sipowicz. 'Stop distressing the witness, Rivera, huh?'

'Orson, I'm sorry to have to ask you this, but do you know anyone who might have any reason to kill Keith?' asked Sorenson. 'It could be anything, no matter how small – we can't rule anything out at this stage.'

'Um... I know he borrowed some money from some guy in the East Village and couldn't pay it back,' said Orson, 'but I think they worked out some kind of payment plan.'

'You know the name of this guy?' asked Sipowicz.

'No,' said Orson. 'I never even saw him!'

'Yeah, that's very helpful,' said Sipowicz.

'As far as you know, were you the last person to see Keith alive?' asked Sorenson. 'No one else was here with the two of you last night?'

'Keith's fiancée came by at ten,' said Orson. 'They talked together in the kitchen for about five minutes, then she left.'

'This fiancée have a name?' asked Sorenson.

'Katy Olton,' said Orson. 'She lives a few blocks from here.'

'Does she have a key to this apartment?' asked Carl.

'Yeah, I'm pretty sure she does,' said Orson, 'but she didn't use it last night – she knocked on the door and Keith let her in.'

'Would you shut up about the damned key, Rivera?' Sipowicz snarled. 'Write where we can find this girl, Orson.'

Sipowicz produced a small, scruffy pad of yellow paper from his jacket pocket and threw it onto the kitchen table. Sorenson handed Orson a pen and he started to write.

A few minutes later, Orson was being led downstairs by Officer Goody and another uniformed cop. As Carl, Sipowicz and Sorenson approached the head of the staircase, Medavoy and Jones appeared from further down.

'What you got for us, Andy?' asked Jones.

'We need you to bring in this broad,' said Sipowicz, handing him the scrap of paper which Orson had written on. 'We need some answers from her.'

'You might also tell her that her fiancé has been found murdered in his bed,' said Sorenson.

'Okay, Danny,' said Medavoy. 'Don't worry – we'll break it to her gently.'

'Yeah, we know you're real good at that kind of thing, Medavoy,' said Sipowicz.

'What are we gonna do in the meantime?' asked Carl.

'What do you think we're gonna do?' said Sipowicz. 'We're gonna interview Orson!'

'But we did that already,' said Carl.

'That was just an informal chat,' said Sorenson. 'We need to get him back to the station, see if there's anything else he can tell us.'

'You think we didn't get everything?' asked Carl.

'I know we didn't,' Sipowicz said darkly. 'There's something he's not telling us, and we're gonna get it out of him no matter what it takes.'

With that, Sipowicz strode down the staircase with Sorenson close behind him. Jones came next, while Medavoy hung back with Carl.

'Everything okay, Officer Rivera?' asked Medavoy. 'Apart from the murder, I mean.'

'Yeah, I guess so,' said Carl. 'It's just... it's Sipowicz.'

'What about him?' asked Medavoy.

'I just... I can't help feeling he's been looking at me and talking to me like... well, like I remember being looked at and talked to before,' said Carl. 'And the way he talked about Keith... I think he has a racist agenda.'

'Listen, you don't want to worry about Andy,' said Medavoy. 'Yeah, he used to have a big problem with, er... well, with anyone who wasn't like him, if you know what I mean. But since he started working with Lieutenant Fancy and they gained respect for each other... and he was kind of mentoring my old partner James Martinez to get his detective shield... James was one of yours... no offence, buddy.'

'None taken,' Carl said dryly.

'Anyways, back to Andy,' said Medavoy. 'He lost his son to an overdose, and his partner at the squad – Bobby Simone – died of cancer... that was a few years after his old partner, John Kelly, was dismissed for corruption... and then his second wife was murdered and he was left to raise their young son alone... and that son had a cancer scare, but it was a false alarm... and of course Andy's had a couple of prostate cancer treatments himself... and he's an alcoholic, and so is his ex-wife – the mother of his dead son, if you follow me – and he's just really been through a lot, so... yeah, Andy's really changed his outlook on life over the past few years.'

'That's nice for him,' Carl frowned. 'But I still don't like how he was with me.'

'Don't take it personally,' Medavoy advised. 'He's like that with everyone.'

Orson's head slammed down onto the table as Sipowicz tightened his grip on the whimpering guy's neck.

'You'd better start telling us the truth, Orson!' Sipowicz yelled into his ear. 'You're looking at a lethal injection here, but we can help you if you stop spouting a bunch of crap! You killed your buddy Keith, didn't you?'

'I didn't, I didn't!' Orson wailed. 'You can't just accuse me of murder without any evidence!'

'We got witnesses can put you outside Keith's apartment with a bloody knife at six o'clock this morning!' Sipowicz declared.

'We do?' Carl whispered to Sorenson.

'Of course we don't,' Sorenson replied in an undertone. 'Relax, Carl – just let Andy do his thing.'

'I want to speak to my lawyer!' Orson said.

'If you lawyer up then we can't help you,' said Sipowicz. 'Tell us the truth right now and we can get the judge to go easy on you.'

'Look, Orson,' said Sorenson, 'maybe you killed Keith and maybe you didn't...'

'Of course I didn't kill him!' Orson wept. 'I loved him!'

'What exactly does that mean, huh?' Sipowicz snarled.

'Let me up and I'll tell you,' said Orson. 'I'll tell you everything, I promise!'

Sipowicz released his grip and Orson rose back into a sitting position, red in the face and gasping for air.

'When you say you loved him,' said Sorenson, 'do you mean like a brother... or something else?'

'Something else!' said Orson. 'We were lovers, okay?'

'Now we're getting somewhere,' said Sipowicz. 'Listen, Orson – I don't really think you killed your lover, if that's what you want to call it. But you'd better tell us everything you know so we can find out who did!'

'But I told you what I know already!' Orson insisted. 'Keith borrowed money but I don't know who from, and he talked to Katy in the kitchen for five minutes last night!'

'Was it a civil conversation?' asked Sorenson.

'Well... I did hear them shouting,' said Orson. 'And I think someone threw something at some point.'

'So they were arguing?' Sorenson prompted.

'Yeah... yeah, I'd say they were,' said Orson. 'But Katy would never kill him, no matter what they were arguing about!'

'Did Katy know you were banging her fiancé?' asked Sipowicz.

'No,' said Orson. 'Look, he was gonna tell her, okay? He was gonna break off the engagement and tell her the truth about himself, but...'

'Any chance he told her last night in the kitchen?' asked Sorenson.

'No,' said Orson. 'No, he would've said something to me afterward... wouldn't he?'

'How long were you and Keith... together?' asked Carl.

'Since we're fifteen,' said Orson. 'We used to... do stuff together since we first met – y'know, sleep over with each other and... mess around and stuff... and then when we were fifteen we realised what was going on between us, and we stopped just... messing around in the same place and at the same time and started actually... well, doing it to each other, and then...'

'Yeah, okay, that's way more than we needed to know about that!' Sipowicz said insistently.

'When did you first realise you felt that way about each other?' asked Carl. 'Were you twelve or more than twelve?'

'I don't know,' Orson shrugged. 'I guess we always knew, on some level... and then when the time was right, we just... well, y'know.'

'Did you and Keith used to do stuff that you wouldn't expect normal boys to do?' Carl pressed. 'When you were younger than fifteen, I mean – like touching each other too much, and slapping each other around for fun and giggling like a couple of little girls?'

'Officer Rivera, that's enough!' Sipowicz cut in. 'These questions are completely irrelevant and if you don't shut up right now then I'm gonna have to throw you out!'

'I... I'm sorry, Detective,' Carl said humbly. 'I'll shut up right now.'

'We were normal boys, you know,' Orson said. 'Just because we were gay, doesn't mean we weren't normal boys.'

'I'm sorry,' said Carl. 'I didn't mean it like that.'

'Orson, you said earlier that Katy had a key to Keith's apartment?' said Sorenson.

'Yeah, I'm almost certain she did,' said Orson. 'But she didn't let herself in last night, like I said, so I guess she didn't have it with her.'

'Just one last question, Orson,' said Sorenson. 'What were you and Keith doing when Katy knocked on the door? Were you just talking or watching TV, or...?'

'No,' Orson sighed. 'We were... doing stuff on the sofa. Y'know, fooling around... but we stopped when we heard the knock on the door, obviously!'

'Is there any chance Katy could tell what you'd been doing?' Sorenson pressed.

'No!' Orson insisted. 'We put our clothes back on and turned up the volume on the TV and everything seemed perfectly normal!'

'Normal?' Carl could not help but query.

'Innocent,' Orson amended.

'Okay, Orson, that's all we need from you – you're free to go,' said Sorenson. 'We're sorry for your loss – really, we are.'

'Thank you, Detective,' said Orson.

As Carl and the two detectives emerged from the interview room, Medavoy and Jones came up to them.

'Katy Olton's in the locker room,' said Jones. 'We told her we're sorry for her loss.'

'Good job,' Sorenson said approvingly.

'Okay,' said Sipowicz, 'let's see what this broad's got to say for herself.'

He led the way across the squad room and opened the door to another interview area, this one with a row of lockers along one wall and a coffee machine in one corner. A young woman was sitting at the table with her head in her hands.

'She took it pretty hard,' Medavoy said quietly. 'We told her you're just gonna ask her a few routine questions and she doesn't have anything to worry about.'

'Thanks, Greg,' said Sipowicz, and slammed the door in his face.

'Hello, Katy,' Sorenson said to the hunched form at the table. 'We're sorry for your loss.'

'Is it true what they told me?' said Katy, raising reddened eyes to stare at Sorenson. 'Is my Keith really gone?'

'Yes, Katy, I'm afraid he is,' said Sorenson.

Katy wailed and started crying.

'All right, Katy, let's cut to the chase,' said Sipowicz. 'Did you know your fiancé was banging his buddy Orson?'

'What?' Katy yelled, starting to cry even more elaborately.

'Andy, that was...' Sorenson said to his partner.

'What?' Sipowicz replied. 'What was it, Danny?'

'Tactless,' said Sorenson.

'Sorry to've been tactless to you, Katy,' Sipowicz said to the sobbing girl, 'but we need to find out what happened to Keith and we need you to help us, so you need to know what was really going on in his life.'

'It... it's not true!' Katy wailed. 'I don't believe you! We were in love! We were gonna be married!'

'Orson says Keith was planning to break it off with you, Katy,' said Sorenson. 'I'm sorry.'

'Jeez, I can't take this in,' said Katy. 'Unless maybe... maybe Keith did choose me over Orson, and Orson killed him in a fit of jealousy!'

'We don't think that's the case,' said Sorenson, 'but we're not ruling anything out at this stage.'

'Tell us what you know about the money Keith borrowed from some guy in the East Village, Katy,' said Sipowicz.

'Oh... oh, of course! Yes, that must be it!' said Katy. 'Keith borrowed ten thousand dollars about eighteen months ago from a guy called Mo Mowney Junior, and I know he was having problems paying it back – Mo charged interest, of course.'

'Orson mentioned something about a payment plan Keith worked out with Mo,' said Sorenson. 'You know anything about that?'

'No,' said Katy, 'I don't know the details. I'm sorry.'

Sipowicz produced a pad of scruffy yellow paper and a battered old pen, and pushed them across the table towards Katy.

'Write where we can find this guy Mo,' he said.

Katy nodded, picked up the pen and began to write. Carl narrowed his eyes at her.

'We heard you have a key to Keith's apartment, Katy,' he said. 'Is that right?'

'Um... yeah,' said Katy, as she finished writing and put the pen down. 'Yeah, he gave it to me when we got engaged.'

'Why didn't you use it when you went by to see him last night?' asked Carl.

'Well, you see, that key was stolen from me,' said Katy.

'Stolen?' said Sorenson.

'Yeah... or I lost it somewhere,' said Katy. 'It turned up missing a few days ago, and Keith didn't have a chance to get a new copy cut for me.'

'You think Mo could've stolen your key?' asked Sipowicz.

'I don't know,' said Katy. 'I've often been down to the work site to see Keith – y'know, to have lunch with him and stuff – so I guess Mo could've swiped the key then.'

'It's possible,' said Sorenson. 'What was the purpose of your visit to Keith's apartment last night?'

'Oh, nothing special,' Katy shrugged. 'Just to check up on him, maybe see if he wanted me to stay the night... but I saw he was having a boys' night in with Orson so I left them to it.'

'What did you and Keith argue about in the kitchen?' asked Carl.

'We didn't argue!' Katy snapped. 'We just... talked, that's all. Not about anything special.'

'You weren't talking about the fact that Keith and Orson were screwing on the sofa just before you arrived?' asked Sipowicz.

'No!' Katy snarled. 'I didn't know that then, like I said! Can I go now?'

'Of course, Katy,' said Sorenson. 'I'll arrange for a uniformed officer to drive you home.'

Sorenson opened the door of the locker room and ushered Katy out. Sipowicz closed the door behind them.

'That was some nice work, Rivera,' Sipowicz said to Carl. 'You might be on to something with this key business after all.'

'Thanks, Detective Sipowicz,' said Carl. 'You think this guy Mo did swipe it from her?'

'I don't know,' said Sipowicz, 'maybe. But I get the feeling she wasn't telling us everything – she knew more about Keith and Orson than she was letting on, that's the least we can be sure of!'

'I got the same feeling,' said Carl.

'Then maybe we'll make a detective out of you yet,' said Sipowicz.

'What's our next move?' asked Carl.

'We get uniform to bring in this Mo Mowney Junior,' said Sipowicz, 'then we go to town on his ass!'