John put down the phone on his reception desk and turned to face Detective Sipowicz, who was typing up some case notes at his own desk.

'Mo Mowney Junior is on his way in, Detective Sipowicz,' said John. 'Detective Sorenson is waiting for him downstairs.'

'Thanks, John,' said Sipowicz.

John smiled, rose from his desk, went into the locker room and returned a few seconds later with a plastic cup in one hand.

'Here you go, Detective,' said John, as he set the cup down on Sipowicz's desk. 'Nice hot cup of coffee.'

'It don't feel hot to me,' Sipowicz remarked as he picked up the cup.

'Nice cup of coffee,' said John.

'There's a lot of grit floating on the top,' said Sipowicz.

'Cup of coffee,' said John.

'What the hell is this crap?' Sipowicz snarled as he took a sip. 'It sure don't taste like any coffee I've ever had!'

'Cup,' said John.

'Thanks, John,' said Sipowicz.

Carl emerged from Lieutenant Fancy's office at that moment; the lieutenant could be seen shoving a chocolate éclair into his mouth as Carl closed the door behind himself.

'Been bringing the lieutenant up to speed on the case?' Sipowicz asked Carl.

'We've been having a general talk about how things are going today,' Carl replied.

'I've been meaning to ask you, Rivera, what was all that stuff you were bringing up in the interview with Orson?' said Sipowicz. 'Why did you want to know all the sordid details about his sex life with Keith?'

'I just... I couldn't help being reminded of someone... someone close to me,' said Carl. 'Someone I can't help thinking about... and worrying about.'

'You want to narrow that down a little?' said Sipowicz.

'I'm worried about my son,' Carl confessed.

'I know what that feels like,' Sipowicz admitted. 'What's wrong with him?'

'It's just that... he's got this young male friend who he seems really, really close to,' said Carl, 'and I'm worried... well, I think he might be gay.'

A frown crossed Sipowicz's face and he stood up very quickly.

'What the hell is wrong with you, Rivera, huh?' Sipowicz said acidly. 'Are you some kind of a bigot or something?'

Sipowicz went into the locker room and slammed the door behind him. Medavoy looked up from his desk, and smiled to see the bemused expression on Carl's face.

'Sorry, Carl, I forgot to tell you earlier,' said Medavoy. 'Andy is really close friends with John – y'know, our PAA?'

'Hello,' John grinned, giving Carl an elaborate wave. 'I am a homosexual, though you may not have noticed.'

'Andy used to be homophobic, but John made him realise that gay people aren't inherently evil,' said Medavoy, 'then Danny made Andy realise that gay people aren't necessarily child molesters when John offered to babysit for Andy's young son...'

'Dear little Theo,' John smiled fondly.

'...so now Andy has John over to his place the whole time... and John cuts his hair for him in the bathroom here at the precinct, too,' said Medavoy.

'I could give you a quick trim and blow if you want, Officer Rivera,' said John. 'Looks like you could do with one, if you don't mind my saying so.'

'No thanks, John,' said Carl. 'Man, I guess I picked the wrong guy to confide in.'

'I, er... I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but does it really matter if your son is gay?' asked Medavoy. 'I mean, would you love him any less for it?'

'No, I don't guess so,' Carl sighed. 'It's just that I don't... I can't...'

'Is this young male friend of his the same one he saved that guy's life with?'

'Yeah.'

'Exactly how close do they seem?'

'Very close... too close! Oh... sorry, John – I didn't mean...'

'It's okay, Officer,' said John. 'These things aren't always easy to deal with for any of the parties involved; I understand that.'

'It's their physical closeness that worries me most of all,' said Carl. 'When I was Kevin's age I'd never have thrown my arms around another boy and hugged him like I saw Kevin hug Oscar, and I'd never have slept in the same room as another boy with nothing but underpants on either of us, and I'd never have slapped and tickled and rolled around with another boy all over the front hallway!'

'None of that necessarily means he's gay,' said John. 'Obviously the two boys are close friends, but there's a big difference between expressing that friendship physically and developing a homosexual relationship.'

'You think so?' said Carl.

'I know so,' said John.

'Let me ask you something, Carl,' said Medavoy. 'You said you wouldn't have done any of that physical stuff with another boy when you were your son's age, but would you have done it with a girl if you'd had the chance?'

'Um... no, I don't guess I would,' said Carl. 'It's not that I wouldn't have wanted to – I just would've been too embarrassed.'

'Yeah, that's exactly it,' said Medavoy. 'When we're growing up and we're stuffed full of hormones – like your son and his friend are – we feel more comfortable expressing ourselves around members of our own sex, whether we turn out to be gay or straight or something else.'

'Yes, that's true,' Carl agreed. 'But still, I'd never have gone as far as they do!'

'Perhaps you're just inordinately repressed, Officer,' said John, 'if you'll excuse me for suggesting it.'

At that moment Detective Sorenson entered the squad room, propelling a struggling prisoner in front of him.

'This is Mo Mowney Junior,' Sorenson announced. 'He put up a fight when uniform brought him in, and he hasn't stopped fighting yet as you can see!'

'Sipowicz is in the locker room,' said Carl.

'Then let's join him there, Carl,' said Sorenson.

A resounding crack filled the locker room and Mo's head jerked to one side; he spat blood onto the floor.

'You little putz!' Sipowicz growled, rubbing the knuckles of his right hand. 'You'd better start talking or we can't help you any more!'

'You call what you're doing helping me?' Mo said derisively. 'You can suck it, pig!'

Sipowicz stamped on Mo's foot. Mo's cry of anguish reverberated throughout the Fifteenth Precinct.

'We got witnesses can put you outside Keith's apartment with a bloody knife at six o'clock this morning!' Sipowicz snarled. 'You're not the type of guy usually hangs around Brooklyn Heights, Mo – you should've realised people would remember that charming face of yours!'

'You ain't got no witnesses, man,' said Mo. 'I was nowhere near Brooklyn Heights!'

'Listen, Mo,' said Sorenson, 'we're gonna find out who killed Keith Guiterrez... and if we find out you did it, or you've been keeping anything from us, my partner here is gonna get real annoyed.'

'And you wouldn't like me when I'm annoyed,' said Sipowicz.

'So just tell us what you know, huh?' said Sorenson. 'Then if we're satisfied you didn't kill him, you can go.'

'That's the deal you're offering me, is it?' Mo snarled through bloody lips.

'It's the best you're gonna do around here, pal,' said Carl, 'believe me!'

'I didn't kill Keith,' said Mo. 'Like I said, I was nowhere near Brooklyn Heights this morning – just ask my homies Marvin, Roz and Damey.'

'Write where we can find these guys,' said Sipowicz, slapping a scruffy yellow pad onto the table in front of Mo.

'But you did know Keith, right?' said Sorenson. 'He owed you money, didn't he?'

'No!' said Mo.

'No you didn't know him or no he didn't owe you money?' said Sipowicz.

'No he didn't owe me money!' said Mo. 'Yes, I knew him – I never said I didn't know him!'

'We were told he borrowed money from you eighteen months ago,' said Sorenson. 'You saying he didn't?'

'No, I ain't saying that – he did borrow money from me!' said Mo. 'He borrowed ten thousand dollars, but he paid back the final hundred dollars last week, so he didn't owe me anything!'

'You let him pay you back in instalments over eighteen months?' asked Sorenson.

'Yeah,' said Mo. 'We worked out a payment plan – low interest – and he stuck to it, and now we're all square. I didn't have no quarrel with Keith, man.'

'You usually so reasonable about people paying you back, Mo?' asked Sipowicz.

'No, not usually,' Mo shrugged.

'So what was different about Keith?' asked Sorenson.

'I don't know,' Mo shrugged. 'I just... I liked the guy, okay?'

'Were you banging him, Mo?' said Sipowicz.

'What did you say to me?' Mo snarled, rising to his feet. 'What the hell do you think I am?'

Sipowicz punched Mo in the face and he fell to the floor, cursing and wailing in anger and pain. Sorenson helped him climb back onto his chair.

'You'd better not do that again, Mo,' said Sorenson. 'My partner doesn't like people fairly aggressively getting in his face. We know Keith was gay, but we really have no interest in whether you're gay or you knew Keith was gay or if you were having sex with him.'

'Sure they were having sex,' said Sipowicz. 'And to think poor old Orson thought he was the only one. Jeez...'

'Orson? You mean that skinny white guy from the construction site?' said Mo. 'Keith told me he was just a...'

Mo cut himself off abruptly and looked mortified for a second, before reverting to his previous expression of anger and contempt.

'Look, Mo, we really don't need to know any of that,' said Sorenson. 'You're telling us you were nowhere near Brooklyn Heights this morning, and your friends will confirm that?'

'Yes!' said Mo, sounding a little emotional now.

'And you didn't steal the key to Keith's apartment from Katy Olton?' Carl suddenly thought to ask.

'I don't know no Katy Olton, man!' said Mo. 'I've told you everything – now let me go!'

'Okay, Mo,' said Sorenson, 'we'll have you driven home. Er... we're sorry for your loss.'

'But we'll be back in touch if we need anything else from you!' Sipowicz told him.

Mo nodded mutely, and allowed Sorenson to steer him from the room.

Sipowicz and Carl emerged from the locker room just as John was pulling a business card out of a small black purse and reaching for the telephone.

'What you got there, John?' asked Sipowicz.

'Katy Olton's purse, Detective,' said John. 'She forgot it here when she left – she was in such an emotional state – so I'm just about to call her and tell her I've found it.'

'Wait!' Carl said urgently. 'Don't call her yet, John.'

'Why not, Officer?' asked John.

'Call it a hunch,' said Carl. 'Can I take a look in that purse?'

'Legally, no,' said Sipowicz, 'which is to say – yeah, of course you can.'

John passed the purse to Carl, who started rummaging around in it; after a few seconds he uttered a cry of triumph and held up a bunch of metallic objects.

'What you got there, Rivera?' asked Sipowicz.

'Her keys!' Carl declared triumphantly.

'What is it with you and keys?' Sipowicz said, almost smiling in spite of himself.

'We both thought Katy was holding something back when we spoke to her,' Carl pointed out, 'and what she said about that key to Keith's apartment just didn't sound right. If she didn't really lose that key, and no one stole it, and it's still on this key chain...'

'That'd definitely put a new spin on things,' Sipowicz admitted. 'You think Katy killed Keith?'

'She was so quick to suggest that Orson had killed him in a fit of jealousy – she seemed to get over her shock and horror in the blink of an eye!' said Carl. 'She's definitely keeping something from us, and if that key is still here then she's really got some explaining to do, at least.'

Sipowicz nodded and grabbed a set of car keys from his desk, before steering Carl through the wooden gate and out of the squad room.

'Lost time, John,' said Sipowicz.

'What should I do about the purse?' asked John.

'Maybe you don't call Katy yet – maybe you find the purse a half-hour from now, so that's when you call her,' said Sipowicz.

'I understand, Detective,' said John. 'But she might come in anyway when she realises she's lost it.'

'Well then,' said Sipowicz, 'we'd better get moving.'

Sipowicz tried the door of Keith's apartment; it came open at once.

'No good, Rivera,' he remarked. 'It's already unlocked.'

'That's okay,' said Carl. 'I'll try all the keys and see if any of them will lock and then unlock the door.'

'Oh yeah,' Sipowicz realised, 'I guess that's just as good as only unlocking it.'

Carl began trying the keys while Sipowicz kept watch. The fourth key turned in the lock; Carl rattled the handle and the door remained closed. Carl turned the key the other way and tried the door again; it came open.

'Bingo,' said Sipowicz.

When Carl and Sipowicz returned to the squad room, they found Katy Olton and Lieutenant Fancy having an argument over the wooden gate.

'Tell your PAA to give me back my purse right now!' Katy was yelling.

'Of course, ma'am,' said Lieutenant Fancy, 'just as soon as you can provide us with some proof of your identity.'

'How can I do that when it's all in my purse?' Katy wailed. 'I'm Katy Olton – you know I am! Four of your detectives spoke to me earlier today – they can vouch for me! I need that purse back right now – it's got a lot of very important stuff in it!'

Sipowicz caught Lieutenant Fancy's eye and nodded. Fancy nodded back.

'Give her the purse, John,' he instructed.

'Yes, Lieutenant,' said John.

Katy snatched the purse out of John's hand and started frantically rummaging through it, her eyes growing wider and wilder with each passing second.

'My keys!' Katy screamed. 'Where are my keys? What have you done with my keys?'

'Here are your keys, Katy,' said Sipowicz. 'You want them back?'

Katy turned round and made a lunge for the keys, but Sipowicz shoved them behind his back.

'We've discovered something very interesting about your keys, Katy,' Sipowicz continued. 'Tell her about it, Carl.'

'Okay, Detective,' said Carl. 'Katy, you told us that your key to Keith's apartment was either lost or stolen... but it's neither of those, is it? It's right here on your key chain, just like it's always been.'

'No!' Katie yelled. 'No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! You can't do this! You have no right to!'

Detectives Medavoy, Jones and Sorenson had entered the squad room by this point, attracted by Katy's hysterical screams, while Officer Goody and another uniformed cop had entered the room behind Sipowicz and Carl.

'You had that key with you when you went to Keith's apartment last night, didn't you, Katy?' Sipowicz said.

'Yes!' Katy wept. 'Yes, I did!'

'You used it to get into the apartment, didn't you?' Sipowicz pressed.

'Yes, I did!' Katy wailed.

'But you didn't like what you saw in there, did you?' Sipowicz continued.

'No, I didn't!' Katy roared through her tears. 'I saw Keith and Orson going at it on the sofa like a couple of jackhammers! Jesus, I felt sick to my stomach! Keith was my fiancé! We were supposed to get married next month! How could he do that to me?'

'Then what happened, Katy?' Lieutenant Fancy asked softly.

'They hadn't heard me come in, so I left,' said Katy. 'I paced around outside the apartment for a few minutes, trying to think what I was going to do... then I knocked on the door. I heard them scrabbling around, frantically hiding all the signs of their disgusting, perverted, evil –'

'What happened between you and Keith in the kitchen, Katy?' asked Carl.

'I asked him what the hell he thought was he doing screwing Orson on the sofa!' said Katy. 'That was our sofa... or it would've been... it was supposed to be!'

'How did Keith respond?' asked Lieutenant Fancy.

'He said he couldn't marry me!' Katy wept. 'He said our whole relationship was a lie! So I threw a pot at him and told him he'd broken my heart. He said he was sorry... sorry! As if that could make up for what he did to me!'

'So you stormed out in a huff,' said Sorenson. 'I don't think any of us can blame you for doing that, Katy. But you came back to the apartment later, didn't you? In the early hours of the morning?'

'I was fuming all night,' Katy said darkly. 'I had to go back and have it out with Keith! I let myself into the apartment... I just wanted to talk to him – I just wanted him to explain!'

'And you found him in bed, sleeping like a baby,' said Sipowicz, 'didn't you?'

'He was just lying there like he didn't have a care in the world!' Katy spat. 'Sprawled out in his men's pyjamas like everything was normal, not caring the tiniest bit that he'd just blown my world to pieces! I couldn't leave him there like that... I couldn't let him get away with it!'

'What did you do, Katy?' Lieutenant Fancy asked in quiet, deliberate tones.

'It was so easy,' said Katy. 'I went into the kitchen... I picked up the steak knife... I went back to Keith... I watched him sleeping, his chest rising and falling... his throat exposed, so vulnerable, almost begging me to...'

'Go on,' said Lieutenant Fancy.

'I took the knife,' said Katy, 'and I held it over him. Then I pulled it back – I really did – and I thought about everything we'd meant to each other. Then I got back to thinking about what he'd done to me... about the sight of him and Orson on the sofa... and I... I...'

'You killed him,' said Lieutenant Fancy.

'Yes!' Katy wailed. 'Yes, I killed him! I dug the knife into his throat and I just ripped the blade across it as fast as I could. There was blood everywhere... he never even woke up...'

'In that case,' said Lieutenant Fancy, 'you're under arrest for first degree murder... or maybe second degree; we'll have to work that out with the DA.'

'What?' said Katy, suddenly seeming to snap out of the trance-like state she had been in for some time. 'No, you can't! You don't have any evidence! I'll deny everything!'

'You've just made a full verbal confession in front of eight New York City police officers,' Lieutenant Fancy pointed out. 'You're way past denying everything, Katy.'

Officer Goody slapped a pair of handcuffs on Katy; her purse fell to the floor, and Sipowicz chucked her keys on top of it.

'How could he do it?' the hysterical woman screamed. 'How could he promise me all those things... make me love him with all my heart... when it was all a lie? He had to die – he deserved to die! He was nothing but a lying, bean-eating faggot!'

'That's enough out of you, lady,' Sipowicz snarled. 'Get her out of here, Officer Goody.'

Officer Goody did so. Sipowicz nodded in approval before offering his hand to Carl; Carl smiled and shook it.

'Congratulations, Rivera,' said Sipowicz, 'you cracked the case.'

'Well, you know how it is, Andy,' said Carl. 'All in a day's work.'

Carl stuck his head around Lieutenant Fancy's door, just in time to see the lieutenant finishing off another chocolate éclair.

'I'll be off then, Lieutenant,' said Carl.

'Thanks for your contribution today, Carl,' Fancy replied, fighting to swallow his final mouthful as he spoke. 'You really nailed it with Katy Olton – you'll make a fine detective.'

'Thank you, sir,' said Carl.

'I'm sorry about the murder, Carl,' said Fancy. 'I know it's never easy to lose one of your own.'

'One of my... oh, that's okay. I, er, didn't really think of it like that, Lieutenant.'

'Keith Guiterrez paid the price for not being honest about himself with the people he loved the most... but I guess first he'd have to've been honest about himself to himself.'

'Yeah, well... it sure gets you thinking,' said Carl. 'Goodnight, Lieutenant.'

'Goodnight, Carl,' said Lieutenant Fancy. 'Let me know if you ever want to come spend another day with us – we'd be glad to have you.'

'Thanks,' said Carl, 'I will.'

'Goodnight, Officer,' said John, as Carl passed through the wooden gate into the world beyond the squad room.

'Goodnight, John,' said Carl.

Detective Medavoy wandered into the room at that moment.

'Going home, Carl?' he asked conversationally.

'Yes, Greg,' said Carl.

'It was good to work with you today,' said Medavoy, holding out his hand. 'You'll make a good detective.'

'Thanks,' said Carl, shaking Medavoy's hand, 'but you know, there's one thing I still don't understand, Greg.'

'What's that, Carl?'

'If Katy had a problem with Keith being Hispanic, why did she agree to marry him in the first place?'

'She didn't have a problem with him being Hispanic, Carl.'

'But she called him...'

'I know what she called him,' said Medavoy. 'He hurt her so much and she hated him for that; she was just lashing out at the most obvious differences between him and herself. That's the way it always happens.'

'Always?' said Carl, raising an eyebrow.

'Okay, maybe not always,' Medavoy conceded, 'but most of the time. It's basic human nature to revile differences in others – it's how primitive tribes protected themselves from outside disease. Now we recognise the instinct for what it is and we learn to ignore it, by and large. But in moments of weakness it comes straight to mind and we can't help giving in to it, even though we don't really mean it – that's just the way it is.'

'Yeah... yeah, I guess you're right, Greg,' said Carl. 'I'd never really thought about it like that...'

'On a related note, maybe your son is a little different from you,' said Medavoy. 'You find that difficult to process – it's completely natural. But your rational mind will win out. From what I've heard about your son, he's a good kid and he's pretty darned brave, if he's gay or not... and I'm not saying he is, but he might be. You're an okay guy, Carl; you'll work it out.'

'Thanks, Greg,' said Carl.

'You've been drawing parallels between your son and Keith, haven't you?'

'Well... kinda, yeah. I couldn't help it.'

'Are you worried your son's gonna end up in the same situation one day?' asked Medavoy. 'Maybe even turn up dead with his throat cut one morning?'

'No, I don't think that's ever gonna happen,' said Carl. 'Kevin wouldn't have made the same mistake as Keith – Kevin would've told Katy the truth about himself... or at least he wouldn't have gotten engaged to her knowing he was gay.'

'Maybe Keith wasn't gay,' said Medavoy. 'Maybe he was bisexual.'

'Well, whatever the details, Kevin wouldn't hide the truth from her,' said Carl. 'And he wouldn't two-time Oscar with a loan shark either. I may not understand everything about my son... I may not know everything about him... but I do know that.'

Carl stumbled into the living room and slumped onto the sofa. A few seconds later, Beth came and sat down next to him.

'How was it?' she asked.

'It was good,' said Carl. 'I solved a murder.'

'Oh, well done!' Beth beamed at him. 'Another dangerous criminal off the streets, thanks to my husband.'

'I don't know about that,' said Carl, smiling slightly. 'It was more a crime of passion.'

'Oh, yes, speaking of passion... I think we need to talk about Kevin,' said Beth.

'What about Kevin?' said Carl, suddenly wide awake.

'I was doing a deep clean today, as I had the house to myself for so long,' said Beth, 'and I changed all the bed linen.'

'Reasonable thing to do,' Carl remarked.

'Yes, well... I was turning Kevin's mattress before I put his fresh sheets on,' said Beth. 'I don't think it's been turned for over a year, and I thought it would be a good opportunity to do a thorough clean-and-tidy of his room while he's not here and... well, I found this.'

She reached down beside the sofa and produced a glossy magazine, which she handed to her husband. He grasped it tightly, and stared at it for several seconds.

'Oh,' said Carl, turning the magazine over in his hands. 'Oh... thank God!'

'You're... pleased?'

'I'm over the moon! Don't say anything to him about it, Beth. Put it back where it was and never mention it again.'

'Do you really think that's best?' Beth asked uncertainly.

'You'd only embarrass the boy,' said Carl. 'It's a perfectly normal sign that he's growing up perfectly normally. Put it back and forget about it.'

'But don't you think we should talk to him about... well, you know, the birds and the bees?' said Beth.

'It looks like he knows more than enough already,' Carl beamed, flicking through the pages of the magazine. 'Plus they've been teaching him the finer details at school – the last thing he needs is us embarrassing him about it at home!'

'Oh, well, I suppose you're right,' said Beth. 'I just... I hope Kevin feels he can come and talk to us about that kind of stuff, if he wants to.'

'If he wants to, he will,' Carl predicted with confidence, 'but he won't want to! Now go and put this thing back under his mattress and then get my dinner... please.'

'Okay, honey,' said Beth.

Four days later, Carl went to Kevin's school at eight o'clock in the evening to meet the coach on its return journey from Little Canada. Martin and Phoebe were standing either side of the exit door with clipboards, ticking off names as the seventh grade students decamped from the vehicle. Shouldering his overflowing backpack as he disembarked, Kevin was surprised to discern amongst the crowd of parents the warmest, fondest look he had ever seen on his father's face. As Kevin approached, Carl strode up to meet him and clapped him on the shoulder.

'Good to see you, son!' Carl said bracingly.

'Er... it's good to see you too, Dad,' Kevin replied. 'Did you have fun playing at being a detective?'

'I sure did, son,' said Carl. 'I'll tell you all about it when we get home. Lieutenant Fancy thinks a lot of you and your pal Oscar. When's he next coming over? I'd like to shake his hand!'

'You... you would?'

'Of course I would! How'd you like to invite him to stay over one weekend in the near future?'

'Er... yeah, I'd love to, Dad... if you're sure you don't mind.'

'Sure I'm sure,' Carl beamed at his son. 'I tell you what – I'll rent the pair of you a dirty video to watch together! We won't tell your mom. One with girls in it, obviously... only girls... lesbians!'

'Oh my God, Dad, no!' Kevin winced. 'Please don't do that. And I don't want to talk about that kind of stuff... with you... right now.'

'Okay, son, whatever you want,' said Carl. 'So, did you have a good time at camp?'

'It was okay,' said Kevin. 'I mean, I guess it was fun, mostly... but I didn't like the chemical toilets.'

'No one likes chemical toilets, son,' said Carl.