The Riveras Episode 4: October – All in a Day's Work
Written by Jake Collins
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.
'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.'
'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.
'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!'
'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.
'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.'
'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.
'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!'
'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!'
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.
'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.
'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.'
'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.
'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.'
'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.'
'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.'
'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.
'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.
'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.
Disclaimer: NYPD Blue © Steven Bochco Productions, 1993-2005.
