I'm not a squeamish person by nature. I think thats why I joined the army at 18 and signed up to train as an MP. It is also the reason why, when I was discharged from the army, after six years of active duty, some of which was overseas in the Persian Gulf during Operation Desert Storm, I decided I wanted to be a New York City cop. You cant be squeamish in this job or you will lose your sanity.

I guess it was a far cry from the dancer my mom wanted me to be, and the teacher my dad expected I would be. Mom looked at my 58" frame, lean from all the army training, my long legs, and blond hair and figured I would be the next Ginger Rogers. Dad was a teacher and thought I might follow in his footsteps. But sitting behind a desk trying to beat knowledge into a bunch of juvenile delinquents all day, while appealing, wasnt really what I wanted to do with my life. I have always been a person of action, and I knew there was plenty to be had in the NYPD.

After graduating from the police academy with high honors, I was assigned a uniformed job on the lower east side. Known traditionally as the Bowery, it was the home of Little Italy, China Town and a half a dozen other older ethnic neighborhoods, as well as most of the anglo wino population of Manhattan. We might not have the same ethnic mix as say the upper east and west sides, places like Harlem, with its large African American population and Washington Heights, with its large Hispanic communities, but we have gang wars and drugs to deal with too. And I saw my share of action, some of which was as gruesome as anything I had seen during the Gulf War.

Owing to the fact that I was ambitious, I took my detectives test after only 9 months on the force and passed. I asked to be assigned to my old precinct, since I knew everyone there. My only problem was Jim ORiley, my partner. He was OK, but didnt trust me. I guess I was used to his brand of prejudiced, I had dealt with it my whole army career. It wasnt my nationality, which was Danish, German and a smattering of Irish. Nor was it my religion, I really didnt practice any, even tho my dad was a staunch Lutheran and my mother as equally a staunch Roman Catholic (she is the one that gave me the smattering of Irish). The real problem ORiley had with me was the fact that I was a woman. He didnt trust women cops.

He wasnt alone in his prejudice, but I didnt have to work as closely with the other chauvinists in my precinct. I did have to work with him everyday. I guess it was no surprise, then, that he went all macho on me in his time of need and got himself killed on duty. It wasnt fair, but I never will believe to this day that it was my fault either.

We had been on a stake out, checking out a lead to do with a rash of young male deaths in the neighborhood. I'm pretty good with the Internet. ORiley, an older cop, didnt seem to care for the electronic age, so he left the research to me. I had discovered a group of skin heads that might be behind the murders of mainly ethnic males, ages ranging from 13 to 25. Most of the vics were of southern and eastern European descent, with a few Asians thrown in for good measure. All six had been gruesomely killed, the most telling similarity in all of the cases being the fact that the males had their genitals missing. ORiley and some of the other detectives thought that it was the work of some crazed female killer. I hadnt heard of a woman that would mutilate young men like that for kicks. The only women crazy enough to resort to that sort of butchery were the jilted wives and lovers of men who couldnt keep it at home. This was definitely different. The only other explanations that were bandied about the precinct were gang retaliations or drug turf wars. Most of those kinds of murderers didnt bother castrating the vics, so I wasnt convinced. That is when I went on the Internet looking for other motives. The other detectives thought I was nuts to think that these murders might be racially motivated, O Riley included. The captain was more open minded and asked us to check it out.

We were staking out the apartment of a possible suspect, when things went bad. ORiley saw some suspicious movements coming from the apartment window of the suspect and told me to sit tight while he investigated. I told him that I needed to be with him and call in back up. He said screw the back up, he was going to get this collar and I was to sit tight. He mumbled something under his breath as he left the car about not letting a dame screw up his chance at a promotion. I was a bit surprised that he would even do this, being he didnt believe that this was a legitimate suspect, but like I said, ORiley was a chauvinist, and as I had learned early in our partnership, a bit of a glory hog. He went into the building, and me, being a good cop who plays by the rules even if her partner doesnt want to, called for back up and got out and followed him in.

He had a few minutes head start on me, so I didnt see him when I entered the building. Proceeding cautiously, I went looking for him. The building looked deserted. It was in bad shape, another example of slum lord indifference our fair city had been plagued with. As I rounded the stairs to the 5th floor I saw a door swing close. On the door in faded letters was stenciled in chipped white paint Roof. I opened the door, my service revolver drawn. I heard voices from the far end of the roof, on the other side of the door well. ORiley was telling someone to drop their weapon. I rounded the side of the well only to see a large, white male-- 20-ish, with a bald head--- pointing a weapon at my partner. ORiley, instead of keeping his eyes on his suspect, averted his vision to me. He had his weapon trained on the suspect, but in his moment of distraction, the suspect fired. I sensed that he would do just what he did, and I had fired my weapon almost simultaneously at the suspects gun hand, but the bullet from the big mans gun found its way to my partners abdomen. ORiley had not had a chance to fire his weapon. I went over to the suspect, who was on the ground holding his injured hand and moaning. I cuffed him just as my back up, Dets. Jensen and Poole arrived on the scene. I left the suspect in their custody and went over to check on my partner. He was still alive, but his breathing was very shallow. "Damnit, Jim, why didnt you let me back you up?" I asked through tear blurred eyes. He wasnt responding to me. I hollered to Jensen and Poole to call for an ambulance, and I heard Poole on his walkie-talkie radio in that there was an officer down, and a request for an ambulance. They transported ORiley to the hospital, but the doctor later told me that he died en route. There was really no hope, because he had sustained too much organ damage from the bullet.

I was exonerated for my actions that day, but the stigma of losing your partner stuck to me like the scarlet letter. The captain was having a hard time reassigning me to another detective. No one said it to my face, but I knew what was going around the precinct. It is one thing for a guy to lose their partner in the line of duty, it is another thing all together for a woman to lose one. Damn these macho cops. ORiley should not have gone in without me, and the captain said as much in his report, but when he called me into his office a week after the incident, I knew I wasnt going to be around to finish out the day.

"Look, Grieg, I know it wasnt your fault what happened to ORiley out there, but you know what is being said as much as the next person. I dont want to lose you, you are a damn good cop. But I had a talk with the commissioner and we both think it might be best for the precinct and for you if you were reassigned to another precinct."

I hit my palm on his desk and said, "Damn... Jim screws up and I am the one who takes the rap."

The captain, instead of blowing up at me, continued in a much softer voice, "Janice, look, I know you did what you were supposed to do. And I guess Jim paid with his life for his stupidity. I just think you would be better off leaving the bad feelings around here. You arent being demoted or anything. You will still be a full detective, and your pay will stay the same." He asked me to sit down and he took out a folder and opened it. "Actually, the assignment was made based on your work on the last case you and Jim were working on. Seems this little murder spree isnt confined to our little corner of the world. You will be sent to the 127th to check out a similar murder that happened two days ago."

I thought a minute. "Captain, isnt the one two seven up in Washington Heights?"

"Yes, you have a problem with that?"

"No," I lied. I had a BIG problem with that. I thought I had problems down here with prejudice, wait till I got into the land of the Latino lovers as Washington Heights was called. I didnt have anything against Hispanics, I want to make that clear right now. It is just that my blond haired, blue eyed, long legged look was a bit of a problem for them. I shuddered and thought about my need for action. I would certainly get some up there, but not the kind I was looking for.

"Good. You are to turn over your case files to Jensen and Poole and report to the captain of the one two seven this afternoon. Please take copies of the case work you have been doing just in case this is a related case. We will work with you if you need us."

"Thanks." I didnt stay to say anymore. I was just managing to maintain my cool in the face of this bad news and knew if I were to stay any longer, I might say something I would regret. I had a habit of doing that in the past.

I cleaned out my desk and locker and turned over the files to Poole. He didnt say much except a feeble "good luck". I took it as a sign that the captain was probably right and I would be better off not being reminded of my pariah status everyday at work. So that is how I wound up at the one two seven.

ii

I live on the east side, in a little brownstone apartment on the edge of Greenwich Village. It is a pretty nice neighborhood, as far as neighborhoods go in Manhattan. I usually took the bus to work, being that my former precinct wasnt that far from my home, but the 127th was a bit of a distance. I took most of my stuff home before I decided to report in for my new assignment. I debated on trying to find the bus connections to Washington Heights or just splurging on a taxi for the first day. The taxi won out, only because I didnt have a lot of time to be searching for the bus connections that day.

I arrived about 2 in the afternoon. The neighborhood where the precinct house was located was as run down as the one I left, but the difference was this area was still green with trees. I dont think there were any trees left in the Bowery.

I entered through the old wooden doors and went to the reception desk. The sergeant on duty directed me to the third floor to the detectives room. The elevator wasnt working that day, so I wound up climbing the stairs to the third floor. The city cutbacks were evident in this place. No one had money for the niceties of the job. This squad room looked very similar to ours, except we had air conditioning, they seem to have missed out on getting it. Large fans blew stale hot air around the room from their dust encrusted blades. I asked a detective sitting at a beat up desk near the door of the squad room where I could find the captains office. He was typing with one hand on his computer and eating a candy bar with the other. He never even looked up at me, but pointed in the general direction of a glass door on the far side of the room as he continued to type.

I approached the office door, noting the name painted on the door. It read "Captain Tyrone Jackson... Please Knock". I followed the directions and gently rapped on the glass. A "come in" answered my request. I slowly turned the knob and looked in as I opened the door. The office wasnt that much different from my old captains office. The one thing he had that the rest of his men didnt was a small window air conditioner grinding away the cooler air that filled his space.

"Come in, Detective Grieg. Please close the door. Gotta try to keep in the cool. Your boss told me you would be on your way." Jackson musta weighed 250 if he weighed an ounce. The office was an icebox compared to the squad room, but sweat still rolled from his dark brow. When he got up to move a mass of papers and books off of a chair sitting in the corner, I ascertained that he was about my height and probably in his fifties. His hair was in a short afro, graying around the edges as some African - American males do when they age. He pulled the now empty chair to the edge of his desk. After inviting me to sit in it, he rounded his desk and resumed his place in his overstuffed office chair. He pulled out a folder from a pile of paperwork on his desk and read a few minutes. I was not really comfortable in the silence that followed, but I used the time to take a closer look around the messy office. I could see that this guy wasnt as organized as my old boss. I wondered what he would be like to work for.

"Well, Ms. Grieg, you come highly recommended and you have an exemplary service record. Capt. Sam Harris speaks glowingly of you."

"Thanks," was all I could manage weakly.

Capt. Jackson put the folder down and looked me in the eye. I appreciate a person who can do that. "This is a real family here at the one two seven, but I will let you know, it is a rough place. We have a reputation for doing things on the edge if you know what I mean. We only have team players here." He got up and went to the only window. He looked out the window and continued. "Out there is a war zone. We need people who will be there when things go bad, and they do, all too often I am afraid."

"I understand," I answered him, suspecting where he was going with this line of thought.

"Look," he said turning back to me, "I know what Sam said about what happened the night your partner bit it, but I want to hear it from you, if you dont mind."

I sighed and related once again the events of the night my partner was killed. "My partner, James ORiley, and I were out on a routine follow-up to some research I had uncovered while working on our current case. We had a suspect under surveillance when we spotted some suspicious activity in the building we were staking out. My partner told me to stay put and not call for back up while he went to check it out. I knew that this was not only against regulations, but dangerous as well. When he left, I called for the required back up and then, with my service revolver drawn, I went in search of my partner. He had cornered the suspect on the roof, both had guns drawn on each other. I had my gun trained on the suspects gun hand waiting for my partner to secure the suspect, when the suspect fired on my partner. Jim had been momentarily distracted when I had come on the scene and the perp took advantage of this to fire on him. I instinctively sensed that he would do this and almost simultaneously fired on the suspect. My bullet incapacitated the suspect and I had him in cuffs when the two detectives who arrived as back up took charge of him. I then went to my partner to check on him. He was alive, but not breathing right. An ambulance was called, but he died on his way to the hospital. The doctor said there would have been nothing anyone could have done for him, the damage the bullet inflicted was too severe."

"You think things would have happened differently if you and your partner had followed correct procedure?"

"I cant say for sure, but it is my belief there would have been a better chance that Jim ORiley would be alive today if we had done things by the book, sir."

The captain came over to me and stuck his hand out to me. "Welcome to the 127th, Detective Janice Grieg." He shook my hand and then went back to his desk chair and sat down. "I think you will make a fine addition to this motley crew. I have a special assignment for you. Sam told me that you were informed about our latest murder, a little black boy who was killed and mutilated two days ago. I am assigning you to the other detective on the case. Muff Kovacks partner was just put on administrative leave due to some medical problems, so he is in need of a partner anyway. Come with me and I will introduce you."

Capt. Jackson got up once again and I rose from my seat. I was led back out into the oven that was the squad room to another dingy corner by the bathrooms. There were two beat up desks facing each other, but only one was occupied. The occupant was a long haired Hispanic looking guy, maybe 63"-64". He was rather good looking, but something about him reminded me of the hard look people sometimes get from being out on the street too long. He, like the detective I asked directions from when I entered the room, was working on a report on his computer. Unlike his colleague, he was typing with two hands and with more competency than the other guy. I could tell right away he was computer savvy. That would be a refreshing change from ORiley.

"Muff," the captain yelled at the man at the desk. Muff looked up. The captain continued, "Janice Grieg, this is our resident tech head, Muff Kovack. Muff, this is Det. Janice Grieg, from the three four. She has been permanently reassigned to our little zoo. I am putting her with you. I think you two will make a great team."

Muff looked hard at me and mumbled, "Oh great, a blond dame." Aloud he said, "Well, Det. Grieg, here is your desk, make yourself at home. My former partner left you all the files on his computer for you to peruse through, but good luck making sense of them. He didnt know much about using it."

I shook my head and looked at the captain, who was retreating back into his air conditioned office. "Look, can we start on a good foot here, Det. Kovack? I have been on the NYPD for about 2 years and before that I was an MP in the army. I have a good service record and I think I would make a hell of a partner for anyone who could look past my sex and see what a good cop I am."

"Look," Muff said, "Im sorry. I guess I overreacted. It is just that, in the two years I have been in this hell hole, I have had a string of loser partners. Seems no one trusts me with anyone with a brain since I am an ex con."

"I gotcha, I guess I can relate. You are judged before you are tested. I have gotten that a lot myself. I can assure you, I have a brain.... and I am very capable of using it." I sat down at the empty desk facing Muffs desk and put my few belongings away. "What are you working on at the moment. My old boss and the captain here tell me there was a gruesome murder of an African American boy a few days ago."

Muff looked up from his report. He pointed to the laptop computer sitting on my desk. "You know how to use one of these?"

"Sure, why?"

"Well that is a good start at least." He made a few more strokes on his keyboard and then took the mouse and clicked it a few times. He then took a disk out of his laptop and handed it to me. "Here is a copy of the file on the case as we know it. My former partners files are probably not worth reading. I would start with this and then create your own files on it. I will warn you, it is not for the squeamish."

Like I said from the outset, I am not a squeamish person. I took a few minutes to read the report that Muff had prepared so far. The scenario sounded sooo familiar. A 13 year old black male was found in an alley, his throat had been slit with a large knife, his body had been mutilated, and his genitals were missing. No matter how many times I saw this or read it, it did make my stomach turn. Who would be so sick as to do this to kids. I guess I must have looked a little green, cause Muff asked me if I needed a drink of water.

"Yeah, and maybe something stronger when we are off duty."

"I told you it was not for the squeamish", he said as he got up and went to the machine nearby to get me a bottle of water.

"Yeah, well I have a strong constitution, but I would have to be dead or as sadistic as the killer not to be affected by this. Your theory is that this is drug/gang related. Are the gangs this vicious up here?" I thanked him for the water, opened it and took a big swig.

"They can be, but for the life of me, I cant think of any other motive for this brutality. Usually they arent into this kind of mutilation. Were also considering a psycho."

I nodded. "Sounds like all the things we were considering in our cases."

Muff looked at me hard. "You have seen this kind of thing before?", he asked incredulously.

"Sorry to say, yes I have. My former partner and I were working on a series of similar murder/mutilations when he died. I was researching another motive with another set of suspects."

"Well dont hold back. Im all ears."

Just then the captain poked his head out of his office door and said, "Kovack and Grieg, you have a call. 145th and Lex. Looks like another one of those mutilation murders."

Muff went over to grab the piece of paper with the information on it from the captain and he led me out of the office and down to the street. He pointed to a beat up Chevy Impala parked on the street in front of the precinct. " I know it doesnt look like much, but it has it where it needs it. Get in."

"Whatever you say." I didnt have time to argue with him. He got behind the wheel and started the engine. Where the car was beat up, the engine sounded smooth and quiet. I smiled as he pulled out into traffic."

"I dont know what you were used to in the 34, but money is tight up here. This baby gets me where I need to be, so I guess I cant complain."

"Well ours arent much better. It sounds smooth at least."

"Yup, this engine purrs like a kitten thanks to me. I dont let the department touch her. I do all the work myself."

I was impressed. "You sure are a man of talent then. Where did you learn how to work on engines?"

"Joliet."

"Oh," I felt like I had stepped in dog dirt. He had told me he was an ex con. I know the department had employed some, something to do with knowing the criminal mind and all, but I also knew that those who had been in prison didnt like to be reminded of it. He didnt elaborate and I didnt press it.

iii

We drove in silence for a few minutes so Muff could concentrate on the traffic. Winding our way down Broadway to 145th street and then turning east to get across to Lexington Ave., I wondered if this area was still covered by the 127th precinct. It was then that I experienced the first incident of Muffs uncanny ability to sense what I was thinking. "This isnt really our territory, but the precincts up in the northern parts of Manhattan are stretched to the limit right now with manpower, so if the precinct covering an area cant handle the case, they ask for assistance. Besides, not all of the precincts in this area have detective squads. It turns out this one doesnt. So we get called in on a lot of homicides in this area."

After about 20 minutes in traffic, we finally arrived at the alley where another black youth had been found by a restaurant owner putting out his trash. The place was swarming with curious onlookers, most of whom were black. We had to cut our way through a sea of inquisitive black faces to get to the crime scene. I felt a little nervous, being one of the only Caucasians at the scene. But Muffs arm around mine, leading me through the crowd with the help of a black uniformed officer, helped to easy my apprehensions of the moment. After all, I was here to do a job.

We finally got to the crime scene and I bent down to get a good look at the vic. This one looked to be about 16. He had a gang jacket on, but it had been cut to ribbons. The boys throat had been slit deep and again there were mutilation marks on the body. I didnt have the nerve to check to see if anything was missing, so Muff did it. The genitals were gone. "Damn," Muff exclaimed under his breath. "If I ever get my hands on the sick bastard that's doing this....."

I pulled Muff away from the body and directed the coroner to tend to the body. Some uniforms were looking over the site for clues. I said, "Look, Muff, I would love to string this guy up too, but we have an investigation to do.... lets do it and get out of here. I want to show you something back at the station."

"Youre right. When kids are involved, I lose it. You were about to tell me about the research you did on your cases back at the three four," answered Muff.

I was glad he didnt blow up at me. "Yeah, but it can wait. Lets process this place first."

We went around looking for clues and questioning the crowd milling around. The uniforms took pictures of the body and the crime scene. One of the cops found a wallet in the pocket of the remains of the jacket. Jesse Morgan was the name on the student ID found in the wallet. There was also about ten bucks in small bills. So robbery was ruled out. I dreaded having to call in the kids family to identify the body. Fortunately, the killer wasnt interested in messing up the faces of his vics. I remember the other identifications I had witnessed. It was never easy watching family members identify their loved ones, no matter how good a shape they were in. Dead is dead, and death is always hard to swallow, especially when murder is involved. Muff must have been reading my mind again, cause he said, "Well, at least his folks wont have to look at the rest of him to identify him..... damn." He went over to the car and slammed his fist on the roof.

"Look, this isnt easy for any of us." I went over to the uniform in charge and asked him to finish up gathering evidence for our investigation. Then I went back to the car and looked at my watch. "Looks like our shift is about over.... lets get some coffee and compare notes. I think we might be dealing with the same thing up here that we did at the three four."

Muff looked at me and nodded. Silently, we got in the car and he started to drive. After a few more moments of silence, he said, "You mind if we get the coffee to go and go somewhere else to talk about this. I have to clear my mind, and I have a special place I go that helps me to do that."

"Sure, whatever," was all I could say. I could understand wanting to get away from the horror we had just witnessed. I might be callused to some of it cause my job requires me to be that way, but no one can be truly callused to it all.

We went to a little coffee place on 145th and got our java fix and then headed up Broadway, past the Washington Heights neighborhood location of our precinct. I thought Muff might be heading back to the station first, but he turned on to Washington Avenue and headed toward Inwood. I then realized where we were going.

iv

In all of Manhattan, the Inwood area looked less like Manhattan and more like the upwardly mobile suburbs of say, Long Island or White Plains. Fort Tyrone Park, located on the northern tip of Manhattan on land donated by John D. Rockefeller Jr. in the late 1920s, still retains much of the natural beauty that was Manhattan Island before the twentieth century paved it over. Where places like Central Park and the other smaller parks of Manhattan were planned, Fort Tyrone Park reflects natures planning. The Cloisters, located in the park, is a collection of medieval styled buildings, most of which were abandoned pieces of Gothic architecture from French villages brought to the city by the sculptor George Grey Barnard. The collection of mainly Romanesque and Gothic styles of medieval art, architecture and decoration was purchased by Rockefeller and then donated to the Metropolitan Museum of Art along with the land. Because the Cloisters and the rest of Ft. Tyrone Park is a peaceful place, visitors speak in quiet whispers while walking the courts and surrounding paths along the Hudson River. It is the getaway for many Manhattanites who dont want to go far to get some peace. I could see why Muff liked coming here to think. It sure was a change of pace from the neighborhoods that bordered this oasis of sanity and nature.

Muff found a parking place in an overflow parking area away from the main section of the buildings. I could see that he wasnt interested in the art of the area, but the nature. I grabbed my coffee from the cup holder in the car and followed Muffs long stride as best I could. Being tall, I was able to keep up with most men, but Muff had a good six inches on my height and stride. I couldnt help but notice, as I tried to close the gap between us, the distinctive strut in his gait. His posterior was well proportioned and swayed with rhythm when he walked. I surmised from the pace he was setting, the determination as well as the rhythm in his tread, that he was using exercise as well as the peacefulness of the surroundings to help him clear his mind of the recent events.

From this conclusion, I decided not to waste my energy calling for him to slow down, but put all my efforts into trying to keep up. I was just getting use to the pace when he surprised me by stopping abruptly, so much so that I almost ran into him. I found we had stopped by a railing on a path that overlooked the Hudson River. Looking south, I could see the outline of the George Washington Bridge and across the river lay Englewood, New Jersey, another bedroom community of Manhattan. Directly below us was the Henry Hudson Parkway and the Amtrak train tracks that ran along side the river. Except for the drone of the traffic from those two major thoroughfares, the air was relatively silent. I guess I was looking around at all the scenery because Muff remained in his brown study and I didnt know what, if anything, to say at that moment. In my mind I compared the serenity of the Park to the chaos of the overcrowded neighborhoods that made up most of the rest of Manhattan. Beauty and space were at a premium in Manhattan, and I was glad Muff had brought me here to get away from the rest of humanity for a while. I also used the interlude of silence to catch my breath. The scenery might be different from the rest of Manhattan, but the air was just as hot and humid as the rest of the city, even though there was a bit of a cool breeze coming off the river. I welcomed it to dry the sweat forming on my face and body as I stared across the river, waiting for Muff to speak.

He finally broke the silence that was becoming as thick as the humidity in the air. "Thanks for not saying anything. I know I'm not an easy person to get along with. I keep to myself most of the time. That trait has been hard on some of my past partners. I guess it partly comes from my past life. When you are planning a crime you learn not to share too much of yourself so you dont blow your operation."

"Well you get like that being a cop too, I suppose. Especially when you work undercover."

Muff looked at me with a surprised frown, "How did you know I did undercover work before I was assigned to homicide?"

I was now the one to show surprise, "I didnt, I was just speaking in generalities. I have always been in homicide since becoming a detective. What unit were you in before homicide?"

"Well it was a special unit working with white collar crimes mostly. I dont think we really had a name for it. They thought, since I had experience on the other side of the fence in that area, I might be good at infiltration.... but it didnt work out, so I asked to be transferred to homicide in my old neighborhood." He looked out over the river as he spoke, avoiding eye contact.

I was beginning to realize that he didnt feel comfortable about talking about himself. But he had piqued my curiosity about my new partner, and I guess I was just as anxious to put the present case behind me for a little while longer as he seemed to be. I thought, what better way to do that than by finding out more about the person with whom I would be spending most of my time.

"So you are originally from New York? I thought you might be from the Midwest, since...." I left the rest unsaid, not knowing how to again remind him of his incarceration.

"Nope, born and raised right here in Washington Heights. After graduating from Columbia, I went to work for the Chicago transit authority, the only job I could get. It was there that I learned I could make more money making illegal bugs for the bad guys, but they double crossed me and I wound up in stir for three years. I tried to get back at my old bosses at the transit authority for blowing the whistle on me, but it didnt pan out. I was just glad I didnt get caught. I decided to go straight and I went into the used car business. I wasn't too happy there and I tried opening my own electronics shop. But after a while, that didnt work either. That's when I decided to come home to New York. I really didnt know what I was going to do till an old friend told me I should join the NYPD. Hes a lieutenant and was able to put in a good word for me at the Academy." He finally turned and faced me at this point in his narrative, his face lined with the pain of the telling. "Now you know the full Muff Kovack story. Satisfied?"

"Hey, Im sorry if it sounded like I was prying. I am sure that isnt the full story, but its more than enough." For now, was what I added in my thoughts. "I guess I get a little nosy, another occupational hazard of being a cop."

Muff, for the first time since I met him, smiled. His smile wasnt a half hearted grin, but a full blown spread of the lips so his perfectly aligned white teeth showed through. I thought I even detected a bit of a laugh behind it. "Hell, Grieg, dont worry about my foul mood. My bark is worse than my bite. I guess I dont know how to lighten up very well."

I relaxed a little bit. "Its ok, this job tends to make most of us too serious most of the time. Not much to be light about in police work."

"Truth, but I guess I dont have to bite off my partners heads. I guess its one of the reasons I havent gotten on too well with my past partners....."

"Forget it." I took sips of my now cooling coffee and then said, "If it would help any, you have my permission to ask me anything you want about me. After all, we should get to know a little about each other if we are going to spend so much time working together."

"Well, I guess it is a cliché, but what is a nice looking gal like you doing in a crappy job like police work, especially in a place like this?"

Fair question, I thought as I smiled at the obvious question. I had been asked it many times before, my parents being the first. "I dunno, crazy in the head I guess...." We both chuckled. I continued, "But seriously, I have never been one to settle for quiet domesticity. I like action, and being former military, I couldnt see myself settling for a boring desk job somewhere, or even worse, a housewife for some executive type." I shuddered at the path some of my high school friends had taken in that very direction. It wasnt for me and I knew it.

"But, now you have to forgive me for being nosy, why police work? I mean, it is, by its nature, rather gruesome," Muff asked.

"Well, gruesome doesnt seem to bother me too much, when it is all in the line of duty that is. I guess I had too healthy a dose of super hero tales growing up, you know, where the good guys fight for truth, justice, and the American way....." There were other reasons, too personal to mention at this point in our relationship. I decided this would have to do for an explanation for the time being. I had sensed that Muff had not really given me all the details of his past either, so I felt we were on even ground with the depth of our revelations. Muff seemed to get the hint and didnt ask me anymore questions.

I drained the last of my coffee and said, "I think we need to get back to the business at hand, even though the peacefulness of this place teases me with its siren call to forget it. I can see why you like coming here."

"Well it isnt really to escape the cases I am working on, I just find I can think about them with a clearer mind here where my senses arent being bombarded with the misery around me." Muff bent down and picked up a stone and tossed it over the railing. I was a bit alarmed, thinking how dangerous it was to do that with the traffic below us. But to my surprise, the tiny missile cleared not only the highway but the railroad tracks beyond. It landed with a faint splash only inches from the shore in the waters of the river. I was impressed with the power behind his pitching arm. "You missed your calling... you should have been a pitcher for the Yankees."

"Nah, that would have been too easy." He smiled again. "I just do that when I have to leave here. It is my way of assuring myself I will get to the bottom of the case I'm on. I used to come up here as a kid and pitch stones off of these cliffs when I had problems at home I was dealing with. I used to hit the railroad tracks a lot, but after a while, my distance improved and I was able to make one hit the river..... since then I have rarely missed it." Muff started to walk away from the railing and the river and head back in the direction of the car. As before, I had a hard time keeping up with that determined stride of his. He smiled back at me when he got to the car ahead of me. "You are out of shape, Grieg. Musta been that cushy job at the three four. You will have to work out to keep up with me." I glared at him as we both got in the car. I decided I wouldnt dignify his remark with one of my own.

He deftly swung the Impala into the traffic on Washington Avenue and headed south in the direction of the precinct. "I want to get our laptops so we can work on this case. You still have that research you wanted to show me. I know of a cyber cafe close to Columbia University where we can go and get on line and talk about it in peace."

"Oh," was all I could think to answer him. We drove in silence again. I looked blankly out the window at the tenements of the Washington Heights area as we turned back onto Broadway. I suddenly had a thought. "Forgive me for being nosy again, but how did you get the name Muff?" Kovack didnt exactly sound Hispanic either, and he certainly looked like he fit in this predominantly Hispanic section of New York City. But I thought it might be less intrusive to ask about his unusual nickname... at least I presumed it was a nickname.

"Well my real name is Esteban Fredrick Kovack y Ramirez. My dad was Hungarian and my mom Puerto Rican. He wanted to name me Stephen Fredrick, but my mom insisted that one of my given names be Hispanic, so they used the Spanish version of Stephen, Esteban. He was big into the medieval history of his home country, and Stephen and Fredrick were well known names of kings from that period. Stephen means crown and Fredrick means peaceful ruler. My dad was into all that chivalry stuff." Muff shook his head.

I now knew about his nationality, something I thought he would be more uncomfortable talking about, but he didnt really answer my main question. I wondered if I should try and ask him again. I guess my unconscious curiosity won out, cause I heard myself form the words of my inquiry again, much to my surprise. "But why Muff?"

We had come to a stoplight and as the car idled, he turned to me, as if searching my face for something, I wasnt sure what. Trying to put on my most innocent countenance, he then looked away and said, "Its a name my late mother gave me."

"Oh," I said, with obvious regret in my voice. I couldnt help it. He sounded so sad and so vulnerable when he made that simple statement. I felt like a heel.

The light turned green and we started on our way once again. With more strength in his voice, like he had gathered all his emotions and put them in check, he continued, even tho I was willing to drop it. "When I was little, I had such chubby cheeks, you know, the kind all the matronly aunts love to pinch. My mother always thought my given name was too much of a mouth full for a little guy, so she called me Moflete--- Spanish for chubby cheek. When I got older, it was shortened to Mof, but most of my friends, not knowing why my mom called me Mof because I had grown much leaner when I reached puberty, thought she was saying Muff, and just got to calling me that."

"Oh," I said. Then, wondering if I had overstepped a boundary I added, "Im sorry, I didnt mean to intrude."

"No, its ok, just dont repeat it, will you? I havent told anyone that in years. I doubt many people know the reason behind my name and I would like to keep it that way. I dunno why I keep it, but I guess it is in memory of her....." His voice trailed off and then, after drawing in a breath, he added, "And before you ask, my parents were killed by a drunk driver years ago, while I was in Joliet...." His voice trailed off for a second time. But there was no more additions to his revelations. I suspected he harbored a lot of guilt for being locked up in his parents hour of need. I decided I found out more than I needed to know about my new partner for one day. No sense alienating him with more questions.

v

Back at the precinct we signed out for the day, something we hadnt gotten around to even though by this time we had been off duty for a couple of hours. Grabbing the laptops and our personal gear, Muff asked me if I would like to grab a bite to eat before we headed to the cyber cafe. I was game, having nothing to go home for. I was not a person who enjoyed cooking for myself alone, although if I had someone to cook for, I was a pretty good cook.

Muff took me to an ethnic restaurant not to far from work. He told me that he ate there quite a bit. The owners had been friends of his mother and had gotten many recipes off of her. He told me it was like coming home to eat when he ate there. The menu consisted of mainly Puerto Rican dishes.

The waitress came over and Muff asked me if he could order something for me. I guessed he wanted me to try the foods made from his mothers recipes, and since I wouldnt have a clue as to which ones they would be, I allowed myself to be in for some surprises for once. He ordered a delicious sounding turkey and rice concoction and some side dishes. We both opted for iced tea to drink. I figured that after talking about the case, we might both need something stronger later. I was willing to wait, wanting to keep my head clear for the business at hand .

"I hope you will enjoy my moms food. I only wish she could have been here to cook it for you. She was a great cook," Muff said as he took a sip of his iced tea.

"I am sure I will love it. You must have been very close to your parents."

Muff smiled. "Mom mostly, dad was a bit of a kook, but lovable I guess. I never really understood him, or how he met and married my mom, but my mom assured me it was love and she still loved him. Mom was the best, but I guess I am a bit prejudiced in that area. I was her only child and she doted on me."

"I understand that, my mom still dotes on me. I have a brother, but he is much older than I am. When my mom and dad had me, it was a big surprise to them. My dad died a few years ago from cancer, but my mom still lives in the same Long Island home where I grew up. Tad, my brother, is married and a lawyer out in California. I dont see him much. My mom, on the other hand, seems to think I need someone to watch over me, that is why she calls me almost every night. To her, I am still her little girl, even though I am 35."

"Gee, I wouldnt have guessed you were that old," Muff said with a grin.

"Yup, six years in the Army after High School and then a few years doing odd jobs before I decided I wanted to be a cop. Thanks for thinking I looked younger. You are just a young thing yourself."

"ME!" Muff choked on his tea and then let out a sonorous laugh that turned most of the heads of the other patrons of the restaurant. "Honey, how old do you think I am?"

"Well after that outburst, I guess maybe older than I thought, I dunno, I am not good at guessing ages, but maybe 38...."

Muff grabbed my hands and put them to his lips. "Janice, you have just become my new best friend, I love you. I hate to burst your bubble, but I am 49."

"NO!!!!" I exclaimed pulling my hands from his lips rather abruptly, I am afraid, cause he sheepishly put his hands under the table. Now it was my turn to get the restaurant patrons attention. "You are pulling my leg."

"As appealing as that proposal sounds, I cannot tell a lie."

I must have blushed at his suggestive retort, but his sincerity moved me. He sure had aged well. His dark, thick hair didnt have a gray strand in it. He kept it a bit on the longer side, which made me think he might not be lying about his age, the cut harkened back to an earlier time. Even his face didnt show many lines of age, the only lines that seem to be there were the ones that appeared when he laughed. Maybe his thick eyebrows and mustache hid those telling signs of age.

Muff sensed my embarrassment and quickly changed the subject as the food arrived at our table. "This neighborhood wasnt always this rundown, but it was never a real garden spot either. Bordering on Harlem, we had our share of ethnic gang wars back in the day. I am just glad they didnt decide to knock down all the trees. I guess the Puerto Ricans in the neighborhood insisted on keeping some of the greenery to remind them of home. It is one of the few ethnic neighborhoods that have so much of it. Someone once said that Washington Heights was like a slum with trees. I guess that is a pretty good description of it."

"Well it is a nicer place than where I came from. The Bowery is nothing but concrete and steel. I guess since it borders on the Wall Street area, the power brokers of the city decided it needed buildings more than trees. Dont get me wrong, the little ethnic areas of the Bowery are interesting, but I think I will like working where there are more trees and more oxygen getting to the brain so I can think better."

Muff smiled and took a bite of his food. I followed suit, allowing the aroma to invade my olfactory glands as I chewed. The smell and taste was wonderful, spiced mildly, to allow a person to taste the food. I told him that I approved of his choice with a, "MMMMMM". Muff looked pleased that I was enjoying his mothers recipe.

As we ate, I was picking up vibes from Muff that, even though we were both interested in putting our heads together about this case, we were also interested in delaying that task long enough to get to know one another a little more. I dunno if it was the good food or the relaxed atmosphere of the restaurant, who served their food family style, but it appeared that Muff was starting to warm up to my presence. He seemed to enjoy telling me stories of growing up in the area and I was more than willing to let him talk. After about an hour of reminiscing about our childhood, we paid for our meals on separate checks --- at my insistence, and we headed south on Broadway to Columbia University.

The ride down there became a study in silence once again, as if being forced to think about the brutality of our vics kept us from the lighthearted banter that took place at dinner. I could tell, that even though we were technically off duty, we were back on the job. Muff seemed to have a distinct demarcation line when it came to work and leisure time conversation. When he did speak, he was all serious and all business.

"I think the first thing we should do when we get there is to get online. I would like you to show me what you found in your research. Then we need to compare notes as to the particulars of the evidence in each of the cases from the three four and the two up here."

"That sounds like a logical start." I pulled out a disk from my purse and showed it to Muff. "This has all the data I scanned from the files on the six similar cases down in the Bowery. I also am waiting for the report from the two detectives reassigned to the case when I left concerning the interview of the suspect we collared, the one that shot my partner." My voice trailed off unexpectedly when I mentioned O Riley. I guess his death got to me more than I realized. I just hadnt let myself feel anything about it till now.

"Hey, I understand," Muff responded. "I had a partner killed in a shoot out on a drug bust once. There wasnt anything I could do at the time, but it still gets to you."

Ignoring the similarities of our careers, I seem to cue in on the words drug bust. "Were you in narcotics too?"

"Not really, it was when I was still a uniform.... you know, we always got the shit jobs. It was after my partner died that I took my detectives test. I wanted out of the line of fire. I foolishly thought that the uniform was the target, but I have found out that no matter what you do in the NYPD, you are always a target."

"Jim found that out the hard way, Im afraid." I went silent once again, wondering what to say next. I was spared the effort when we arrived at our destination. Muff swung the car into the student lot on the edge of the campus. Being a cop sometimes has its perks, parking where you wanted to without a permit being one of them. After putting the car in park, Muff took out a rearview mirror tag identifying the car as having legal permission to park in the spot.

We walked across Broadway to a little cafe. It was a bit crowded, but Muff flashed his badge and a student acting as a host showed us to a booth with a privacy screen. I was impressed. Muff could see the surprise on my face and commented, "I come in here a lot, so they have this space reserved for me. I find being down here at Columbia far superior to trying to research in the squad room. Too many interruptions."

"Very true, especially in a precinct where not many use the Internet for research. I was kind of an oddball at the three four, in more ways than my gender," I said. "A lot of the cops there were older and didnt know much about Internet research. Not that you and I are really that young, but...," I stopped, more out of embarassment than anything else.

Ignoring the remark about our ages he replied, "Well that happens a lot in the older neighborhoods. I guess the precincts where the computer savvy end up deal with more white collar crime and such. Not many of the younger cops want to deal with gangs, drugs and homicides."

"I guess. I never really thought about it, but I could see that." We plugged in our laptops and logged on. I went to the first site I had book marked, one with the dubious title of People for a Free America.

I pushed my laptop toward Muff and let him read what was on the site for a while. It had been a long day and I decided to take advantage of the time by closing my eyes and sitting back to catch a small nap. The booth had very comfortable computer chairs with high backs, to my surprise. Catching five or ten minutes of sleep was something I had trained myself to do when I was in the Army on nightly guard duty. I could sleep and still be alert to anything that might need my attention. I always thought it was one of the side benefits I got from the Army. It sure had helped on long stakeouts, especially if I could persuade my partner to take turns doing it with me.

Muff must be a fast reader, only fifteen or twenty minutes had passed when he gently brought me out of my light sleep. "Catchin a few Zzzs isnt a bad idea, from what I see here, we might be at this a while. This group is unbelievable."

"Oh I know. I knew the KKK and the Neo- Nazi groups were against everyone who wasnt white or Aryan, but some of the solutions this group proposes are down right medieval."

Muff read from the screen--- "We of the People for a Free America are calling on all true citizens of this country to take up the cause and rid our land of those who are unfit to share the same space as those chosen of God. They should not be allowed to contribute to our superior gene pool any longer, polluting it with their inferior genetic material.----- Geez, Janice, this group sounds more paranoid than most."

"Yes, and even though they dont come right out and call for ethnic cleansing, the link to an email address for those who want to join in whatever fight they are eluding to here makes me think that they might encourage it, and, just maybe, some crackpot might be taking this to the next step and committing these crimes." I had told this to Jim and my captain. Jim thought I was nuts, but the captain was convinced enough for us to check it out. With this past history, I did wonder what Muff might think of my theory.

He did seem a bit skeptical. "What evidence from the crimes makes you think that?"

"Well, I guess the only thing that really made me wonder was the fact that all the vics were young males of non Aryan backgrounds ---- that and the fact ---- ahem ----" For some reason, I had a hard time speaking the next part. I usually wasnt afraid of any line of conversation, but being a woman, I supposed it might be embarrassing for a man to hear a woman talk about their most private parts in this manner.

"You mean the castrations," Muff volunteered, helping me out of my dilemma. "Dont be prissy on my account."

"Sorry, and I wasnt being prissy, just trying to be sensitive. I guess that little fact doesnt bother you though."

"That the vics were castrated?" Muff asked in a whisper, trying not to draw attention to our booth. I nodded my head. "Well it doesnt make me feel comfortable, if that is what you mean, but I never thought that...." he didnt finish the sentence and I gave him a puzzled look. He saw my face and said, "Forget it. You think that fact might play into this?"

"Well it might go into the psychology of the motive behind the attacks..... ethnic cleansing and all. Some nut seeing the phrase "inferior genetic material" might think they needed to get rid of the source of that, as if death wasnt enough." I shuddered, as I finally voiced my inner thoughts about that for the first time. "I have seen some sick stuff in my two years on the force, but this is the sickest."

Muff just pondered what I had told him. "You might have something there." We got quiet again, I was taking the time to think happily on the fact that someone else was taking my theories seriously, and I supposed Muff was trying to logically put more of the pieces of the cases together in light of this new theory.

"You told me that you had a suspect in mind after this research, the man who ... ah ... shot your partner..." Muff still felt I might be sensitive to that topic, so I jumped in confidently, ignoring the discomfort in his question. "Yes." I took the laptop back and started clicking through some links. "This site keeps a list of its members, although you really have to know how to look to find them. One of them was located in the general area of our precinct, so I thought that might be a good place to start. I really didnt know if he would be our perp, but you have to explore all possibilities." I turned the laptop back around so Muff could read the screen I had displayed. It was a list of names and general locations of hundreds of members. I had scrolled down to the one that we been staking out, remembering back to the hours I spent scrolling down the list of names to find it. I was still floored as to how many people bought into the crap this group was dishing out. Just goes to prove what a few nuts with the power of the Internet can accomplish.

Muff must have scrolled up and down the list, cause he whistled and said, "Wow, look at all these names....."

"Yes, disturbing, isnt it?"

"That is an understatement..... at least you are safe from them. It makes me want to go back to Puerto Rico and hide. These people are nuts!"

I understood the reason for his comment, being his ethnic background was a perfect target for this kind of hate. "I am still a little confused by the fact that this perp is only targeting young males tho.... you would think that any non Aryan would be a target."

"Well I might have a theory as to that.... it goes to the male psyche.... I mean, males usually dont feel threatened by females, but there is something about the virility of young males that set some guys off. Think of those who prey on young males as sexual targets.... I think it is the same sort of idea, but with a different motive."

I pondered that. "I guess I see your point. I just had another thought too. I know that in many cultures, the future of the race is seen as resting with the male line... at least that is the case in many western cultures."

Muff added, "Yes, it is a biblical idea as well, and these people sure are Christian in their ideology."

I cringed. "Well maybe, but this group sure isnt orthodox in their brand of Christianity. All Christian teaching I have ever heard tells you to love your fellow human beings, even your enemies."

"Truth, but nuts usually arent interested in orthodoxy. At least this seems to fit facts in these cases. This is a great piece of detective work, Janice."

"Thanks," I said, blushing but feeling really good about having a partner who recognized the hard work I had put in. "The guy we were staking out seems to have spotted us when O Riley made his move. Jim didnt say much to me as he dashed out of the car to check on him, but I did see the suspect look through some curtains and then directly at our car before he pulled his head in rather abruptly. I guess Jims gut told him the guy was on to us and was going to make a break for it. Makes you think he might have been guilty of something." I shuddered as I thought back to that night once again. Then thinking about the fact that the guy was in custody I added, "At least we got him. I will phone Larry or Mike in the morning and see what the bastard had to say."

"Larry and Mike?" Muff asked.

"Sorry, I meant, Dets. Jensen and Poole. They worked with Jim and me on the cases and now they have exclusive rights to them. Cause Mike did tell me when I was scanning the files to take with me to get in contact with them if I had any ideas that would help. I think the captain told him there was at least one case up here that had some of the same pattern to it as ours."

"Well it will be interesting to hear what this guy," Muff paused and looked at the computer screen, "Albert Beckman, has to say for himself."

"Yup." I rubbed my eyes. It had been a long day and I was starting to tire. "Lets get to the evidence so we can compare notes on the crime scenes."

"It can wait." Muff must have sensed my need for rest. Looking at his watch he added, "It is getting late. We both need to stay fresh and focused on this. Let me get you home and we will start again in the morning."

Seeing that it was almost midnight, I said, "Well I normally take a bus home, but since it might be prudent not to at this hour, I will accept a ride home, but just this once. I dont need you to be my chauffeur."

Muff looked hurt. "I didnt mean..... oh, never mind." He got up and unplugged his laptop. "Look, I dont mind giving you a ride. I know you dont want to feel you are imposing, but you arent. I like to drive and a jaunt down to Greenwich Village isnt an imposition."

I looked at him with obvious shock registered on my face. He said, "Yes, well I knew you were going to be my partner before you arrived this afternoon and me being the nosy person I am, looked up some basics on you, like you address. It is in your personnel file, you know."

"Oh, yeah, I guess....." I was really at a loss for words. No one from the three four had paid that much attention to my personal life, least of all Jim. Muffs interest took me by surprise. Thinking back on it later that night as I was falling asleep, other little things took me by surprise as well. The most glaring of these was the fact that we fell into calling each other by our first names, something I didnt do at the three four. Cause when I thought about that, I was the one who started it, preferring Muff to Kovack. So I guess I shouldnt have been too surprised when he called me Janice instead of Grieg. At least he used the more formal version of my name.

Muff dropped me off at my brownstone, and I said a simple good bye and see you tomorrow as I opened the door and climbed out of the car. I intentionally hurried up the steps quickly, hoping to give Muff the impression I wasnt too keen on have him ask if I needed an escort to my apartment door. I guess it didnt bother him, cause he never mentioned it the next day.

I was on my second cup of coffee, looking over the bus schedules for a possible route up to the one two seven when I heard someone honking their horn outside my building. I didnt think too much of it, it was the city after all, horns blow and sirens sound at all hours of the day and night. I am almost deaf to them anymore, you almost have to be in order to get any sleep. So I didnt get up right away.

The horn blew again, with more urgency and length. I think the cop in me kicked in, cause I got up to see who was making a public nuisance of themselves at 6 o clock in the morning so I could go down and arrest them. When I parted the curtains of my living room window, I was surprised and a little dismayed to see Muffs Chevy Impala parked in front of my building. His windows were open, so I yelled down to him, "Quit blowing that damn horn, you want the neighbors to call the cops on you?"

He leaned over to the passenger window and looked up at my fourth floor window. "Buenos días, mi socia. I hope you slept well," Muff answered, in a much sweeter voice than I had used with him.

"Yes, but why are you here?"

"Hey, I was in the neighborhood and ---" Before I could let him finish the trite cliché, I said, "Never mind, Ill be right down." I could see the neighbors starting to look out their windows at the exchange, and, being a nosy lot, I didnt want my business gossiped about all over the place.

I quickly gathered my things and headed down the four flights of stairs to the street. There was a working elevator in the building, but I remembered the little jaunt in the park yesterday and decided that taking the stairs would be a good way to stay in shape so I could keep up with Muff. I wasnt exactly out of shape, but I guess my pride was wounded by his off handed joke at my expense yesterday.

When I got to the car, I opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. "I told you I didnt need a chauffeur. I am perfectly capable of catching the bus to the precinct every day." I saw him starting to respond, and I cut him off. "And dont try that lame line about being in the neighborhood, I know you must live up in the Washington Heights area, which is well out of the way."

"How do you know WHERE I live?" he answered smugly, knowing I had not had any time to check up on him like he obviously did with me. I had thought about it last night when I came home, but being way too tired for any more investigations that day, I headed straight for bed. Again his uncanny way of knowing what I did or what I was thinking was working that morning. I knew he knew this to be a fact.

"I-- I guess I dont know where you live, but assuming you grew up in that neighborhood and work there now---" I was digging myself a deep hole.

"Doncha know that assuming things is the first thing they teach you NOT to do in police work." He put the car in gear and said, "Last night I thought I got a partner with brains for once, but now---" His tone was deadpan serious, but a little upturn of the corners of his mouth betrayed the fact that he was kidding with me. I didnt know whether or not to hit him on the arm for that, but seeing that he was now in traffic, I decided to let that remark go, as I did the one in the park. I would have to think of a good way to get back at his wisecracks, but I knew that wouldnt be easy. One thing was certain in my mind, I would have to take the time at my earliest convenience to check my partners records, as he had done with mine. He was, for damn sure, not going to tell me anything he didnt think I should know. Well, two can play at that game, mister, I thought to myself as we wove our way through the rush hour traffic of mid-town.

"You were awful early coming to get me this morning," I said after many minutes of silence. I was beginning to get used to these long stretches of listening to the sounds of the traffic and not our voices. I didnt know if it was because Muff didnt know what to say, unless it was about the job or making wise cracks, or maybe he preferred silence to mindless chatter. I have always taken my cues from my partners in that regard, it doesnt matter to me whether we talk or not. I used the time to think about my next comments carefully.

"Well I wanted to make sure I was there before you left to catch a bus. Traffic this hour of the morning is murder." As if to punctuate this remark, we hit a particularly nasty snarl of vehicles and Muff stuck his head out the window and spat out a string of Spanish that sounded like epitaphs to me. He followed it up with an upturned fist. I couldnt see if his middle finger was in or out, but I guessed he was trying very hard to keep his wits about him, so I guessed it was just his fist.

"I see," was all I could answer when he put his head back in and found a small opening and sped through it. "Remind me not to meet up with you in a dark alley..." commenting on the road rage I had just witnessed.

"Oh, Jan, dont think that what I did was an indication of my normal sweet personality. If you drive in New York, you have to act like a New York driver sometimes."

"Guess so," I answered. I was becoming the master of the understatement around him. Muff always seemed to have a comeback. And it wasnt lost on me that he shortened my given name to a nickname. I decided our time might be better spent talking about what was on the agenda when we got to work instead of personal banter, which was getting me in trouble.

"I want to call Mike Poole at the three four when we get in and see if he and Jensen got an interview with our Mr. Beckman yet."

Muff looked over at me briefly and then turned his attention back at the traffic. "You havent interviewed him yet? What about this guys rights?"

"Hell, I could care less about his rights, but I dont mean the initial interview." I wondered if Muff was thinking I was brainless again and it aggravated me. "We interrogated him as soon as Poole and Jensen hauled his sorry ass into the station. The only thing the perp said was he was defending himself against two trigger happy cops, that his injury, which turned out to be a flesh wound, was evidence of his claim and that he wanted his lawyer. That was the end of the interview till the guys mouth piece came in, and then we got nothing. I do know, from the DA, that this guy is pleading not guilty, that the shooting was purely self defense."

"Shit!" Muff exclaimed as he pulled into a space reserved on the street for his car. He put it into park. "Well, what are you hoping to get out of the second interview?"

"I wanted to ask him about his involvement with this group, but I didnt get the chance. I left a list of questions for Poole to ask him, if they got the chance. Seems now that the guy has been arraigned on the 1st degree murder charges, we have to go through the DA in order to get an interview. I was glad we were at least able to get a warrant to search his place from a judge. Being that it is a clear cut case that he shot and killed a cop, the judge was all too happy to issue the warrant."

We got out of the car and climbed up the front stairs and through the front doors. The humidity was already starting to make it hard to breathe normally. I changed the subject briefly to ask, "Whats up with the elevator and the air conditioning in this place?"

We entered through the lobby, signed in, picked up a large envelope from the evidence clerk, and headed for the stair well. "You know the city," Muff answered, "no money for the creature comforts--- but I did hear that the elevator might be fixed by the end of the week."

"Thatll be something at least," I remarked, as we climbed the stairs to the third floor. I stopped at the machine to get a cold bottle of water to replace the fluids I had sweat out coming up to the squad room. I offered Muff a bottle and he accepted. Sitting down at our desks, we got our laptops from the briefcases we carried and plugged in for the day.

"What did you find in the perps apartment?" Muff asked as he started to type the report from yesterdays incident. Neither one of us had gotten to do that in all the running around we did afterwards. I pulled out the envelope we had picked up down stairs when we came in. In it was the evidence that had been collected from yesterdays crime scene along with the photographs of the area and the body.

"Not too much, the guy was a slob. We found his computer, the tech boys are still working on that. There was a box of ammo that fit the perps gun, the one he used to shoot ORiley. We looked for a knife, since that was the perps weapon of choice in the murders --- but nothing. He had several hunting catalogues in apartment. There were pages of blades that had similar characteristics to our murder weapon, but this wasnt enough to tie him to the murders. Poole and Jensen were suppose to canvas the weapon shops to see if he bought throw-aways. The knives in the catalogues were all rather expensive to be used as throw-aways. And looking at the condition of the rest of the apartment, this guy wasnt one of the Rockefellers. Wouldnt surprise me if he didnt look at those catalogues to get his rocks off. These guys are sickos, if you ask me."

Muff just chuckled under his breath. "You crack me up, Greig. But it wouldnt surprise me what any of these perps do in their spare time." He went on typing the report. "Well, lets leave your old case for a minute so we can get this one typed up. What evidence is in the envelope?"

I got the impression from the way Muff called me by my last name that he was all business now. It was that dividing wall up again. I took this cue and put on my best professional act. Reaching into the envelope, I took out each piece one at a time and read the label as I scrutinized it. The first was the wallet I had found in the vics torn jacket. "One wallet, student ID gives the name Jesse Morgan. The ID was issued from PS183. I guess that is the high school he attended. We should get it touch with the administration over there and interview them for possible leads."

Muff typed this info into the computer and said, "You think anyone is around since it is summer break?"

"Oh yes, my dad was a teacher and I know the administration has to report to work year round. Besides, most schools are running summer school programs right now. I am sure someone will be able to talk to us." I thought for a minute and added, "I know we both think we know what is really behind this, but it never hurts to eliminate other motives."

"Truth," Muff answered. "What else is in the wallet?"

"Not too much, a bus pass, $12 in ones and a five, a picture of a girl, maybe a girlfriend... She might be another person we should interview."

Muff put this all into the report and said, "Did anyone get a hold of his parents. In all the confusion yesterday, I wasnt sure if someone was assigned that task."

"I dunno, pretty sloppy work on our parts, I guess."

"Not necessarily.... up here we sometimes assign one of the uniforms the job of getting a hold of the family. Even though this guy had an ID doesnt really mean it was his.... Maybe he stole the wallet. Does the ID have a picture?"

"Nope."

Muff thought a minute. "Let me go ask the captain if they have positively IDed the body yet. After all, it hasnt been 24 hours."

"OK," I answered as Muff got up and rapped on Captain Jacksons door. I started to look through the other evidence while Muff was in talking to the captain. There wasnt a whole lot in the envelope. The forensics team sent blood samples found at the scene to the lab and the body was waiting to be autopsied. The kid might have worn glasses, cause a pair was found close to the body. They could have fallen off in the struggle. Those were in the envelope as well. There was a report in the envelope saying all the items had be dusted for fingerprints and that the lab was in the process of putting them through the AFIS system. The vics clothing was at the forensics lab as well, so there wasnt much physical evidence in the envelope. The only other thing they found was the photos and the transcripts of the interviews the uniforms did of any potential witnesses on the scene. I was starting to read these when Muff came back.

"Cap says that when the body came in, he wanted to wait till it was positively IDed before we went to find the parents. He didnt want to cause any unnecessary grief. He wants us to go down to the morgue and see if they got a positive ID by now."

"OK," I answered.

Muff unplugged his computer after saving what he had been working on. "You never know if you might need to reference things, I never go anywhere without this."

I was impressed. "You have something there. I guess I should take mine too."

"Wouldnt hurt."

I returned all the evidence to the envelope and secured it in my locked desk. We were responsible for these vital clues and I wasnt going to have it come up missing. Then I grabbed my computer and put it in my briefcase. I had my cell phone plus some other things I use when on cases in the bag as well. I had found one of those leather looking shoulder satchels that are advertised as laptop cases. It was very portable and even a bit fashionable looking. Muff looked at this and then down at his rather conventional hard-shell case and said, "I think I have to get me one of those."

"I like it," I answered as we walked down the three flights of stairs. We exited the building and headed for the Impala. I asked him how far it was to their crime lab and he answered that it was located close to the Columbia University Presbyterian Medical Center. "We cant afford the fancy equipment they can at their School of Forensic Sciences. But that isnt where we are going now. The body is at the morgue at the Harlem Hospital Center cause it was the closest to the crime scene."

"I see." I also saw that I needed to spend more time researching the locations in my new neighborhood. I am glad Muff knew where we were going, cause I sure was lost.

"By the way, did that ID have an address on it?" Muff asked.

I looked on my computer. I had taken the time to scan the ID into my hard drive while Muff was talking to the captain. "Yeah, East 143rd street. 211, Apt 4A."

"Well if this turns out to be Mr. Morgan, we will have to go and talk to the parents. I dunno if we will have to bring them down here or not, but I guess it would be a good idea."

I shuddered. This was the crappiest part of the job.

We stopped in the part of the lot reserved for the police and went through a back entrance and down the elevator to the basement. I always wondered why most hospitals kept their morgues in the basement, but I guess it was a logical choice. Dead bodies dont need windows and sunlight. I wondered what kind of a person would want to work in such dungeons, but I guess there were as many people who wondered why anyone would go in for police work, so I shrugged and thanked God that someone wanted to do this necessary but ghoulish work.

Muff spoke to the coroner in charge of the case. Besides ascertaining the cause of death, it is the coroners job to make a positive ID based on what the body could tell them. Since the fingers were still intact, the coroner lifted prints from the body and sent those to AFIS, but there wasnt a hit. That didnt really surprise me, since most people dont bother to have fingerprints taken. It just meant the kid didnt have a criminal record or work for someone who might need to take fingerprints for a background check. I know there had been a push to get school kids to be fingerprinted for missing person IDs, but that program had its detractors, and not many school systems had bothered to have the police in to do the work. This made the ID harder in these cases.

"You been able to ID him any other way?" I heard Muff ask the coroner, a Dr. Basu Kumar. Dr. Kumar said, "We checked hospital records, we figured if the boy lived in this area a while, he might be on file. Most residents have been to this hospital at one time or another. We found records for a Jesse Morgan around our vics age, so we did a blood match, since the records had his blood type in it. Turns out they have the same type. Good chance this is your boy."

I turned away so the guys couldnt see a tear form in my eye. I might not be squeamish, but the death of kids always got to me. I know the doctor was only doing his job, but it sometimes struck me as cold, the way they had to go about identifying a DOA, like it was a thing and not a person. When I got myself under control and turned back to Muff, I got that feeling he knew what I thinking. This uncanny sixth sense of his was starting to get on my nerves, but I didnt want him to think it was getting to me. Hell, maybe he couldnt help it.

"Looks like we will have to get the parents down here for an ID then," Muff said, almost in a whisper. It didnt take any sixth sense on my part to tell that Muff hated this part of the work as much as I did. "When can you have the boy ready for them?"

Dr. Kumar looked more human when he said, "Give me about an hour and I will have him looking presentable... I guess just the face will be necessary, since it is unmarked.." It seemed to me that even Dr. Kumar had some trouble with these cases. Made me feel better about my momentary emotional break.

"Yeah, Doc, that will be fine. We need to find the parents first. It might take that long to find them and break the news to them. We will be back in about an hour."

Muff and I got back into the Impala and drove out of the parking lot. As Muff maneuvered the car into traffic, I asked, "You want me to break it to them?"

"It would be the easiest thing for me to say yes to you right now, but maybe I should do it." He looked at me hard and added, "and not because I think you will get all sappy on me being female.... I got more respect for you than that. I just think you being white might have a negative affect on these people." I was about to make a comment about that being a real racist remark trying to ignore the sexist one that came before it, but he stopped me before I got anything out of my mouth. "Look, Grieg, like it or not, we are all a bit racist under the color of our skin. I just want this to go as smoothly as anything like this can. So you will have to trust me on this one. Nothing personal, you understand."

I guess I could see his point. I had felt a bit like a fish out of water yesterday when we went to look at the crime scene. I swallowed my indignation and said, "Sure, you have the experience up here. Whatever you think is best." I guess when I thought about it some more, I was actually relieved I didnt have to be the one to find the right words.

The apartment building was typical of the area. Located in a low to middle class neighborhood, there were kids running around the streets trying to cool off by an open fire hydrant. The building was run down, but not so much so that the tenants didnt try to make it decent looking. There was no elevator in the building, so it was another walk up on a very hot day. I couldnt wait to go home that night and stand under my shower for an hour to take the grime and the sweat off my body.

When Muff knocked at the door, a pleasant looking black woman answered the door. She looked to be in her thirties. "Yeah, whach want?" she asked as Muff identified them and showed her his badge. He asked if they could come in and ask her a few questions. She looked reluctant, but when Muff smiled at her, she seemed to warm up to him and let the two of us in.

The inside of the apartment was not fancy, but I could tell that Mrs. Morgan kept it clean and presentable. Music from a stereo in the back of the apartment blared out and Mrs. Morgan hollered to someone named Taniesha to turn it down. Then she invited us to sit on her sofa. We took our seats and Muff asked her, "Mrs. Morgan, do you have a boy named Jesse?"

"Yeah, what has he done now?" She looked hard at Muff, but there was a bit of fear in her voice.

"Nothing that we know of. Was your boy in the habit of getting into trouble."

Mrs. Morgan got defensive, "No, my Jesses a good boy. Good in school, good grades, helps me out around here when his daddys on the road." She looked at Muff with questioning eyes. "My husband is a truck driver, hes on the road a lot. In fact he is out there right now, but should be home tonight for a few days. When he isnt around, Jesse looks after his sister and me." She paused again and said in a very frightened voice, "Whats this all about? Wheres my Jesse?"

"He hasnt been home, maam?" Muff asked her.

"He never came home from his job yesterday. He works at the grocery store over on 150th street, Taggarts market."

"Is this unusual for him, staying out all night after work?"

Mrs. Morgan thought a minute before she answered Muffs question. "Well normally when his daddys away he comes right home after work, cause he dont like me and his sister to be alone--- but lately hes gotten hisself mixed up with those street punks that hang out at the Scorpions club. He told me it was for protection, that the brothers would be watchin his back--- even gave him a jacket a few nights ago. I swore to him that ifen he got himself into trouble with that gang, I wouldnt be around to bail him out, that he didnt have no use messin with that crowd, he was a good boy---" Tears started to form on her face. "Hes not in any trouble with those low-lifes, is he officer?"

"Not that we are aware of, Mrs. Morgan," Muff answered. I knew he was preparing her for the inevitable, but these questions were driving me a bit nuts, knowing what was coming. "Had Jesse gotten into the habit of staying out at night lately?"

"Yeah, a couple of times, and when he would come home he would be real evasive, telling me not to worry." She got a tissue from a box on the coffee table in front of the sofa and wiped her eyes. "Whacha here for then, if my Jesse isnt in trouble?" Her voice cracked as if it were finally dawning on her what Muff was eluding to. I guess Muff realized this and knew instinctively it was time to break the bad news to her.

"Mrs. Morgan, we have a boy down at the morgue that fits the description of Jesse." Muff stopped at that moment because Mrs. Morgan began to cry loudly and yell out, "Noooo, it cant be--- not my Jesse--- NOOOO." At this outburst, a girl about 10 years old came out of the back bedroom and said, "Whats the matter, mama?" Looking hard at us she added, "Wassa cops doin here?" She put her arms around her mothers weeping form and then asked us, "Whacha upsettin my mama about?"

Mrs. Morgan answered her daughters question before Muff or I could think what to tell the girl. We normally dont talk to the younger siblings unless the parents give us the OK. Sometimes parents like to break news of this nature their own way to the younger kids, and we dont like to interfere with that. "Taniesha, honey, did Jesse come home last night?"

"Not that I know of, Mama. He told me he was comin home after work, tho, cause he was gonna bring me some candy from the store. I figured he was working late again."

Muff needed to step in but did so cautiously now that we had young ears listening in. "Mrs. Morgan, your sons ID was with our--- person, so we need you to come with us to-- em--"

"Its ok, -- Officer?" she said hesitantly.

"Kovack, maam."

"I understand, Officer Kovack. Let me get my things and get my sister to watch Taniesha."

The daughter started to protest, but her mother said, "Look, baby, Mama needs to go with these policeman--- its real important. Ill tell you all about it when I get back. Go up to Aunt Pattys for a bit and tell her your mama needed to go out. Ill be over there as soon as I find out what is goin on, OK?"

"Ok, Mama, but what will I tell Aunt Patty?"

"Just tell her your Mama needed to go out about Jesse, OK?"

"OK," the girl said reluctantly, and left the apartment.

"My sister lives upstairs. Taniesha will be OK with her."

Muff thought of something else. "Mrs. Morgan, did Jesses work call you today looking for him?"

"No, but he wasnt scheduled to work today. I thought he might just be hanging around with that gang of his. You remember what it was like to be 16, doncha Officer Kovack?"

"Yes, Mrs. Morgan, I do." I was guessing she was trying to defend her position as a parent, not knowing where Jesse was and why she didnt question his being missing for this many hours. I know my own mother would have had the FBI looking for me two hours after I didnt show up from somewhere, but I guess things were different these days.

I let Mrs. Morgan ride up front so she wouldnt feel like a suspect. For most people there is a stigma attached to sitting in the back seat of a police car, even if it is an unmarked one. Muff questioned her more about the gang Jesse had gotten himself involved in, and Mrs. Morgan gave a few sketchy answers through her tears. I knew Muff was trying to get her mind off of what was to come, but I also knew that was impossible.

At the hospital, we entered through the same back door, but instead of going downstairs, we entered a small waiting room with a window. The hospital had set up this room strictly for families to identify dead loved ones. It was more personable than the lab downstairs. I was grateful for this small concession for grieving loved ones. Muff went to the interior window and, through a speaker on the wall, asked if they were ready with the body. "Any time you are, Detective," came the answer over the speaker, in Dr. Kumars Indian accent.

Muff then turned to Mrs. Morgan and gently asked her if she was ready. She nodded ever so slightly and I offered her my arm to lean on. I had not spoken to her the whole time, so I wasnt sure if she would take me up on the offer, but when I smiled at her, she seemed to be grateful for another woman in the room and took it willingly. Muff slowly opened the curtain on the window, and through the glass I could see the dead boy laid out with a sheet over most of his body. Only his head was visible, the sheet covering all the signs of violence that had been done to the boy. The coroner had even combed his hair and made his face seem more natural. I had a new respect for his job.

Mrs. Morgan gripped my arm tightly as she broke down for the second time that day. She yelled out "Oh, Jesse, Nooooo" and leaned back against me. There was a sofa on the far side of the room and I helped her over to it before she collapsed on the floor. Muff closed the curtains and joined us on the sofa.

"I am truly sorry for your loss, Mrs. Morgan. I just need to be 100% sure for my report. This is your son?"

Mrs. Morgan just nodded through her sobbing. I offered her some Kleenex when she let go of my arm. She took it and continued crying. "Mrs. Morgan, do you have anyone you can be with right now?"

She finally found her voice. "Just take me back to my sisters--- Oh my God, what am I going to tell my husband? Jesse was his life!" She broke down again. Muff wanted to ask the doctor something and left me with the grieving mother. When he left the room, she looked at me and asked, "How did this happen?" I knew enough not to go into the details, so all I said was, "It looks like he was murdered. We are investigating it now. I want to assure you, we will do everything in our power to find out who did this to your boy, Mrs. Morgan."

"Murdered? Who would want to kill Jesse? He was such a loving boy."

"I dont know. Did Jesse ever mention anyone who might have been hostile toward him lately?" I normally waited to ask the family questions of this nature, but she seemed open to answering them, so I ventured to ask.

"Not that I was aware of, cause that gang of his had plenty of people who didnt like them. I told Jesse not to get mixed up with them." She started to get upset again and I decided it was best to hold off any more questions till