Actually, April thought thirty years of parent honoring was an awful lot. Trying to brighten her eyes from the evil of Pee Wee's death, she turned to Igor with her ten thousand most pressing questions. Her cell phone rang and "Private" popped up on the screen.

"Sergeant Woo," she said.

"Yes, hello, April, it's Jason. Is this a better time? I really have to talk to you."

"Talk away, I have one minute."

"Have you found Maslow?"

"No, but we found someone else."

"Really?"

"Yes. It's getting spooky out here, Jason. We've got a head case for sure. Can we meet?"

"Someone's dead?"

"Yes, a homeless man."

"Oh, this is not my department."

"Well, that's not the weird thing, Jason. I need your help here. This isn't pick-and-choose time. You brought this situation to me."

"Did I?"

"Yes, you did."

Jason groaned. "You cops, always playing with the truth. I asked you about one of my students, only that. What's the weird thing, April?"

"We have some finds of soft tissue."

"You got me on that, April. Soft tissue from what?"

"Maybe human, maybe not. Our tracker found it buried, you know, near the body, but in different sites. The tissue didn't come from the homicide victim so it could be a whole other thing. What do you make of it?"

Jason groaned again. "April, I'm a psychoanalyst. I work with the living. And among the living. Look, it's weirder than you think."

It was her turn to be surprised. "Really, how's that?"

"I'd like you to treat this as confidential for the moment if you can. But, I just had a little visit from Maslow's father. He has another family. Maslow has a sister he doesn't know about."

"He has a sister?" April was excited.

"Yeah, twenty years old."

"Who's the mother? Where does she live?"

"She's a woman Maslow's father works with, an employee of his. Mother and daughter live in Long Island City. Where the hell is that?"

"In Queens. Jesus!" April was unnerved by the sight of Woody Baum, careening across the grass toward her in Iriarte's Lumina. He was driving the car like an off-road SUV with the lieutenant in the passenger seat and Lieutenant Margaret Mary Joyce, commander of the Detective Squad of the Two-O and April's former boss, in the backseat next to Captain Higgins, the CO of the precinct. From the other direction came the Jeep of Captain Reginald. Shit, what was this, turf war?

"What?" Jason asked.

"Look, Jason, something's come up. I have to go-"

"Wait, I have an address for you," Jason cried.

April turned the page of her notebook. "Okay, sure. Give me the address. I'll go see the sister, where does she live?"

Jason gave her the Long Island City address. She wrote it down quickly, then shoved her notebook into her purse, her eyes nervously on the Lumina that seemed to have her targeted for a hit. She stood there trying to be cool, and Woody stopped just short of crashing into her.

Then, still dressed for summer in a butter yellow suit, mango shirt, mint green tie, and straw hat, Lieutenant Iriarte jumped out of the car and slammed the door. "Woo, what the mother-fucking hell do you think you're doing?" he screamed.

The sudden loss of face like the bang of a popped balloon in front of her former bosses made April's head swim. Neither Captain Higgins, who didn't like girl cops, nor Lieutenant Joyce, who didn't like her, had ever spoken to her quite like that.

Joyce, a big swearer herself, looked pretty surprised by the attack. She got out of the car moving one plump leg at a time, a frown gathering on her pugnacious face. Higgins was out of the car. Baum jumped out. Captain Reginald, CO of the Central Park Precinct, was out of his Jeep, running toward them, too. April prayed for bloody turf war.

"Good morning, sir. Lieutenant Joyce, congratulations on your promotion. Good morning, Captain Higgins, Captain Reginald." April gave them all a second, covered all the bases except for Baum, who had seemed a little too happy with the opportunity to run her down.

"Yeah, and congratulations on yours. I always knew you'd make good." Lieutenant Joyce glanced at Iriarte and gave April a real smile. "And congratulations on your upcoming nuptials, too," she added.

"My nuptials?" April blushed some more.

"Yeah, I heard you and Mike are getting married. I like it when my best people get together. Mazeltov." This was for all the captains' benefit. A few courtesies before the ax fell.

Higgins guffawed at the Yiddish.

"We're just friends, Lieutenant-" April said. She was freaked by all the brass and saw her career careening toward a desk job in Housing for sure.

''Enough of the chitchat," Iriarte interrupted her peevishly. "I've had complaints about you, Woo." He eyed Captain Reginald.

Thousands of years of prescribed correct Chinese behavior for people of lower rank, including and especially females, had coded April's genes to make her bow to the ground, to smack her forehead on the earth, and beg for forgiveness for her lack of wisdom and any involuntary foolishness that she might wrongfully have committed. Correct Chinese behavior warned that the tongue was dangerous to the throat. In other words, shut up.

Being in a new country and new century altogether, however, a reasonable modification of forehead knocking might be to wither to half-self, cast her eyes down, and attempt to disappear. This self-effacement tactic to appease an irritated boss, though, was at odds with her more recent training from Lieutenant Joyce and Mike Sanchez, who were big stand-up-for-yourself people. For a second she was almost conflicted about which way to go.

"I'm with Lieutenant Sanchez," she said officiously. "He's working Special Case on the Atkins case. Last night he requested a second dog tracker, I suggested John Zumech. I worked with Zumech when I was in the Two-O. Do you know him, sir?" she asked Iriarte.

"He's worked in here before." Captain Reginald affirmed Zumech's credibility, then waited for the shit to hit.

"What does Zumech have to do with it?" With the comment from the CP CO, Iriarte's mood darkened further. His tongue worked its way around his mouth unhappily.

"It was his dog that found Pee Wee James." April glanced at Lieutenant Joyce. She nodded. Way to go, April.

"Is that the victim?" Baum blurted out.

April nodded at Captain Reginald. Now was not the time to mend fences with him. She turned to Iriarte again. "What happened, sir? I had the vic in an interview room yesterday morning. When I returned last night at 2100, I found out he'd been released at noon. Now he's dead. Unfortunate." Now she was stepping way out of line.

Iriarte didn't like it one bit. His tongue punched out the side of his cheek. Clearly whatever report he'd received on the homicide hadn't revealed the victim's identity. He didn't like hearing it from April.

"It's James?" he said unhappily.

"Yes, sir," she told him. Pee Wee was zipped up in the bag. The finger was packaged separately.

Iriarte watched the removal of the remains with the distress of someone about to lose a promotion.

"Hey, this was your investigation, April. As far as I'm concerned, you can take the homicide," Joyce said with a smile. "You'll solve it one, two, three, right, Captain?"

"Yeah, good plan," Higgins agreed. He didn't want the case in the Two-O. They hadn't caught it in the first place. Why take on a big problem?

The Central Park Precinct wasn't set up for homicide investigations. That meant that the closest precinct was Midtown North, just what Iriarte didn't want. No one wanted Special Case in it, either. Made them all look bad.

"April was the best detective I ever had, right, Captain?" Joyce said.

"No question," Higgins agreed.

Now April could see why the three of them had come together. They all wanted April to take the heat for the homicide. The dog barked, easing the tension. Looked like the search was over. Mike strolled toward them with Zumech. Peachy was at his side, heeling nicely. The two men were in serious conversation. No sign of Maslow.