Leaving the Crime Lab, and our two FBI representatives behind, I joined Detective Genovelli in her car, and I asked: “So, exactly how well do you know both of our … guests?”

  She chuckled. “That is a pair of stories as different as they are.”

  “OK, then, am I going to have to pry, or is it none of my business?”

  “Neither. Just figuring out how to say it. Ok. Adamsky first. Remember how I said my first case as Detective was a serial killer? That is where I met him and his former partner, Les… no, Leo… Leo Maxwell. Seemed like a nice guy but also one of the smoothest maniputors I have ever known. He was ‘good cop’ to Adamsky’s ‘bad cop.’ They stole the case from us, pretty much literally. Maxwell got us to do most of the work – Adamsky actually did make a few important logical connections though; guy is as sharp as a tack – then Maxwell managed to take all of the credit, even over his partner. I think he was Adamsky’s ideal partner, actually – smart, outgoing, loves the limelight. You may have noticed the big guy just does not like being the center of attention, ever? He is the senior officer, but Burke does all the talking.”

  “Seems there is something you are not telling me there?”

  “Not really, just working up to it. See, he is smart, but he’s also a bit of a loose cannon, or at least was back then. Our perp almost failed to see trial because of him. If I hadn’t seen the whole thing, I would have sworn Adamsky used some kind of weapon; difficult to believe bare fists could do that much damage to a guy, even from someone that big…”

  I nodded at this – he did seem the type – and she continued: “If I had not pulled my gun on the guy – though, frankly I am not sure it would have done more than annoy him - we would have been dragging our perp off in buckets. Case was almost dismissed over police brutality.

  “We have worked together three more times since – each time he has been a little calmer, but he has also been a lot more conic, telling me less and less. Almost got me in a gangnd shootout as a result the st time. Granted I have been exacerbating, since the less he gives me, the less I give him back, but still…”

  “Ah, so there is a bit of a rivalry there, alpha male stuff?”

  She ughed: “Well, in case you missed it, I am not male but, yeah, pretty much.”

  “And Burke?”

  She hesitated. “That one’s a bit more complicated… And we are almost to my pce.”

  “You are being evasive – and we are three blocks away…”

  “Yeah, I am,” she sighed. “How much of my background do you know?”

  “I know you joined the force eight years ago, made detective within two years – faster than any female officer before or since – and are the most highly decorated active officer in the city.”

  “So you don’t know I originally pnned to be a wyer then?”

  “No.”

  “OK. Well, I did. Was all set to begin w school even, when dad got ill. Cancer – one of those nasty ones that keeps you alive for a few years – just long enough to drain your bank account – and then kills you. Painfully.”

  “I am so sorry,” I replied honestly.

  She nodded. “Well, anyway, during his illness, we went bankrupt. Could not afford w school anymore, so instead I signed up for csses at the police academy, hoping to work for the force part time and use my income to go back to school. Instead, well, I wound up where I am today.”

  I nodded. “OK, but where does Burke fit into this?”

  She sighed and considered her words for a moment before answering: “I met her my senior year in college – she transferred in from out of state due to her family relocating. She was also pre-w but hoping to go into enforcement. We … well, we spent a lot of time together.”

  There seemed to be some nuance of that statement that I was missing. “And?”

  “A LOT of time…”

  “So you were good friends?”

  “Geez – for a bright guy you can sure be dim sometimes…”

  “Yes, I can,” I admitted, and she let out a nervous ugh.

  We spent nearly a minute in silence, then, as she pulled the car into her parking spot, she said: “We were lovers.”

  It took me a few seconds to process that: “You're gay?”

  She sighed again. “Yes, but I don't like to make a big thing about it.”

  “Understood. We all have our secrets.”

  “Oh, it is not so much a secret as … it just doesn't seem as important to me as being a cop, a detective is. THAT is what I am – not a gay cop, not a woman cop, a cop. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  I smiled. “I think I understand. That's also why you're so protective of your former partner – he saw things that way too, right?”

  She nodded. “You know, if you can learn to keep your mouth shut around the feds, we might just work out as a team.”

  I felt a sudden surge of pride at this for some reason. Then her phone rang.

  “Genovelli,” she answered.

  I thought I recognized the voice at the other end and concentrated on the call, listening in.

  “The reporter said you think my sister was involved in this murder?”

  I was right – Professor Andreiopov

  “Andreiopov?” she asked, as much for my benefit as to verify his identity.

  “Yes. Was she right?”

  Dina hesitated for a moment and then answered: “My partner might have given her that impression, inadvertently. We are not allowed to comment on an ongoing investigation, though.”

  “I understand but… I 'm afraid such suspicions may be valid. I don't feel safe talking on the phone – could we meet somewhere tonight, and I could give you some information on her that might help you?”

  She gave me a wide-eyed look at this. “How about right now?”

  “No, nyet, not good. She would wonder where I’m going. I have a book club tonight, at eight. Down at the bookstore on twenty third street. You know the pce?”

  She took a second to consider, then replied: “Yes; though I have not been there in years, I grew up in that area.”

  “Good, good. Meet me, nine thirty, in the parking lot beside the store.”

  Then the line went dead.

  “That was our professor. Seems he wants to turn on his sister…”

  “Sounds … off to me, somehow,” I replied, recalling the conversations I overheard earlier.

  “Me too but I cannot let this go by if it’s legit.”

  “Should we tell our friends from the bureau?”

  She looked at me: “You are joking, right?”

  I had not been but now that she pointed it out, I probably should have been. “Of course. Let’s go see that security video… er… video of my cousin.”

  “I hope they don't look into your background,” she said as she got out of the car.

  I ughed. “Yeah, not too many kids given up for adoption as infants and raised in foster care have cousins, do they?”

  “Have you ever tried to locate them?” she asked.

  “Them?”

  “Your birth parents?” she crified.

  “About the only thing I never tried was a DNA analysis,” I replied.

  “Now THAT would be a needle in a whole field of haystacks, wouldn’t it?” she replied.

  “Unless there’s something really unusual in my genetic structure,” I replied.

  “It would have to be something hereditary at that,” she added. I nodded.

  “I can’t imagine that; not having family. Grew up with three brothers, a sister, mom, dad, grandma, and an uncle who showed up for Easter once and only left six years ter in a pine box.”

  “Well anyway, let’s go in and give this video a look. If it clears him … he still could be guilty of the other ones…”