DISCLAIMER: The characters of Law and Order aren't mine. If they were, I wouldn't be writing stories about them on this website.
"What do we got?" Mike Logan asked the CSU officer on the scene.
"Caucasian male. Shot once in the head," the officer replied.
"ID?" Mike asked hopefully, though not expecting one. To his surprise, the officer nodded.
"Alan Grant," he said.
"Alan Grant," Mike repeated. The name sounded familiar. "Isn't he the cop who killed that girl a few months ago?"
"Yeah. He was acquitted a couple of weeks ago. I believe the prosecutor on the case was-" the officer began.
"Jack McCoy," Mike finished for him as Lennie Briscoe joined his partner.
"Just finished talking to the couple that called it in. Said they saw a tall, dark haired man leaving the scene," Lennie said. Mike nodded.
"Maybe we should talk to McCoy, see if he can put us in touch with the family. That would save us some time," Mike suggested and glanced at his watch. "It's 10:30. Want to wait till tomorrow?"
Lennie shook his head. "He's probably still at Hogan Place."
*****
"Come in," a tired voice answered the knock on McCoy's office door. Mike and Lennie walked in. "Detectives," Jack greeted them. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"We were wondering if you could put us in touch with the family of Alan Grant's victim. What was her name?" Lennie said.
McCoy stiffened and supplied the name, "Natalie Anderson. And I never really talked to her family much. What's this about?"
"Alan Grant was shot earlier," Mike answered.
"You sure you can't remember a name? Anyone at all?" Lennie probed. Jack sighed and ran a tired hand through his dark hair.
"She was married. Jason Anderson," he said finally.
"Alright, thanks," Lennie said and followed Mike to the door.
*****
The next morning Mike and Lennie sat across from Jason Anderson at a small glass dining table in his apartment. Anderson, a cop, was shocked and far from disappointed at news of the death of his wife's murderer.
"So, where were you last night?" Mike asked the routine question.
"My partner and I went out for drinks with a few other cops," Jason answered.
"We're going to need those names," Mike said, holding out his notebook and a pen. Jason nodded and scrawled down three names.
"Did your wife have any other family living here?" Lennie asked.
"Her dad, Robert, lives in Chicago but he came down for the trial. He's still here," Jason said after a moment's hesitation.
"Where's he staying?" Lennie asked.
"At his brother's house--but if you want to talk to him I'd check Flannigan's Pub first," Jason replied.
"What's Robert's last name?" Mike asked.
"McCoy," Jason answered. Mike and Lennie exchanged glances as they got up to leave.
"Thanks for your help," Lennie said handing Jason his card. "Call us if there's anything else." Jason nodded in agreement and escorted them to the door.
When the door was closed, Lennie said, "McCoy."
"Not a very common name."
"Come on," Lennie said. "Let's go check out that alibi."
*****
The alibi checked out, and Mike and Lennie were informing Anita Van Buren of their discoveries over some cold pizza and bad coffee.
"So, you think that Robert McCoy is related to Jack McCoy?" Anita asked.
"If he is," Lennie said through a mouthful, "our trusty ADA lied to us."
"Hmm," Anita pondered and took a sip of coffee. "Check out Robert McCoy. If they are related, bring Jack down here."
The two shared a look and finished their slices of pizza before getting up.
*****
Flannigan's was a dark place, and it only had a few patrons. There were a couple of overweight construction workers throwing darts, another two men playing a game of pool, and three people sitting at a bar. Lennie and Mike walked up to a dark haired man sitting at the end of the bar.
"Robert McCoy?" Mike asked, flashing his badge.
"Yeah," the man answered hesitantly. If there was any doubt before that Robert was Jack's brother, it disappeared when they got a good look at the man before them. He was a younger version of Jack. The only major difference were the eyes; Robert's were blue. "How can I help you?"
"We're investigating the murder of Alan Grant," Mike said. The man stiffened at the name, the same way Jack had in his office. "Do you know anything about that?"
"I watch the news," Robert said.
"Where were you Sunday night?" Lennie asked.
"I was here," Robert answered and took a sip of his Guinness.
"All night?" Lennie asked doubtfully.
"Until I went back to my brother's house," Bobby confirmed.
"Jack?"
Robert smiled wanly and said, "Johnny."
"Anyone see you here?" Mike asked.
"The bartender," Robert said.
"You own a gun?" Lennie asked.
"It's registered," Robert replied. Lennie sighed.
"Alright. Stay in town."
*****
"Why'd you lie to us, Jack?" Mike asked Jack McCoy in the interrogation room at the 2-7.
When he didn't answer, Lennie said, "You told us you didn't really talk to the family of Natalie Anderson. You failed to mention you were part of her family."
"It was irrelevant," Jack replied quietly.
"Irrelevant? Grant killed your niece, and then got away with it. That must have made you pretty mad, right?" Mike said.
"And now he's dead," Lennie added. "Do you have an alibi?"
Jack shook his head.
"Hmm…Motive, no alibi, your brother owns a gun…" Mike trailed off.
"You tell us, Counselor. Is that enough for a search warrant?" Lennie asked.
"Depends on the judge. And the lawyer. But, don't sweat it," Jack said reaching into his pocket. He tossed a key to Mike. "You've got my consent. Just make sure I get the key back."
Mike and Lennie looked surprised. "Why are you being so cooperative?" Mike asked.
"Because I appreciate what a pain in the ass an uncooperative suspect can be," Jack answered. "Can I go now?"
*****
"I guess ADA's aren't paid as much as I thought," Mike said, looking around McCoy's shabby apartment.
"His place is nicer than mine," Lennie answered him from the kitchen.
"Detectives," an officer called from inside Jack's bedroom. Lennie and Mike joined him. The officer was holding a gun gingerly in a gloved hand.
"Get that to ballistics," Lennie instructed. The officer nodded and left the room.
"We've got motive and a weapon. And no alibi. If that gun is matched to the bullets, we should have enough for an arrest," Mike observed.
"Don't jump the gun quite yet," Lennie said. "It still needs to be checked for prints."
*****
Mike, Lennie, and Anita were eating lunch in her office when the received the reports from ballistics. Lennie, who was closest, took the reports and scanned through them. "The gun's a winner," he said.
"What about prints?" Anita asked. Lennie flicked through the report.
"A partial match for McCoy," Lennie said. Anita shook her head in disbelief.
"Which one?" Anita asked.
"Jack."
"I don't get it. The man practically dedicates his life to putting murderers in jail. Now he is one," Anita said. Lennie shrugged.
"People change. I knew Alan Grant. He seemed like a decent cop, and then he killed someone too."
Anita sighed. "Pick him up."
*****
Adam Schiff sat in his office discussing a case with Jack and Claire Kincaid when the detectives barged in. The walked over to McCoy, who stood up when they entered.
"John McCoy, you're under arrest for the murder of Alan Grant," Mike said as he cuffed Jack.
"Jack, what the hell is going on?" Adam asked. Claire sat there, her mouth hanging open.
"You have the right to remain silent…"