"So detectives, what do you want to talk about this time?" Asked Allen as Stillman and Kat brought him into an interrogation room. "Not that it matters of course. I already told your other flunkies that I've got nothing more to say."

"You don't need to say anything," Stillman replied coldly. "We know all about the significance of the gun Darnell took from David Landis and how you had him killed in order to cover it up. The evidence speaks for itself."

Allen remained calm and defiant. "What on earth are you talking about? You really think I'd have a cop killed because he took a gun from one of my dealers? Sheesh, with police work like this, it's no wonder I was able to stay in business for so long."

"You would if it was used in a murder, which this gun most certainly was," said Kat. "Don't bother denying it. We already found the gun and matched it to the bullets that killed Julia Sears in 1978."

Allen mockingly clapped his hands. "Congratulations. Now you can get to work on finding out who killed her. We all know if you had any evidence I was involved, I'd be cuffed and in front of a judge right now."

"Oh we will," said Stillman. "But in the mean time, we've already found out who killed Darnell Prince. It's an old pal of yours named Raynard Whitney. That name ring a bell?

"Whitney? What does he have to do with this?" Asked Allen, appearing somewhat surprised.

"Oh everything," replied Kat. "You see, David Landis already confessed to being involved in the hit, and he told us Whitney was the one who one who brought him in and explained the entire game plan. Not only that, but we know Whitney was treated in a hospital for injuries the day after the Super Bowl. And to top it all off, we found his fingerprints on file. Pretty soon we'll be able to match them to the ones we found on the murder weapon."

For once, Allen appeared to be nervous. "Now hold on a second..."

"But you havn't even heard the best part yet." Stillman cut in. "We found out Whitney's address."

"You...know where he lives?" Asked Allen

"That's right, Gerald," replied Kat. "Cleveland, Ohio. Why, I'll bet by the time we get out there to interview him, we'll have the fingerprint report from the lab. I can just imagine the look on his face when we show up at his doorstep with the lab report in hand, showing his fingerprints on the murder weapon. I bet he'll be begging us for a deal."

"And we'll be all too happy to give him one," added Stillman, "provided he tells us everything about the person who hired him. I don't like to speculate, but I'm fairly confident he's going to say it was you. That's going to be all we need. With all the other evidence, plus your career history as a felon, it's not going to be too hard to convince a jury you were the one who set the whole thing up."

"Fellas, fellas, hold on a second here," said Allen, his air of confidence and defiance now gone. "Let's be reasonable, I'm sure we can work something out. I can give you what you want..."

"You're not going weasel out of this Allen," Stillman replied bluntly. "You tell us everything right now, and maybe we'll talk to the DA about getting the death penalty off the table. Otherwise you can look forward to spending your final years waiting for a needle in your arm."

Allen sighed. "You're right, Whitney was the third shooter at the scene that night, and if you go to him with the evidence you have, I'm sure he'll say I was the one who hired him. But he'll only do that because he'll know its what you want to hear, not because its true. I didn't pay anyone to kill Darnell Prince."

"Why the hell should we believe that?" Asked Kat.

"Because I know who did!" Allen blurted out unexpectedly.

Allen's statement brought stunned silence to the room for a few seconds, as well as to the other detectives watching the interview from outside. Then Stillman spoke up. "You want us to believe that all this time you've been innocent, yet unwilling to give us the real killer, which would exonerate you."

"I didn't say I was innocent," Allen pointed out. "I said I wasn't involved in the hit. You see the thing is, I didn't kill Darnell Prince...but my actions may have indirectly and inadvertently lead to his death."

"That remains to be seen," said Stillman. "Let's hear your story now. Otherwise, we'll get everything we need from Whitney and we won't have any reason to make any deals with you."

"Not a chance." Allen replied bluntly. "I'm not saying anything until we come to an agreement right now. I tell you what you need to know and I walk out of here a free man."

"You can't possibly expect us to accept that," Kat replied.

"Oh really? I'm not stupid detective. I know you need me to bag your cop killer, and get the guy who killed Julia Sears. You won't get either one of them without me. Besides, I've already done enough for this. I spent 12 years of my life in prison and lost everything. My money, my power, my prestige. It's all gone now. All I've got are my remaining years. Are they really worth letting two murderers walk?

Kat was about to respond, but Stillman cut her off. "Alright, Allen, you got a deal. You're in police custody and we haven't mirandized you yet, so you know full well whatever you say to us can't be used against you. Just tell us who killed Prince and Sears and if we determine it's accurate, and that you were not involved, you'll never have to worry about being charged. But you better start talking before I come to my senses."

Allen smiled. "No problem. Here's how it went down. You were right about the gun. One of my men did use it in a shootout with a rival gang and accidentally killed Julia Sears. I told the moron to ditch the gun, but he never did. Guess he was too attached to it. I was a pretty nice gun, I suppose. Anyway years later he got real close with David Landis, close enough to lend him his gun for protection on the streets. But wouldn't you know it, Darnell took the gun off him and suddenly I'm starting at it in my own bar, in his hands."

"We figured that much." Said Stillman. "Go on".

"Well suffice to say I was horrified. I knew I was already under investigation for a lot of things, but up to that point, my organization had never been linked to any murders. If the truth behind that gun ever came out, it would destroy me. So I had to prevent that from happening. But here is where you got it all wrong. I never planned to kill Darnell Prince. Killing a cop, especially one with a record as clean as his, would be too risky. I'd probably just wind up digging myself into an even deeper hole."

"So what was your plan?" Asked Kat

"Simple. I figured all I needed to do was get the gun back."

"How were you going to do that? It's not like you could just ask him for it." Kat pointed out.

"I know, and I was sure he wouldn't take a bribe. So I decided to use the one person I thought could get the gun back: David Landis' father."

Stillman was surprised to hear this. "Rodney Landis? You were going to use him to get the gun back for you?"

"Sure it seemed like the most reasonable plan. I knew Rodney and Darnell were close friends, so I figured if anyone could get the gun back, it would be him. Besides, it was his son that lost the gun in the first place. The way I figured it, Rodney owed it to me."

"But Rodney wasn't a criminal," Kat pointed out. "And he was wealthy, so bribing him wouldn't work. How were you going to get him to go along with your plan?"

"The same way Darnell came into my bar and "convinced" me to let David go. I figured all I needed to do was make him understand that taking care of this problem would be in his best interest. So I sent a couple of my men to his to his business to pick him up and bring him to me as he was going home from work. When he saw the shiney toys in their hands, he realized it was a good idea to go along and hear me out."

"You had Rodney abducted at gun point?"

"I told you, I needed Rodney to realize just how serious I was. And once he got to my place, that's exactly what I did.

("You Better Run" by Pat Benitar)

Allen sat on one of the stools in his currently empty tavern, waiting for his men to arrive with Rodney Landis. As he was waiting, he couldn't help thinking of the irony of the whole situation. Earlier in the month, Darnell Prince had stormed into this very bar to coerce him into doing what he wanted, and now here he was in the same place, about to do the same thing to Darnell's best friend. Soon his thoughts were interupted by the arrival of Rodney Landis, who entered the bar escorted in by Allen's thugs.

"Well hello Mr. Landis," Allen said mockingly, getting up from his seat. "We havn't been properly introduced, but I'm sure you know who I am."

"L-l-look Gerald, I know you're pissed about David getting caught by the cops." Rodney replied in a frightened tone. "But let me assure you he isn't going to tell them anything. He has kept his mouth shut and that's the way it will remain."

"I know that. You're son's an incompetent fool, but he's not that stupid. However, there is another matter that needs to be resolved."

"What are you talking about?"

"When David was picked up by that cop, your pal Darnell Prince, he had a gun on him. A custom made M1911." As he said this, Allen walked over to Rodney and handed him a photograph of the gun. "My contact in his precinct tells me that no 1911s have been turned in to the evidence room since then. That means Darnell must still have it. I need it back, and you're going to get it for me."

"That's what you brought out here for? Why do you care about this gun anyway?"

"That's none of your concern!" Allen snapped. "You're going to go to Darnell and get the gun from him, end of story!"

"That's absurd. How the hell am I am supposed to do that?"

Allen moved closer, his tone growing more hostile. "That's your problem, not mine! It was your faggot son that lost gun in the first place. Now you're going be a good little dad and fix his fuckup."

"This is outrageous." exclaimed Rodney as he started to back away. "You can't expect me too..."

Before he could finished his sentence, one of Allen's men grabbed Rodney and slammed him face first into the hard tile floor. Rodney rolled on to his back, attempting to get up, but as he did, the man held him down by putting one hand around his throat and stuck a enormous .44 caliber revolver in his face with the other.

"You think you can turn me down!?" Allen shouted. "You may be a big shot at your job, but on my turf you're nothing! I'm the one who makes the rules here. And if you don't play along, the last thing you're ever going to see is the look on David's face as I put a magnum slug into his skull!"

Upon finishing his statement, he emphasized his point by kicking Rodney hard in the ribs. Rodney groaned in pain, stuggling under the grip of the other man holding him down.

"Doesn't feel so good, does it?" Asked Allen. "Just a short while ago, I got the same treatment from your pal Darnell Prince in this very place! All thanks to the screwup from your idiot kid! Now you're going to solve this problem or the treatment you are getting now is going to seem like a mild inconvenience."

"Listen Mr. Allen, my point is..."

Once again Rodney was unable to finish his sentence. This time, the man holding him down slammed his head against the floor and cocked the revolver held against his face.

"I'm through messing around you Rodney! There isn't anything you can do to get out of this! Now I'm going to say this one last time. The situation with Darnell is an unacceptable problem. You are going to solve the problem. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes," Rodney said as he struggled under the grip of Allen's henchman. "I get it."

Allen made a motion with his hands and his henchman responded by letting go of Rodney and allowing him to get up. "That's better. Now listen up. You got two weeks to get this taken care of, Rodney. I mean it. If this problem doesn't get resolved it two weeks, you and your son will cease to exist. There won't even be a corpse for the cops to find. And don't think of going to the police. I know where you live and work. There is no way they are going to be able to protect you. Now get out of the hell out of here!"

Rodney brushed himself off and hurried out of the tavern as fast as a could.

"Less then a week later, Darnell was killed. The papers said it was a burglary, but I knew Rodney Landis set it up," explained Allen. "Believe me, no one was more surprised then I was, or more enraged. It was only pure luck that the cops never linked the hit to back to me. I just wanted the gun back. But I guess Rodney misunderstood me."

"Misunderstood you?!" shouted Kat in a tone of anger and surprise while storming over to Allen. "Darnell is dead because of you and you just write it off as a misunderstanding?!"

"Look lady, I'm not saying that because I find it amusing. I'm telling you that because that's just how it was. If I had wanted Darnell dead, I would have used a professional. Not someone like Rodney Landis. The whole reason I used him because I hoped I could the gun back without any bloodshed. But the moron went off and set up a hit all on his own. I was pissed, but I figured it would be best just to stay the hell away from him. The cops never linked the crime to me, so I figured to just move on while I could."

"There's one problem Gerald," said Stillman. "We know Raynard Whitney was the third shooter. But Whitney didn't work for Rodney. He worked for you."

"I figured you would say that. Did you know Raynard also worked a lawful job as a security officer?"

"Yeah we know, so what?" Asked Kat

"Well did you also know that at the time, he was in charge of security for Rodney Landis' construction company?"

Allen smiled when he saw the surprised expression on the faces of both detectives. "Didn't know that, huh? Think about it. How do you think I knew Rodney Landis was a friend of Darnell Prince? How do you think I knew where he worked and when to pick him up as he was leaving? It was all thanks to Raynard Whitney. But what I didn't know was that Landis found out Whitney was working for me. Don't you see? That's why he hired him for the hit. He figured that if the truth about that night was ever discovered, it would lead the police to me and not him. And apparently it worked."

"I don't know. That seems a bit of a stretch..."

"Come on detective, why do you think it Whitney skipped town the day after the hit. It wasn't just because he was worried about getting arrested. It was also because he was worried about getting caught by me! He took a hit job without my knowledge or authorization and totally fucked it up. Do you have any idea what I would have done to him if he had..." Allen trailed off before finishing his sentence, suddenly remembering who he was talking too.

"Well we'll just have to check into..." Stillman's response was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Sit tight Allen. We'll be right back."

Stillman and Kat left Allen alone in the interrogation room and went outside where Lilly and Scotty were waiting.

"Lt. I can't believe we're just going to let the scumbag walk," exclaimed Kat once they were outside. "Even if he's telling the truth, he's still responsible for Darnell's death."

"Miller, I don't like it any more then you do, but without the real Raynard Whitney to testify against him, we probably would never have convicted him of anything anyway." Stillman pointed out. "We needed Allen to tell us everything and that was the only way."

Then he turned to face his other detectives. "Now, what is it you asked us out here for."

Lilly held up a lab report in her hands. "Boss we got a problem, a big one. We just got the lab report back with the fingerprint checks on David Landis and Raynard Whitney. Landis was telling the truth. His prints are not on the murder weapon."

"Well that's not too surprising," replied Stillman. "So what's the problem?"

"The thing is, Whitney's prints didn't match the ones on the gun either!"

Stillman was amazed by this. "What? You mean Whitney wasn't the third shooter after all?"

"That's what it looks like," said Lilly.

"Without his prints on the gun, it won't matter if it was Allen or Landis who set up the hit." Remarked Stillman. "We won't have enough evidence against either one of them."

"I can't believe this," said Kat. "We had so much evidence against Whitney. The statement from David Landis. His links to Allen. His trip to the hospital. His flight after the shooting. I was so sure he was the one. It just doesn't make sense..."

Suddenly Scotty realized something. "No, it makes perfect sense."

Everyone turned to Scotty, looking for an explanation. "Whitney was the third shooter that night." Scotty explained. "But he wasn't the one who killed Darnell, and I know who it was."