"You know you guys really can't be here for this," Captain Olsen said when Mike and Steve walked through the door of Homicide.

Mike put up his hands. "Relax, Rudy, we just came in to say hi to everybody." They strolled towards the inner office, the captain trailing behind.

"Yeah, right. Why do I have a hard time believing that," Olsen mumbled to himself. "Who called you, Haseejian?" he asked louder.

Steve looked over his shoulder. "Nobody called us," he said innocently. "Why, what's going on?" He dropped into the guest chair in the office as his partner sat in his regular spot, tossing his fedora onto the desk.

"Fine, all right," Olsen surrendered, his hands in the air. "Enjoy your visit, but if I see either of you anywhere near the interview rooms, I'll have you both escorted from the building, do you hear me? We have come too far with this to have it jeopardized by you two when you're not supposed to be anywhere near here and you have no authority right now." When he was met by two beatific smiles, he shrugged helplessly and crossed the squad room with a frustrated sigh.

Mike and Steve were still chuckling when Tanner and Lessing appeared in the doorway. "So what are you guys up to?" Tanner asked, watching the captain leave the room.

Waiting till Olsen was out of sight, Mike turned to his inspectors, suddenly serious. "Do they have Madsen?"

Lessing nodded. "Yeah, he was brought in about a half hour ago, but they didn't place him under arrest. He was told he was just being brought in for another debriefing about the Pettet shooting."

"Did he seem suspicious at all?" Steve asked.

"Nope, Norm and Dan handled it like it was just routine. They made him wait in here for a few minutes while they finished off a report they were working on. Then they got Bill and me to bring in a couple of loud suspects that made conversation in here difficult, and Norm asked Madsen if he wouldn't mind if they moved their talk into the interrogation room so they could have some quiet." Lessing chuckled. "They were smooth, man. Madsen fell for it."

Mike glanced at his watch. "It's already 4 p.m. and they're just getting started. I think it's gonna be a long night." He paused then looked at Tanner. "Bill, could you do me a favor and ask Patrolman McKinley if he could come by to see me? He should be just getting off his shift."

"Sure, Mike," Tanner said, turning on his heel and leaving the room.

"What's that all about?" Steve asked.

"Oh, I just want to pass the time of day with him," Mike answered with a smile.

# # # # #

Haseejian had his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up. He took a sip from the can of Coke on the table near his elbow then made another notation in his notebook. Healey was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room near the door, a file in his lap.

Madsen, in the chair across the table from Haseejian, his hat on the table before him, glanced at his watch and tried to suppress an irritated sigh. Healey eyes flicked up, catching the movement, but he didn't say anything. He smiled subtly to himself.

"So," said Haseejian finally, "where do you know the Lieutenant and the Inspector from again? 'Cause, you know, your partner said you were calling them by their first names at the scene but the Lieutenant and the Inspector don't ever remember meeting you." He looked up and stared at Madsen pointedly but friendly.

"I, uh, well, I never really met them, but everybody in the department knows about Lieutenant Stone and Inspector Keller. They're almost legendary, right? So I guess I just felt I knew them, you know, like people think they know T.V. characters, right? Archie Bunker, Joe Friday…?"

Haseejian chuckled. "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. One of my girlfriends once asked if I ever met Chief Ironside on this job." Healey laughed so hard he started coughing, so he got up and walked to the table, picking up his own can of Coke and taking a deep draft. Madsen's laugh was uncomfortable.

"So, Andy – you don't mind if I call you Andy, right?" Haseejian asked in all innocence, and when Madsen nodded he continued, "Thanks. Andy, so, just to go over this again, because we really want to make sure that what Abbott told IA jibes with what you put in your report, when you got into the bedroom on the second floor – that's the room at the end of the hall – the Lieutenant was lying unconscious in the doorway with his gun in his left hand…?"

Madsen nodded, "Yes, sir."

"And on the far side of the bed, lying on his back, was the body of Pettet, and there was no sign whatsoever of a knife on or near his body?"

"Yes, sir, the body was there, and there was no sign of a knife anywhere."

"Yeah, hmmm, that does correspond with what Abbott said to IA, that there was no knife in Pettet's hand when he got up and Mike shot him the second time." He seemed to accept the similarity of the accounts reluctantly. He continued to write for several long silent moments, and Madsen fidgeted again.

Glancing up and smiling, Haseejian put the pen down then snapped the file shut and pushed it away. Madsen, seeming to believe their discussion was over, began to rise, only to resettle when Haseejian pulled another file closer and opened it, rifling through the top pages with aggravating slowness. Both sergeants saw the patrolman glance at his watch again.

Suddenly Haseejian looked up. "Did you know David Abbott?" he barked sharply.

Madsen's head snapped back and he froze. "Excuse me?"

Haseejian smiled and repeated more slowly, "Did you know David Abbott?"

"Uh, no, sir, we never met."

"You're sure about that?" Haseejian stare went from Madsen's face down to the file on the table. He opened the brass fasteners on the top of the file and took off the top sheet, sliding it across the table. "This is your handwriting, isn't it?"

Madsen looked down and both sergeants noted the almost imperceptible hesitation when his eyes settled on the paper. The patrolman swallowed. "Yes, that's my writing."

Haseejian picked the sheet back up and turned it so he could read it. "Paul Anthony Beaumont. Do you remember him?"

"Ah, yes, sir, he was a street musician that I ticketed for public urination a few weeks ago."

"That's right. But you didn't just issue one ticket, did you? You wrote two, if I'm not mistaken, right?"

"No, it was just him," Madsen insisted.

Haseejian smiled again, looking very much like a mongoose eyeing a cobra. "No, I don't think so. You see, we found out about a missing ticket and that seemed just a little suspicious to us, so Dan here," he nodded towards Healey, "he spent yesterday tracking down Mr. Paul Anthony Beaumont and Mr. Beaumont told him all about how he and Mr. Abbott got stoned one afternoon while they were 'buskering' and took a pee against a wall and got into trouble with law enforcement because of it."

Madsen had sat back in his chair. He had swallowed hard and his eyes had shifted from Haseejian to Healey and back, and it was obvious to the two sergeants that the young patrolman was beginning to feel the noose around his neck.

"He even remembered that he had been given the first ticket and Abbott the second, which fits in quite well with Sergeant Healey's discovery of that missing ticket, which happens to be sequentially the one issued after this one." He tapped his index finger on the paper on the table.

Madsen swallowed again then, looking straight ahead, said forcefully, "If you wish to continue, then I suggest you arrest me right now because I'm leaving." He began to stand.

Haseejian tilted his head slightly in Healey's direction. "Dan." Healey stood quickly, dropping the file he was holding onto the floor, and crossed quickly to beside Madsen. "Andrew Alan Madsen, you are under arrest for tampering with evidence and filing a false report, with other charges pending. You have the right –"

"I know my rights," Madsen spat out, "and I waive them. And you don't have to cuff me, I'm not going anywhere." He sat back down heavily.

Healey looked at Haseejian, who eventually nodded. Healey returned to his chair.

Madsen stared down at the table for several long seconds, then he looked up at Haseejian. "Before we continue I want to make a phone call."

"All right," the Armenian sergeant nodded, "we'll take you to an office so you can use the phone, then we're coming right back here. You better call your wife 'cause I don't think you're gonna be home tonight."

# # # # #

Haseejian walked into the Homicide Bureau as McKinley was leaving. The young patrolman looked shaken and walked past the sergeant without making eye contact.

Haseejian shook his head in confusion then looked up, surprised to see Mike and Steve in the inner office. He crossed to the doorway.

"What are you two doing here and why was he here?" he said, gesturing over his shoulder in the direction McKinley had gone.

"Relax," Mike smiled, "we're not here to interfere, don't worry. This is all you and Dan. I just wanted to feel out McKinley to see if he really was the wide-eyed innocent in all this. And guess what, he is. He's pretty shook up right now and he doesn't even really know what's going on. I kinda feel sorry for him."

"How's it going in there?" asked Steve.

Haseejian grinned. "Well, we put the noose over his head a couple of hours ago, and a few minutes ago we tightened it. We just Mirandized him and Healey's got him in an office with a phone; he's making a couple of calls. He knows we've got him – now we just have to get him to admit it. It ain't gonna be easy but it's sure gonna be fun."

"Well done," said Mike with genuine admiration.

"Thanks." Haseejian's grin faded. "I just hope we find out what happened to that Abbott kid. The more I find out about him the more I hope he's safe and sound somewhere, just scared to come forward and tell someone that he was blackmailed into saying what he did. Talk about a wide-eyed innocent…"

Mike and Steve nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I'm beginning to feel that Abbott and I have a lot in common in all this; he got blindsided too," Mike said sadly.

"Yeah, well, I better get back in there," Haseejian said with a sigh. "Gonna be a long night, but this may all be behind us by tomorrow morning, guys."

"Finger crossed, Norm," Steve called as the sergeant turned and left the squad room.

Mike looked at his partner. "Well, give me a few minutes to go fill Rudy in on what's happening and then we'll go home. Deal?"

# # # # #

Steve was taking the free time to tidy his desk - filing reports and cleaning up. The office was quiet, the sun was down and the place had a definite 'end of the day' feel. One of the new inspectors was at his desk in the corner filling out a form on a old typewriter; Tanner and Lessing, though they could have left hours before were hovering around and Sekulovich was on his way out the door.

"Let go of me, I've got a right to be here!" came a deep angry voice from the hallway and, as heads came up, a stocky, grey-haired older man came barreling into the office, two young officers in tow. "Who's in charge here?!" he spat out, glancing around the room, his eyes sliding over Lessing and Tanner and coming to rest on Steve.

Steve got up and took a step towards the newcomer. "Excuse me, sir, can I help –"

"I wanna see my son! Where is he?! I have the right to see him!"

"Excuse me, who's your –?"

"Garrity!" A commanding voice sliced through the air and everyone froze.

Garrity turned slowly, his grizzled unshaven face and rheumy eyes settling with disgust on Mike, who stood in the doorway. Nobody moved as they eyed each other, the atmosphere around them crackling with animosity.