Peter Gunn Revisited - VII - a continuation... When the commotion cleared and the smell of gun powder lingered in the air, Commie Kamala was laying in a pool of blood. "Joe, hands over your head, and you can drop the butter knife," Peter said in a monotone voice. "Veronica, you're okay," Peter said looking out from under his fedora's brim. Peter continued speaking to Veronica, "Just don't look at it. Images like that stick with you a long time. Oh, and button before you catch cold." Veronica shook like a leaf. Is fumbled with the buttons, missing some, she stopped and kept her back to the body. "Creepy Joe, I've waited a long time to do this," Peter said as he cuffed Joe, "And, drop the stupid butter knife." Joe's hand gripped the knife as if he was paralyzed. As Peter was cuffing him, he pried the knife from his hand and let it drop to the ground. With Joe in cuffs, Peter leaned against a column to collect his thoughts. Veronica looked at him longingly. Call it Stockholm Syndrome or Hero Worship if you want, but she was obviously pining for him. Peter just leaned against the column with a deep stare. His silence was broker, "I'm going to step over to the pay phone and call the police to come clean up this mess." Peter stepped away while he dug a dime from his pocket. ... to be continued...