The Coventry Cloaked Creeper.

'Yet Another Victim of the Coventry Cloaked Creeper.'

My eyes skimmed the title of the newspaper article. I didn't need to read anymore. I'm the lead detective on the case. I already knew more than what was written. Well, it was The Sun, so there was most likely stuff in there that I'd never heard before. It's been going on for over six months now, last week was the ninth victim of the mysterious killer who murders their victims late at night and covers their bodies in yellow dye. The trademark of some sick individual, a sick individual that we know nothing about. There are no fingerprints on the body, no footprints, and the victims are all killed in the same way, with a single blow to the back of the head. Even if one survived they wouldn't be able to provide a description. The only description we have is from one drunken man who caught the culprit dyeing the third victim. The only thing the drunk could tell us is that he was wearing a long cloak but couldn't even describe it because of the lack of light. More like because he was too plastered to see more than three feet in front of him. Whoever this psycho is, they've got the entire city in hysteria. Nobody in Coventry goes out after dark, and people are letting their imagination get the better of them.

"I said, this is detective inspector Stephenson, the man I told you about yesterday."

I was pulled from my thoughts by the sound of my captains voice. I forgot about Stephenson.

"A pleasure to have the opportunity to assist you, sir," he said whilst shaking my hand a little to eagerly for a Monday morning.

"Good to have you on board. I'm detective inspector Michael Seddon, but call me Mike."

"And you call me Adam."

Adam was supposed to be assisting me on this case. He was based in Sheffield but because of his 28 years of experience in cases such as these, not to mention his success rate and high recommendations, he was chosen instantly for the job. He was 52, but looked no more than 42. He had a cheerful disposition and a kind, easy smile. A welcomed contrast from our captain who had a dull tone of voice that would make you think the man had never heard music before and a look that told you that he had no desire to either.

. . .

Another two months passed and claimed another victim. The city demanded justice and my team and I couldn't provide it. Adam was my second in command but he had made more progress in this case than I had. It was because of him we discovered the maniac was male, around 5'11 and white. But the best lead we had was that he now walked with a limp. Another witness saw a man running with a limp away from the crime scene, in a long cloak. Had he not been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction, I'm sure he could have told us a lot more.

Adam came rushing into my office, a little out of breath and completely wild with excitement. "Have you heard? Did Joanne tell you?"

"Tell me wh-"

"The button! About the button they found in the autopsy? A button from a bloody copper!"

"What? No - when -"

Just then my desk phone rang, it was Joanne. It was ripped from my hands, "yes, Joanne I just told him everything... oh, actually I forgot that part." And he hung up. "A captains uniform! They're interviewing all the captains from the department. I bet it's old captain Lawrence."

Over these past months Adam and I have bonded over a lot of things, that he'd only been in the city for a year (just five months less than I have), we've both been divorced and have a son, we both spent some time in the armed forces and we both had a mutual disliking for our captain, Laurence. However, we didn't share a sense of humour. I didn't like to joke about it being him, you never know who'll believe it.

"Anyway, we gotta bring him in for his interview" he said lazily. Captain Laurence has been on sick leave for a couple of weeks now, nobody knows why. "You're driving" Adam added. I admired Adam, I wish I could be less stiff and have his relaxed attitude. There was never a sense of urgency with him, except when he was excited about something. No panic, no stress. I guess that what comes with 28 years of experience. We even stopped at McDonalds on the way to captain Laurences house since he insisted. I almost wish we hadn't since by the time we got there it was getting dark.

"Do you think it was him then?" I asked jokingly, although I wanted an answer.

"Nooo, he might be a little odd and sinister, but that doesn't mean he sticks on a long purple cloak and goes about making people look like dead Simpsons characters in his spare time" he said, taking a sip of his coke. I didn't reply but felt more at ease. "And why would he do it? He's just giving himself more paperwork."

. . .

Knock, knock, knock. The fifth time. We know he's in, we saw his light turn off when we pulled up. "Look, captain. We're not going anywhere. There's been some new developments and we need you to come in" I called through the letterbox.

"Just break it down" Adam said as he finished off his fries.

"That seems a bit excessive."

"Saves you shouting about a highly secret homicide investigation through someones letterbox on the street."

He had a point.

Just then the door opened.

"I'm not going with you. Leave. Come back with a warrant." He tried to slam the door but Adam caught it, we saw him walk away... We saw him limp away. We both shot each other a look. "I'm afraid we can't do that, sir." Adam charged into the house in his usual spontaneous manner. Laurence disappeared into the kitchen and by the time I got in there he held a knife to Adams throat.

"Can't you see?! I'm being framed! I haven't done these things! I knew it would only be a matter of time! I knew you'd come for me!"

"You're a sick man!" cried Adam in disgust and he reached for his handcuffs. He didn't stand a chance. The blade struck him in the shoulder. And then again and again.

. . .

After watching Adams ambulance speed away I sat my car. I had to give a statement, of course. The wild look of terror and furious panic in the captains eyes. I couldn't get it out of my mind. I've seen that look somewhere before.... but where? I tried to piece everything together. How the blade struck Adams shoulder when it was pointed at his throat, how backup got here so quickly, how I managed to escape unharmed. I prepared myself to give a statement and went through everything that happened, every interaction with Adam and Laurence. I've read about twists like this before in Agatha Christie novels but not in real life, not in Coventry. I leaned my head back in my seat and closed my eyes, even closed eyelids couldn't stop the flashing blue lights piercing through. As I went back in my mind I had a sinking feeling. Something I had not realised before.

I never told Adam what colour the cloak was.

Nobody knew. Not even the witnesses.

It was then I realised where I had seen that look in the captains eyes before. I've been doing this job for two decades now, I've arrested a lot of people, including the innocent ones. I should have known. He held the blade to Adams throat, if he was a killer, he could have killed him as easily in such a position. But no, it required conscious effort to move the blade to point down towards his shoulder. I didn't call for backup, and I didn't call the ambulance. The only one that could have was Adam. I didn't want to believe it but it explained why he so readily rushed into the house, knowing medical assistance was on it's way. I was paralysed with dread. But it eased itself with the realisation that I knew. I knew who was to blame. It was all him! At least now the case could close and there would be no more victims. I was ready for my statement.

Just then a voice on the other end of a walkie talkie caught my attention. "8-12 recieving, over."

"An ambulance has crashed on the A4053, two paramedics dead, the driver gravely injured and the patient is... well, the patient is... missing."