It was barely 7am, and Steve was on his third cup of coffee, the slight trembling of his hands suggesting he'd reached his daily maximum of caffeine consumption already.

Taking another long sip, he glanced back down at the R&I files of their three victims, connecting a few random thoughts here and there, and yet not making much headway. There were geographical and societal connections between Darrins and McMillan, and McMillan and Peterson, but no one factor connected all three.

Letting out a slow breath, he tried to ignore his rumbling stomach, a combination of lack of sleep for most of the night, his senses still cued on the strange feeling of being watched, along with his concern on how this case was evolving.

Three deaths in and very few links to proceed in their investigation was enough to set his insides on fire.

Steve ran a soothing hand over his nervous stomach, then pulled on the collar of his black turtleneck sweater, as if to symbolically gasp for air.

He hadn't heard from Mike yet, hopefully an indication that the Lieutenant had a better night than he did.

Glancing across the empty bullpen, Steve was about to refill his coffee once again, when the telephone rang.

Perhaps Mike was awake already after all.

"This is Inspector Keller?"

He could immediately tell from the noise on the other end that the caller was outside, near the railcar tracks on Market, judging g by the all too familiar bleeping in the background.

"Yo, Stephen, my man. Heard you tried to get a hold of me."

"Clarence, Clarence. Took you long enough to get back with me…"

Changing the receiver to the other ear, Steve reached for a pen and paper, knowing that the call meant his stoolie had something for him.

"You know, you've grown impatient ever since you switched to Homicide, compadre. I had things to do, Vice to avoid, stuff like that."

"Alright, I get it. Did Enrique tell you why I called? Have you heard anything?"

Hesitating slightly, the bookie mumbled something incomprehensible to a bystander near the phone booth, before returning to the conversation.

"I might have something, but not sure. Could be a totally unrelated psycho, you know how this town is. Full of them psychos, if you ask me. Anyways, there's been a creature hanging around down here for a few months, always wears a mask, even at the bar. Nobody even knows if it's a guy or a chick. Wears one of those theatre masks and talks funny."

"Talks funny? What do you mean?"

"Like, talks about supporting the common man and how the sinners and those overcome by greed will be punished by the thread of righteousness. Sounded a whole lot like strangling dudes with a wire to me. Gets worse the more it drinks."

"Thread of righteousness. Very interesting. Is he or she a regular at a certain bar down on Market, do you know?"

"I know a couple of the places where it hangs out, if you want to meet me in half an hour and we can talk to the owners. Do bring coffee and breakfast though. I just got back out of the can and I am hungry. You cops owe me."