1

9:00, at the local police station, a man, Wayne Painter, rushes out of his office to the director's office, banging on the door, which has a small plaque reading, George, Smith, Department Head.

“Hey boss! A new sighting of the white, cloak, guy, yeah, white cloak guy; either way a couple of people called in to report a sighting of him leaving Moe and Joe’s Diner, with a bag slung over his shoulder. The people working at Moe and Joe’s called in themselves, saying that he had appeared soon after they opened up, and only took the money. You hearing me?

The aforementioned plaque suddenly moves towards Wayne, almost hitting him.

“I do, I do! Now can you shut up!” George yells into Wayne’s face, “I am trying to get next month's budget figured out, but you’re here buggin’ me about a man in a goddamn white cloak, when I'm trying to do actual fucking work. So if you’re only here to tell me that one piece of news, you can fuck off! Because, I’m afraid, coming to me, about every little thing is getting us nowhere fast. So, get back to work.”

George slams the door shut, leaving Wayne staggered, and dumbfounded.

10 o'clock, in a relatively large hut, though it looked more like an old homestead, next to an abandoned warehouse, the Cloaked Bandit opens the door to said hut, takes off the white shroud, sets down the bag of cash, then sits down on one of the only chairs in the room, and sighs a silent sigh, while taking out two pairs of keys.

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It’s been a long day, he shot a man, robbed his corpse, he robbed a restaurant, shot another guy, found the keys to his house rummaging through his pockets. He scoped out the area of the house, it was fairly expensive looking, with a couple of branching walkways, and a garden, but nothing too special.

After he was done reflecting on the day, he continued sitting in his chair and inspected his abode, it had the normal hut look about it, with a couple of knicks and knacks hanging on the walls, some small counters, but otherwise, it was barren. Taking out the newspaper he had gotten while he was out on the town, don’t worry it wasn’t in his usual attire, and started reading. After a few moments relishing his deeds, he flipped to the back, where the puzzle sheet was, and tried to do the crossword, and failed, but stopped to do the sudoku.

10:15, in George’s office.

“Are you, telling me, that the mayor, got shot, under our noses, and we don’t know who did it?”

“Yes sir, that is indeed what I am saying to you si-”

“Get out of my office.”

The man scrambles out of the door, with George yelling behind him,

“And tell Wayne to come see me, I have some words for him!”

And with that, George slumps down into his chair, hoping to be able to retire soon and never think about this job again. Unslumping his back to look around his room, he sees the empty shelf space, and thinks about his father, a good caring father and husband, too bad pneumonia took him down 20 years ago.

Shaking himself of the thought of the past, George waits in silence for Wayne to appear at his door, thankfully it doesn’t take long.