The Stranger looked at the gray streaks beginning to discolor the thin patch of black sky visible from the Alley. He retraced his steps along the dingy bricks, back to the garbage cans under the rust-locked fire escape.   He hunkered down, staring intently. He held out a finger, and felt the dark liquid pooling under one corner of the rusty platform. He looked up in time to see the next slow drop of blood tumble down. He was sorry the cops were gone. But that goddamn Madison was around somewhere, and he'd be interested to know about a puddle of still-warm blood.

He reached behind the nearest trash dumpster and drew out a large gigbag with the word "Martin" stenciled on it. He slung it over his shoulder, tightened his hat, swung his cape back and set off with quiet cat-like strides toward the gray foggy dawnlight at the mouth of Mudcat Alley.