"It all started about a month ago when the chap moved into the apartment next door.

He was a young guy fresh out of law school. He got his degree as a lawyer and started out as a defense attorney at the Franklins law firm, the most reputable law firm in London at the time.

Always wearing the best clothes, smoking the best cigars. There was no doubt that he came from the most wealthy family in the late 19th century, the Canterbury's.

'Righto matey, how's yee day goin',' He would say in his made up accent as he walked past every person in the building.

I most despised the man's lack of dignity as he strode about with his top hat cocked sideways and his shirt sloppily untucked.

It was a wonder to me that he was able to even get hired on with Franklins. In the end of the day, if you come from a reputable family I guess you can get hired anywhere.

The day he died or was murdered I should say, was similar for me to all the other days-"

"Hold on hold on, can you please get to the point Mr. Brunson." General Desmond growled into the smokey interrogation room.

 My eyes burned into the large muscular man with a shaved head and handlebar mustache. It made me uncomfortable to stare people down, but sometimes it was the only way to prove your point.

"I most certainly can not get to the point," The words came harshly out of my mouth, "If I am going to give you all the facts pointing to my innocence you must hear the story out from the start."

General Desmond was not pleased with my outburst, but he knew that I was not the sort of man to back down to a petty argument let alone one involving the fate of my life.

"As I was saying," My eyes caught his for the first time, "The day he died or was murdered I should say, was similar for me to all the other days since he moved in. For some reason, since his move into the apartment, I woke to a small amount of soot laying about in front of the fireplace. I assume that is due to the massive amount of thumping on the walls young Mr. Canterbury seemed to do.

On my way to use the latrine, I noticed a wet spot on the floor. The leak seemed to be coming from under the wall that Mr. canterbury and myself shared. I continued on to do my business in the latrine before returning to the place of concern.

I was most surprised when I found the floor wet with blood. I immediately yelled out the window for the nearest officer to respond.

Being a detective, I thought I may be able to persuade Mr. canterbury to allow me to have a look around his apartment. I assumed that he had gotten himself into a spot of trouble with one of the prostitutes he seemed to take a fancy with. Apparently, when you are that wealthy you don't worry about the fact that prostitutes are only there to steal everything you own.

I knocked several times, announcing that I was there to talk about a leak in the wall. When he didn't answer, I took it upon myself to pick the lock and make sure he was not injured.

Upon entering the room I found the gruesome scene. Mr. Canterbury was hanging by his feet from a hook on the ceiling. He was white as a midnight ghost as his blood had been drained.

I almost lost the contents of my stomach as I began to look the room over for evidence of what had happened. My hunt for clues was cut very short by the police agents entering the room and disturbing the crime scene. I was also very forcibly taken into custody at that time and here we sit," My admittedly long story came to a close.

"That is the whole story?" The general asked sounding frustrated.

"Yes that is the whole story, the important part is that it should line up with everything you have investigated thus far," came my most convincing voice, "So if you release me from custody we can work this case. I am your top private investigator after all."

The general was not happy at my suggestion of working the case. In fact, it seemed that he was contemplating letting me go at all.Without my detective skill, he may not solve this crime. Though, not as skilled in deductive reasoning as the fictional Sherlock Holmes, my skill was unmatched.

"OK, Mr. Brunson... I am certain you didn't kill the man," The general eyed me suspiciously, "But I do not think you are going to be able to work the case. You are simply too close to the victim, it would be a conflict of interest I fear.

I strode out of the police station without saying another word to the general. He would come to me when he ran into trouble cracking the case. In the meantime, the crime scene was in need of my keen eye for detail.

Mr. Canterbury is the most annoying man. Well, at least he was...until the knife made sure he was not talking ever again. The knife did the killing, no sense taking on guilt when it was the blade that killed the man.

The mess has been cleaned up, rather well. Still the nerves about having done the deed so close to Detective Brunson run high. The intent is to have him blamed for the murder. Thus far my spying on the man has proved rather useful. He makes a nasty habit out of entering homes without having obtained the proper documents. This made the task of placing suspicion on the man quite simple indeed.

No doubt he will not expect me to be the culprit. After all, he doesn't even know of my existence. Well, he never knows of the people he tracks down before they are in his sights. None the less, he will not be able to track me down. I am much too smart for the likes of him.

The man in my closet doesn't know it yet, but he is going to be the next body that Detective Brunson finds. Oh, the plan is brilliant, it is going to make his life so miserable for the Detective. The question remains, how to get the man into the detectives house without waking him. The man sleeps so lightly, it would only take a single miss-step to wake him.

That would come, maybe a dose of chloroform would keep the victim from causing a ruckus. There would be no struggle as the blade stole life from his body. There was no sense in stringing this victim up like the last. There is no doubt that the detective would find this body, it would be right next to his bed after all.

The only thing left to decided is when this most disgusting task would take place. The killing is such a terrible thing, my gut turns at the thought. But it must be done to teach that nasty detective a lesson. He thinks he is better than any detective to have ever lived. He doesn't think there is a crime that he can't solve. Well, it's time to prove him wrong.

Oh, yes there is still the matter of when to do this? Tonight, one body a day until the Detective admits he can not solve this case. That settles it, one a day. The wealth in my bank account will make the tasks slightly easier. No doubt the fool will try to move after a couple of deaths in his own apartment. It will be imperative to remain close to him thus moving will become part of my regimen also.

"Arrrggg, grrrr"

That dang victim, he sure does like to cause a commotion. Only an hour before he won't have to do that anymore. Maybe it would be best to knock him out with chloroform now.

"Shut up in there, you are going to cause suspicion. No need to thump around, here smell this... OUCH!!"

There is no mark from the bite, good thing. That would have caused a delay, wouldn't want to walk around with a bite mark. That could cause some suspicion.

The sweat and shakes are starting to come back again. This happened before the last kill too. The hope of it being only being during the first kill was obviously unfounded.

Taking the victim down two flights of stairs was not the best choice, but the elevator may have caused some suspicion. There is a chance of having been able to pass him off as a drunk friend.

Ah, at last, the door of the great detective. Maybe the better choice would be to kill next door again. Keep the crime scene exactly the same, always the same kill. No No, they would start watching it.

"mmmm....mmMMM!"

The victim has woken... the choice is clear. One more kill exactly like the last. The next one will be more carefully timed. One more dose of chloroform should do the trick.

Best keep the mouth gag in just to avoid those teeth.

"Shhhh, it will all be over soon...Just breath in the sweet smell and sleep forever."

There we go, no more struggle. Now to string him up like the last man, except... no rope. Well, this is a dilemma, but the body must be found. Next to the wall so that the blood seeps again, yes that will just have to do.

Dang knife....stop making my hand shake so violently. The cut will be so rough if I can not stop. Deep breath... one...two...three...

The knife has been cleaned and hidden back behind the hidden hole in the lath and plaster. The body left to be sure signs of the deed are found by the detective. There is no doubt that this has been perfectly executed. The kill was more difficult than the last...even if it is the knife doing the killing.

This feeling in my gut is most unwelcome. The guilt, this time, is great. Maybe just a small smell of chloroform will help ease my guilt...