<span style="font-family: Courier New;"><span style="text-decoration: underline">Los Angeles, California, October 10, 1933 - 9:17 AM</span></span><br/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">Should he have offered her a cup of tea? She was clearly incredibly lost. Jonathan wondered how she had even found him. It was not as if his office was hidden down a narrow and dodgy alleyway where you would get shot if you walked down, but the dark wooden door that lead to the street was less than impressive, and the brass lettering on it was faded and grimy.<br/><br/>That the girl was lost was obvious. What was <span style="font-style: italic">not</span> obvious was how in the world she had gotten a gun. Jonathan's eyes widened slightly in surprise as it fell out of her purse along with a number of other paraphernalia. He would never have pegged her as the type to carry around a weapon, even if it was a small and feminine one.<br/><br/>"Hey now," he said, rushing up from his chair, almost panicked that she might leave already. "Of course I believe you! You don't look the type to just up and plug someone," the detective continued as he carefully made his way around the table and pulled out the wooden chair a tad more for her. He waved a hand at it once more. "Sit down, and please explain why you think you killed someone, Miss...?"<br/><br/>He returned to his seat, absentmindedly tying his tie. Out of reflex, he tried to smooth the permanently bristly hair above his left ear. Jonathan quietly gathered the contents of the purse, handing her her wallet and make-up. "Mind if I take these?" he asked, studying the receipt, which turned out to be from a high-end restaurant, and movie tickets. Both dinner and movie had been for two people. Why did she have these? Maybe she was a secretary and needed it for bookkeeping purposes. That did not explain the gun, though. Maybe she had just gone on an exceptionally bad date. A date that spent a lot of money on food, and a lot less money on entertainment. And framed people for murder.</div>