<div style="text-align: justify;">"Predicament, my ass! Two men have been murdered and you're the prime suspect. I think 'predicament' might be an understatement, love," Jonathan snapped, suddenly irritated at the woman. Was she really this clueless? It took him a moment to reach the conclusion that she might just be trying to be ladylike. He ran his hand through his messy, brown hair again. "Sorry," he mumbled before gesturing at the loveseat next to Joanna. The detective himself sank into a chair opposite of her. In the background, the clatters from the kitchen could still be heard. Jonathan flung the newspaper article down on the coffee table. Half of it was missing, but the meaning was clear enough. <span style="font-style: italic">Highly esteemed business man, Connor Lowe (53), was found dead in his apartment this morning. The police have no leads yet as to whom the killer might be, and urge the public to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity...</span><br/><br/>The article in itself wasn't terrible interesting. The picture, however, was. It was undeniably the same, rotund man lying dead in Joanna's bedroom. Someone had been there before them, and no matter which way you looked at it, Joanna and Jonathan definitely qualified as 'suspicious activity'. He glanced up just in time to see his aunt appear with a tray laden with tea and cookies. She put it down on the table next to the article.<br/><br/>"Is this what all the fuss is about, hon?" It might have been phrased as a question, but it was definitely a statement; one that spoke volumes about how many times Jonathan had waved murder mysteries around in the past three years. Anna looked somewhat sternly at Jonathan as she poured tea. She handed a steaming cup to Joanna. The blue edge was a little chipped. "Friend of yours, sweetheart?" Anna asked her in a gentle tone.</div>