I was sitting in my high rise office in the Hoeschler building. My feet were on the desk, and as I admired the red tennis shoes that lay there in the b right glow from the window on the top floor- I guessed that I had it made! For how many detectives could say that their office was on the top floor of a high-rise office building in a metropolis? Not many, I thought, blowing smoke in satisfaction up towards my art deco ceiling. There was a knock at the door. Standing, I went to open my frosted glass oak door from the 1930’s, admiring the lettering upon it- Jess Thornton Detective Agency. The smoking revolver underneath always made me smile, and I hadn’t gotten any complaints about it, yet- but you never knew about people. The door swung wide, revealing a small lady, with graying hair and the sweetest little face I had ever seen. She looked like an aged Hummel! “Are you the detective?” she asked smiling widely. It almost seemed that she should be carrying a large shepherd