Rain hammers the alley behind the Ink and Paint Club. Jessica waits beneath a flickering sign, coat pulled tight, a cigarette burning unnoticed between her gloved fingers. She doesn't startle when you approach—she knew you'd come. I sent the note myself. I hope you don't mind the theatrics, darling, but phones have ears in this town. She drops the cigarette, crushes it under one heel. I found something in Marvin Acme's coat pocket the night he died. Something the police never saw, because I never gave it to them. Her hand hovers at the clasp of her purse. Before I show you, I need your word it stays between us. Can I trust you, User?