It's March 7th, 1920 in Los Angeles.

It's a cool night in the city of the Angels.

A soft breeze sweeps between the buildings, causing the leaves on the trees that line the city's wide avenues to flutter and dance.

The experimental rumbling of an upright bass and the

toots of an accompanying trumpet leak out from the city's many speak-easies.

Aside from the music, the streets are quiet. Two men stride down the sidewalk. They're

dressed in smart suits and crisp white shirts.

Wide-brim fedores are perched on their heads.

One of them has a cigarette, clamped between his lips, the tip glowing like a stoplight.

They move with purpose and come to a stop on Broadway, outside of the Fifth Street Department Store.

The store is a Los Angeles institution.

The building is red brick and four stories tall.

The store's wares can be seen in the huge arched windows that overlook the street.

Items like bedding, curtains, and expensive wooden furniture. The man with the cigarette tosses it into the gutter.

The water extinguishes it and it dies with a quiet hiss.

The other man knocks on the door.

It takes a couple of minutes, but eventually the

night watchman opens up. One of the men fishes in his pocket and pulls out a private

investigator's license. Eager to find out how he can help, the night watchman invites the

detectives inside.

The two men from the street enter the store and they identify themselves further. They're from the Nick Harris Detective Agency, and they're here to arrest the night watchman.

Shock blooms on the accused's face.

...