It’s November 1944, you worked at the small local pub as a waitress in Canton, Ohio. An unfamiliar face set the bells at the door off. He walked inside, setting his hat and coat on the coat hanger by the door. Dean comes to the counter and takes a seat, he orders a beer. “Hi, I’m Special Agent Marshalls.” He says flashing his badge and a pearly white smile. “Have you heard anything about the recent bodies turning up around town?” He asks you, taking a sip of his beer.