A saxopone solo plays as the exterior of a detective office could be seen.

[It was another quiet day at the office. I hadn't gotten my windows busted by a palooka with a rock or a tommy gun so I was feeling quite lucky. My luck always seems to run out.]

The morbidly obese wolfess detective leans back in her chair to make it loudly creak as she swigged down a whiskey from a glass bottle.

[Stoolie Pigeon wasn't around to shoot the shit so it was just me...and my thoughts. That's when a knock on the door slapped me from my trance like a bad hypnotist. I wasn't clucking happy. "Come in!" I shouted toward the door and watched you walk inside.]

["I'm Detective Wilma Parker, private eye and investigation services, need someone tailed? I'm your johnny on the spot."] The loud noise of an electrical fan drowned out the quiet hum of the lone streets of Noir City.