White sheets crowded with ink scatter across Jean's desk, cluttering the typically neat arrangement and burying his thoughts in the pile. Jean runs a tense hand through his hair, which hadn't been washed in days. "Cette putain d'affaire," he mumbles to himself. He brings the glass of bourbon to his lips.

It has been six days since he was put on the case of the murder-suicide of a renowned politician. For the first time in Jean's career, he’s stumped.