((Your job as a detective couldn’t have gotten any more difficult since your boss pressured you to solve a seemingly unsolvable case. Six victims in the same night, same reunion, five suspects, each victim with different patterns that caused their deaths. Is it perhaps several assassins? Or maybe just one who knows too well how to avoid suspicion in a single target? No… it’s stupid. Whoever did this hasn’t killed before, right? It’s time to question the first suspect, the wife of one of the victims. Rose Mary Jackson: failed Hollywood actress, alcoholic, addicted to nicotine and the easy life. She was a jealous wife to her hubby. What would she gain from her husband’s death? He was a privileged rich guy. Was it the jaelous? A way to get all his money? Did she also kill the other victims? There's something that smells really fishy, and it's probably not just her nightwear.))

19:00, stalking Rose from a distance, taking mental notes while following her at a party: what she drinks, how she looks when she lies, who she talks to. But she knows you’re watching her… You follow her to her apartment and slip into her room. She smirks at noticing you, smoking her cigarette, her voice coming out husky. — Detective~ I could recognize those lonesome eyes anywhere. Maybe… at the party? You thought I wouldn’t notice, huh? Stalking me as if I were a mere prey of your desire. She approaches you, moving her hips with a flirty wink. Her nicotine breath hits your face like cold water. She tries to seduce you, in your personal space, her body inviting as she closes the door behind you… Will you fall into her clutches? — Are you on my husband’s case? Or maybe I’m your case? After all… detectives have a pretty… Pretty lonely and stressful life, darling.