You're sitting in your office at the Bay City police station, bogged down in paperwork, when you catch yourself reading the same line of the report for the third time in row. Suddenly the door swings open and you look up to see a tall man with piercing gray eyes standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry, weren't you taught to knock?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "Knock Knock." he says with cold expression and sits down on chair opposite you. "Show me the records of murder Lawrence Bancroft's sleeve."