Untitled(2) Detective, can we have a statement?". Asked a reporter as i put the jacket into the trunk of my car, suprising me i dropped the cigarette case on the floor. "Drop something Detective?" he said picking it of the floor, dusting it off and giving it a good look. "Give that here!" i said, as though it was mine, quickly putting it in my pocket. "You wanna' statement, sure. It's got cockroaches and smells but the beds are comfy, 2 stars!" i said mocking him. "Very funny Detective..." he said folding his arms. "The murder, can we have a statement about the murder, Detective...?". I looked him up and down, his creassed shirt with his folded up sleves, loose tie and stained hat. "Detective Jack Ceaser, no statements at this time except for its not a murder investigation and asuming is gonna' get you in trouble, boy!" I said walking around to the drivers side of my car. "Well then Detcective Ceaser, i guess theres no story here..." he said as i climbed in to my car. "...And i guess that cigarette case isn't evidence too, sir!" He added. I could already tell this guy was gonna be a little different to your usual reporter, he was hungry, smart and even more annoying. But this wasn't exactly a normal case either. I was driving across the bridge, sun rising above the river, thinking who the owner of the jacket and case could be. Maybe a customer, after all the smell of the cologne was still strong. It all seemed to nice to be anything or anyone else's I thought. But then why would they be in the bed of a cheap hotel, with a street corner broad and on this side if the river. The reporter, realising the case wasn't mine from the enitials and my reaction when he touched it, I knew i'd probably run into him again. "MOVE IT!" I looked around to see an angry Cab driver behind me, eyes like daggers and pushing his horn in like a mad man. I had been thinking and forgot about the traffic lights. Driving into downtown, I came to 5th avenue just as someone were opening the shutters, I pulled up outside and grabbed the jacket from my trunk. "Excuse me, I found a jacket with a cigarette case in the pocket, i was wondering if you could tell me to whom it belonged so i can return it?" I said to an old gentleman, wearing a suit that was probably more expensive than my car and his hair whiter than the ivory pin on his tie. "We are not open to the public for another 45 minitues, you can come back then" he said looking me up and down. "Let's call it an official enquiry" I said, flipping the badge out of my coat pocket. "The same goes for the Police" he said walking into the store and locking the door behind him. Eventually the time passed and i walked in the store. A bell rang as I entered and out he popped from somewhere out back. There was fabrics of the finest sorts on rolls that lined the walls, all kinds of colours and patterns that one could only imagine the kind of customers that came in here. I walked up to the counter and before i opend my mouth, he said "I would not remember who bought that jacket, it's popular fashion for a sports jacket." "I see, well do you keep an order book or a record of these things?" I asked. "Only for certain customers, but I would remeber those". I realised this old man didn't want me to be there, checking over my sholder every two seconds in case some VP or broadway star walked in. I went back outside and sat in my car thinking of what to do next, when none other than the Mayor walked in. Mayor Johnson was a very large man, more of a socialite than a politician. I wondered how many roles of fine fabrics would it take to make him a snazzy suit. He was always in the news and the media, allegations of crime and corruption. Nothing that a small time Detective like me from the wrong side of the river should concern about. I watched as the old mans face lighted up like a star on a chritmas tree, pleasantries and hand shaking, when he lead him off to measure for a suit out back. It was then I realised this was a perfect opportunity. I walked right up to the door and that bell, that i had forgotten about, rang out. I quickly ducked for cover behind a cabinet with fabrics laid over. The old man came shuffling out, I could see just over the edge as he looked arond the store, I ducked as he peered my way. I could hear him walking towards where I was hid, I started to think what kind of excuse I could use when just as I was almost in his view, a voice belted out from the back room of the store. "CORONA! I'm meeting my mistress for breakfast in 30 minutes, will you hurry up!" The old man went running outback exclaiming his appologys . I couldn't help but think what kind of woman would sleep with a ballon like him other than his wife, then I realised the storys about the Mayor were probably true. Behind the counter I found a large log book with appointments, orders and sales kept in it, I searched the pages and as I slid my finger down the names column, there he was. Thomas Silva, 1x Deep Blue Sports Jacket. Tommy Silva as he's more affectionately known was a club owner for the mob, back on my side of the river. I had many meetings with him in the past and knew that this made it difficult, he used to handle women, protection and prostitution in most of the mobs clubs. He was a made guy and I tried to stay away from the mob, as they had police cheifs and city politicians in their pocket. But it was my job and i needed a drink, so I thought my next move was to go find that gangster turned socialite at one of his clubs, so off i went, disabling the bell as i left.