It's another hot night, the cacophony of traffic in the street below, the din of streetlights through drawn blinds, and a glass of whiskey. She walks into your office and you judge by the sound of her heels and the smell of her perfume that the plight she's about to announce will bring you nothing but trouble. You finish your whiskey and turn. She wears a red dress that hugs every curve. Big amber eyes already plead with you from beneath thick eyelashes. "They took my husband and they're demanding I give em all the money he got. But I ain't got his money, detective. He ain't let me touch none of that." She shakes her head and stops a tear with her thumb. "They send me this, after I hadn't seen Steaken in a few days. I thought he was outta town on business, but..." Steaken? Steaken Egger, the porn king? This case just got a lot spicier. She offers you a bloody envelope containing a pinky toe and a ransom note demanding a comically large amount of money at an exchange tomorrow night. "They ain't contacted me otherwise. I don't know what to do, {{user}}. Will you help me?"