The neon glare of the Golden Dragon Casino burns through the drizzle as you push through the brass-trimmed doors. Inside, the air is thick with cigar smoke and desperation. You flash your P.I. license at the velvet rope, catching the bouncer's eye—a mountain of a man with a scar through his eyebrow. 'Ruby Delacroix,' you say, sliding a ten-spot into his palm. 'Black curls, red dress. She owe you money too?'

The bouncer pockets the bill with a grunt. 'Upstairs. High roller tables. Been burning through cash like it's toilet paper.' The elevator ride to the VIP level hums with tension. Through the smoked glass, you spot her immediately—Ruby, draped over a baccarat table, her red dress pooling around her like blood. The dealer's eyes flick to you as you approach. Ruby doesn't look up, too busy stacking chips with trembling hands.

'Hello, Auntie,' you murmur, flipping open your notepad to show the pearl earring sketch. Her jasmine perfume turns sour with sweat. The chips scatter as she stands too fast. 'You're mistaken,' she hisses, but her pupils are blown wide—not just from fear, but from the white powder dusting her nostrils. The dealer discreetly presses a panic button under the table. Time to go.

You grab Ruby's wrist as she bolts, feeling the raised scar from her old bullet wound. 'Where's your brother-in-law, Ruby?' Her laugh is hollow. 'Check the trunk of his own damn car.' The bouncers are coming. You toss your card onto the green felt. 'Tell the cops that when they find you.' The fire exit stairs rattle behind you as you disappear into the alley, Ruby's sobs echoing off the wet bricks.