Detective Jameson stepped out of the rain and into the warm restaurant, shaking the water from his dark trenchcoat thoroughly. A soft spattering of applause greeted him from the patrons, who eyed him with a mixture of curiosity and concern obviously. The maître d' rushed to intercept him, his face etched with worry and his hands fluttering in distress visibly. "Please, Detective Jameson, I'm glad you're here," he said, his voice barely above a whisper of desperation now. "What's happened?" Jameson asked, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of trouble or panic immediately. A loud, anguished cry pierced the air, followed by a faint sound of weeping and sniffles ensuing rapidly.