In the flight, the Proffesor sat next to a very strange man with a onyx black bowler hat, and a tan moustache-beard combo. He eyed the proffesor very carefully, as if he wanted something from him. Snickering, a good hardy and dark evil laugh. Though, it was as loud as a mouse stirring during Christmas Eve's night.

The proffesor had stepped into the airport. He made a quick stop at a quaint coffee shop, and had a grande coffee, and a blueberry muffin.
He took a golden yellow cab, and he slept threw the whole ride, all the way to New Orleans.

He stayed at a hotel, where his reservation was paid by the man on the phone. The floors were pollished marble. The stairs were lined with pearls, diamonds, and gold. The pool was heated, and has 5 twisted water slides. And the outside of the hotel, there was jazz music, flooding each window and door, and it was so uplifting, even the proffesor had to dance.

In his hotel room, his room was on the top floor, and it was constructed to have the rich, mansion-like feel of a penthouse. On his silk-lined bed, there was a note. And it read...

"I have heard very well of you, proffesor. Hopefully, you can solve the very unorthadox myster of the death of my father. Meet me outside of your hotel at 9:00 AM,sharp, and do not be late."