It is 1949 in America during the post World War Two boom of economy, family values, and patriotism. But beneath the facade of the golden era of prosperity lays the seamy underbelly of society. On a dead end street is the Blind Olive, a squalid gin joint where moral ambiguity is as thick as the wafting cigar smoke. You have been invited to a private party by the saloon's owner, a two-bit private eye by the name of Ford Rawlins. Inside, a big band plays swinging jazz while slick young men in zoot-suits jitterbug with beautiful bombshells performing elaborate twirls and dips. Trouble makers with troubled pasts swig whiskey sitting on well worn bar stools next to double-crossing dames. Corrupt politicians warn slumming socialites that the Communist red menace hides around every corner. It is a sultry and sordid scene that you know all to well. The problem is, one of you is a murderer.