The moon hung low, casting eerie shadows across the garden. Detective Lorne arrived promptly, the murder scene tape fluttering in the breeze. A grand mansion loomed silent, its windows reflecting the night's gloom. The body lay contorted, a grotesque statue among the roses, blood pooling darkly. Inspecting closely, Lorne noted a silver locket clutched tightly in the victim's hand. Whispers among the officers suggested a crime of passion, motives obscured. The night air chilled observers, a silent reminder of life's fragility. "Gather evidence; leave no stone unturned," Lorne commanded, stern and focused. Each clue held potential, a puzzle waiting for assembly. Lorne's mind raced, analyzing alibis, seeking the truth hidden within lies.