The body lay still, unseen behind the garden's hedges. Detective Lila Grey arrived, her keen gaze scanning the scene. Crimson roses, once vibrant, now dripped with darker stains. The air, heavy with the scent of death, hung still. She knelt beside the body, noting the pale, lifeless hand. Inspector O'Reilly joined her, his face a mask of concern. "What have we got?" he asked, breaking the silence. Lila's eyes narrowed, her mind racing with possibilities. "Murder, most foul," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Together, they surveyed the garden, a potential crime scene. Each shadow could harbor secrets, each statue might conceal a witness. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows. Lights from the manor glimmered, reflecting a night of investigation. Lila Greys detective instincts were never wrong, this she knew. The murderer had not expected such scrutiny. With methodical precision, she began her inquiry. The game was afoot; the truth would not elude her.