The mansion stood eerily silent under the moon's pale glow. Detective Linton, with a notepad in hand, surveyed the scene meticulously. An ornate chandelier cast shadows across the ballroom's marble floor. In the center, a body lay still, eyes wide in perpetual surprise. A single gunshot wound marred the victim's pristine suit. Silk drapes fluttered gently in the midnight breeze. The air was thick with the scent of roses and regret. A clock on the mantelpiece chimed three solemnly. Guests whispered among themselves, each a potential suspect, while police officers cordoned off the area swiftly. "Find the weapon," Linton commanded, sensing the complexity of the case. Footprints in the garden led away from the French doors. The night was still young, and the truth remained hidden.