Moonlight glistens off the dew-kissed grass of the sprawling Rosemont estate, a disguised cliffside in the early dawn hours of Monday. Bloodcurdling screams pierce the placid morning air, drawing the night watchman to the bedroom window of the sleeping quarters. Splattered crimson stains the pressed silk sheets where Lady Rosemont lies, her emerald eyes frozen in a permanent, horrified stare. The coronerpronounces her rule on me at the scene of the crime, a single word: murder.