Lightning flashed as Detective Mira stepped into the grand hall. Rain thundered down, setting a grim mood over Chelwood Manor. Lord Harrington lay sprawled at the foot of the marble staircase. His eyes, wide open, stared unseeing at the ornate ceiling. Around him, the scattered guests whispered, exchanging shocked and curious glances. Mira knew everyone in the room was a potential suspect. "Everyone, please remain here," she announced, authority resonating clearly. The butler nodded, nervously wringing his hands, obviously disturbed. "When did you last see Lord Harrington alive?" she asked. "Not since dinner, madam," he replied, avoiding her steady gaze. Mira noted his unease; it could mean nothing, or everything.