The day was bright, the sun casting harsh shadows across the bustling Sunday market full of unsuspecting suburban weekend shoppers. Detective Lara Quentin observed from afar, her keen eyes scanning for anything unusual amid the spectrum of mundane activities and cheerful vendor stalls. Suddenly, a piercing scream shattered the calm, echoing through the immediate silence that fell over the crowd like a heavy, suffocating blanket. Heads turned toward the source—a small, cramped stall selling antique books, where a body lay sprawled among scattered pages. Lara pushed through the panicked mass of people, her mind racing to process the scene unfolding before her with practiced detachment. Each step closer revealed more: the victim, male, approximately fifty, dressed in a vintage brown tweed jacket, eyes wide in eternal shock. Lara knelt beside him, checking for any signs of life though knowing instinctively it was far too late.