A misty morning shrouded the quaint village as Detective Charlotte Beaufort arrived, gazing at the ancient manor atop a misty hill. An eerie silence enveloped the sleepy hamlet, broken only by her footsteps as she hurried towards the sprawling mansion's imposing front door. Rosewood Manor, a grandiose mansion of stone and mortar, loomed before her, its windows like vacant, watchful eyes. She rang the massive iron doorbell and waited, her intuition tingling with the promise of a grisly puzzle. The ornate brass doorknob yielded to her confident grip, opening as if welcoming her with a whispered invitation. Inside the foyer, a chilling draft set her hairs on end as a portrait's disapproving stare seemed to hang in the dim space. Up ahead, heavy curtains shuffled, betraying a life guarding the house's secrets. An austere butler greeted her, his eyes too sharp for mere hospitality. She introduced herself, pressed for information about the late Mr. Everton, owner, and alleged victim at this unsatisfying hour. 'A night of festivities ended tragically,' the butler's tight lipped smile spoke volumes. Sarah, the haughty heiress, had been sirens trying to lure him, it seemed. They retreated to the general area as he fetched his well-rehearsed tale. A drenched scarlet-stained letter, wife's vengeful will, detailed her intent hung solo illuminated by a dimly lit torch. Detective Beaufort's keen eyes deduced a discrepancy soon enough, her lips pursing as realization crept over her. A stray dog, once a pet per Sarah's bitter rantings, sniffed and chased something rustling, its tail betraying its zeal. A old, snow-covered shack nestled ominously behind the rambling mansion. A vehicle, marked and abandoned, committed to silence left no room for doubt or deceit. In the distance, crackling like an exposed wire, Sarah's uncivil daughter, Emily, screamed her frustration, her accelerated pulse revealing guilt through her breath. Once invited investigator, now painful intruder, Charlotte acknowledged her presence while skirting gossiping servants oblivious to the night’s unfolding tension.