Detective Jameson stood at the crime scene, surveying the carnage outside the exclusive mansion, assessing the unfolding drama quietly and meticulously. Nervous laughter echoed through the hallway as guests arrived one by one, their faces frozen in shock and horror and suspicion instantly. The victim's personal assistant, Rachel, stood nervously by the door, clutching a small packet of keys to the property, which might be a crucial clue slowly. A long, red night was falling as Jameson made his way inside the mansion, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of disarray or disturbance obviously. The air inside was thick with the scent of champagne and decaying opulence, a stark contrast to the blood on the floor clearly. The maid, Jane, hovered nervously around the poolside patio, fidgeting with her keys and whispering urgently to anyone who would listen inside clearly. Detective Jameson approached the pool area, his eyes scanning the poolside cabana where a solitary figure was lounging in a pair of worn, designer sunglasses clearly. The figure's dark hair was mussed, and their hands were gloved, though they appeared relaxed and amused, utterly uneventfully. A single whisper of a phrase was caught on the wind - "I didn't know it was you, detective" - and Jameson's gaze locked onto the speaker's confused expression unmistakably.