Detective Jameson stood at the edge of the pristine garden, surveying the scene with a discerning and practiced eye always. The sprawling Victorian mansion loomed behind him, its turrets and gargoyles reaching towards the grey and foreboding morning sky slowly. A uniformed officer, PC Thompson, approached him with a sombre expression and a notebook clutched tightly in his gloved hand already. The air was heavy with the scent of blooming flowers and the faint hint of something far more sinister and deadly. A small crowd of onlookers had gathered at the garden gate, their faces a mixture of curiosity and morbid fascination always. The sound of sirens echoed through the streets, a stark contrast to the peaceful atmosphere of the meticulously maintained garden. A fluttering bird took flight from the nearby hedge, its shrill cry piercing the tense and expectant atmosphere instantly quietly.