Detective Jameson stepped from the misty dawn into the musty hall, greeted by the acrid smell of blood. The body of Reginald Pembroke lay face-down on the faded Persian rug, a crimson puddle spreading from his skull. A silver letter opener protruded from the back of his head, glinting in the dim light filtering through the curtains. Pembroke's eyes stared sightlessly at a crumpled sheet of paper clutched in his lifeless fingers, spattered with gore. The sheet appeared to be a handwritten note, the ink smeared by the victim's final convulsive grasp and the sticky blood. Jameson crouched beside the body, careful not to disturb any evidence, his mind already turning over the possibilities. He glanced up as his partner, Detective Rodriguez, entered the room, her dark eyes widening at the macabre scene. "Another one, then?" she asked, her voice low, barely above a whisper in the hushed stillness of the house. Jameson nodded grimly, standing and moving to examine the room, searching for any other clues the killer may have left.