Detective Sarah Chen stared at the lifeless body sprawled on the marble floor, blood seeping into the expensive Persian rug. The victim's emerald necklace sparkled under harsh police lights, creating tiny green reflections that danced across the white walls. A single shoe print in crimson led toward the study door, then disappeared completely, as if the killer had simply vanished. Mrs. Wellington's dinner party guests huddled in the adjacent room, their whispers and nervous glances betraying their collective unease and suspicion. Sarah noticed something peculiar about the victim's left hand: a crumpled note containing only a sequence of random numbers.