The rain fell heavily outside the creaking old mansion, casting long shadows across the dimly lit entrance hall. Detective Sarah Morgan shivered as she stepped over the threshold, water dripping from her coat onto marble floors. A grandfather clock ticked ominously in the corner, its metallic rhythm counting down the seconds since the grisly discovery. The victim lay sprawled at the bottom of the grand staircase, eyes frozen open in an expression of terrible surprise. Lady Eleanor Blackwood's lifeless body wore an elegant evening gown, now stained dark crimson where the knife had penetrated. Uniformed officers moved carefully around the scene, photographing evidence and measuring blood spatter with practiced, solemn efficiency. "The housekeeper found her just after midnight," whispered Inspector Collins, his weathered face grave beneath the flickering chandelier. "Everyone present at the dinner party is waiting in the library, and not a single one has a solid alibi."