Rain battered the old manor, drumming secrets on broken glass. A clock struck midnight as shadows danced across the walls. Detective Hale entered cautiously, boots echoing on the checkered floor. A blood-red rose lay wilted on the entryway’s marble tiles. The chandelier flickered, revealing nervous faces gathered in the parlor. Lightning flashed, illuminating a crimson stain beneath the grand piano. Lady Whitmore clutched a handkerchief, trembling with silent dread. Colonel Briggs stared silently, his gaze fixed on the corpse. No one dared speak, terror locked tightly behind their eyes. Detective Hale surveyed the room, piecing together the night’s puzzle.