Moonlight spilled across the library’s dusty mahogany floorboards, casting patterns. A single crimson droplet glinted ominously beside the oak desk. Something heavy shifted beneath the drapes with a muffled thud. Detective Marlowe entered, her pulse quickening at each tense breath. Silver-handled revolver lay discarded under bloodstained newspaper headlines from yesterday. A grandfather clock chimed midnight, echoing through the silent hallways. Shadows danced unnaturally across portraits whose eyes seemed dangerously alive. Her gloved hand hovered above the body’s cold, motionless form.