The morning fog clung desperately to Willowbrook Manor's ancient stone walls, concealing secrets that would soon demand terrible answers from everyone. Detective Sarah Chen stepped carefully through the ornate iron gates, her polished boots crunching softly against the frost-covered gravel driveway below. Lord Pemberton's lifeless body lay sprawled across his mahogany desk, a crystal letter opener protruding grotesquely from his silk-shirted back. Blood had pooled beneath the victim's chest, staining important estate documents that were scattered carelessly across the expensive Persian carpet. The library's massive oak doors stood wide open, revealing overturned chairs and shattered crystal glasses that suggested a violent struggle. Three potential suspects waited nervously in the drawing room: his young wife, his bitter brother, and his recently dismissed secretary. Each claimed complete innocence while fidgeting anxiously with jewelry, avoiding direct eye contact, and offering contradictory alibis for yesterday evening. Sarah noticed the grandfather clock had stopped at precisely eleven forty-seven, its pendulum frozen like time itself during this investigation. The detective's keen eyes surveyed every detail methodically, knowing that one small clue would eventually unravel this carefully constructed web.