The rain lashed down on the ancient manor house. Inside its grand hall, a single body lay still. Sir Reginald Blackwood, known for his vast wealth, deceased. His eyes stared blankly at the ornate gilded ceiling. A single drop of crimson marred the Persian rug. Detective Inspector Thorne entered, surveying the grim scene. He adjusted his spectacles, his gaze sharp and keen. Dust motes danced in the dimming afternoon light. A chilling silence settled over the mourning household. The game, as they say, had now officially begun.