The professor lay quite dead. He was near the his prized orchids. A single red petal fell. It landed on his tweed coat. The room smelled of death. And also of sweet night jasmine. Detective Miles Corbin slowly entered. His gaze swept the opulent room. A grand piano stood open. Its keys gleamed under the light. He removed his dark fedora. Corbin sighed, a long, deep breath. This case felt very wrong. So many secrets here to find.