Detective Inspector Miles Corbin arrived at the desolate manor as the relentless autumn rain lashed against his worn trench coat. The great oak door creaked shut behind him, plunging the vast, empty entrance hall into an unnervingly profound silence. He followed the stoic butler through a long corridor of portraits, all towards the heavy mahogany doors of the library. Lord Harrington Ashworth was slumped sideways in his favourite high-backed leather chair, a man who had read his final chapter. An overturned crystal tumbler had soaked a dark, spreading stain of expensive brandy into the priceless, antique Persian rug. Yet, a neatly folded piece of expensive stationery was placed deliberately within the dead man’s cold, unmoving left hand.