The heavy rain pounded against the glass of the ancient manor while the clock struck midnight in the cold, quiet hall. Lord Sterling lay motionless upon the Persian rug with a single crimson stain spreading slowly across his crisp white shirt. A silver dagger with an ornate handle remained buried deep within his chest, gleaming softly under the dim electric lights. The young maid dropped her silver tray onto the floor, shattering the silence with a loud crash of breaking china. Detective Vance stepped through the mahogany doors, pulling his trench coat tight against the chill that filled the large room. He scanned the trembling faces of the guests who were gathered near the fireplace, knowing one was a cold killer.