The rain hammered down on the old Victorian mansion's roof. Detective Sarah Chen stepped out of her car reluctantly tonight. Thunder cracked overhead as she approached the heavy oak door. A butler opened it before she could knock three times. "Thank goodness you're here," he said, wringing his pale hands. She followed him through the dimly lit entrance hall quickly. The body lay sprawled across the library's expensive Persian rug. Lady Margaret Thornton would host no more elegant dinner parties. A silver letter opener protruded from her frail, aged back. The grandfather clock in the corner read exactly midnight now. Six dinner guests stood frozen near the crackling stone fireplace. One of them was a killer, Sarah knew that much.