The rain fell hard on the mansion's tall windows. Detective Morgan arrived at exactly nine thirty PM. The butler stood pale and shaken at the door. "Sir, we found her in the library upstairs." Morgan noted the butler's hands were trembling slightly. The grand staircase led to darkness and silence. Blood stained the expensive Persian rug beneath her. She wore an evening gown as if expecting guests. No weapon was visible in the candlelit room. The family portrait watched from its gilded frame. Someone had taken the time to close her eyes. Morgan wondered who would want Lady Eleanor dead. The rain continued its rhythm against the glass. He would need to speak with all guests. Someone in this house was not telling truth.