The rain fell hard on the cobblestone street below them. Inspector Mara stood at the window, watching the shadows dance. A scream pierced the darkness of the old stone manor. She turned quickly, her hand reaching for her own pistol. The body lay crumpled at the base of the piano. The ivory keys were stained with such bright red blood. "Nobody leaves this room," she told the gathered guests tonight. Fear flickered in the eyes of the wealthy young widow. The butler stood frozen, holding a shattered crystal wine glass. The storm hid the gunshot from the sleeping villagers nearby.