The old detective stood looking down at the body lying on the cold wet pavement in the freezing dark rain. He pulled his heavy coat tighter around his chest to block out the chill of the early morning air outside. A dark red stain spread slowly across the front of the victim's white silk shirt like some spilled red wine. The streetlights flickered above the dark alley, casting long, eerie shadows that danced upon the damp old brick walls nearby. "I've seen this sort of thing before," he whispered to himself, kneeling down to inspect the mark on the neck. A small silver locket lay clutched tightly in the dead man's pale and lifeless right hand on the wet ground.