Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKB441HDDP7QY1Q78DYJ3ZA

Rain needled the quiet harbor. The lighthouse blinked, then failed. Detective Mara Hart stepped off. Her coat drank the storm. The manor loomed above breakers. Windows watched like narrowed eyes. Inside, a clock stopped abruptly. Voices hushed to frightened whispers. The butler met her breathless. "This way," he finally said. The study smelled of gunpowder. Books lay strewn like casualties. A cigar smoldered, unattended, accusing. Blood threaded the Persian rug. The banker rested, eyes open. His cufflinks glinted like bait. Window latches held, paint cracking. A single footprint faced outward. The safe hung slightly ajar. No cash, only legal documents. A letterhead named Archer Shipping. The widow clutched her pearls. Rainwater jeweled her shaking hands. Nightly, he locked everything tight. Mara noted trembling, not tears. The maid lingered too near. Her shoes tracked sandy grit. "Beach gate broken," she murmured. Lightning mapped the widow's face. The fireplace ash held crescents. Fingers searched for pressed switches. A panel clicked, then yielded. Behind, a narrow passage breathed. Somewhere, a phone kept ringing. A voice rasped, "Check wrists." The gunshot masked strangled struggle.