Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1HXPW8ZXDVRAMSE8GSB9W5

Rain polished the manor windows while mourners gathered below, pretending grief, hiding calculations, and watching the grandfather clock refuse midnight. When Lady Haverford collapsed beside the champagne fountain, nobody screamed immediately; surprise lingered first, sharp as cut crystal. Inspector Vale arrived through the storm, noting muddy footprints, extinguished candles, and one silver cufflink glinting beneath velvet drapery. Upstairs, a locked music room concealed discordant violin notes, while downstairs every guest rehearsed alibis with suspiciously careful breathing. Vale studied their faces and saw something worse than panic: relief, quickly masked behind condolences, trembling hands, and lies.