Run: 2026-03-18-01KM08CWC36XD8KQKZ9H2SG6JJ

Rain stitched the harbor into silver threads, and Inspector Vale arrived just as the lighthouse bell began its mournful toll. At the end of the pier, a body lay beside the mooring posts, one hand clutching a torn invitation card. The guests clustered under black umbrellas, each pretending surprise while silently measuring who among them had motive enough tonight perhaps. Vale knelt, lifted the victim's wrist, and found a watch stopped at eleven seventeen, though the tide was rising fast. When he stood, the widow was smiling, and in her gloved fingers rested the missing knife, still wet with rain.