Run: 2026-03-25-01KMJ7QRFKY1DMYGNQ1TS62565

The clock struck midnight as rain tapped the windowpane softly. Detective Lane stepped into the foyer, hat dripping onto polished wood. A single lamp cast long shadows across the dusty, silent hall. The body lay sprawled near the grand piano, still elegant. No footprints marred the carpet between door and the victim's heels. Cold air whispered through a cracked French window left ajar. The victim’s monocle gleamed beside a half-empty glass of brandy. A torn letter peeked from his stiff, clenched right-hand fist. Outside, a crow shrieked once before vanishing into the storm. Everyone in Blackthorn Manor had reason to wish him dead.