Run: 2026-04-24-01KPZV1J8K09B2S5D1JCA5TC4N

Rain hammered the slate roof of Blackwood Manor as Detective Marlowe stepped from his car into the gathering October storm. The wrought iron gates had been left open, which the butler mentioned was strictly against the late master's orders. Inside, seven guests waited in the drawing room, each clutching a glass of brandy with hands that trembled noticeably. Lord Ashcroft lay sprawled across the Persian rug, a silver letter opener buried deep between his shoulder blades. The grandfather clock in the corner had stopped at precisely eleven seventeen, which everyone agreed was the moment of death. Marlowe removed his dripping coat and studied each face in turn, noting the subtle flickers of fear and calculation. Someone in this room had committed murder, and that someone was currently pretending to mourn alongside the other innocent guests. The French windows stood locked from the inside, the only key dangling from the victim's own waistcoat pocket chain. Marlowe smiled grimly to himself because impossible crimes were precisely the sort of puzzle he had traveled here to solve.