Run: 2026-04-24-01KPZV1Q9Q9SZQPA24B2B9ZAB0

Rain hammered against the bay windows of Blackwood Manor, drowning the distant church bells that tolled midnight across the moors. Inspector Harriet Cole stepped carefully over the threshold, her boots leaving wet prints on the polished oak entrance floor. The butler stood trembling beside an overturned candelabra, wax pooling like blood across the Persian rug beneath him. Seven guests huddled silently in the drawing room, their faces pale masks reflecting the dying embers of the stone fireplace. Lord Ashworth lay sprawled across his mahogany desk upstairs, a silver letter opener protruding from between his stiffened shoulder blades. Harriet examined the scene quietly, noting the open window, the scattered papers, and one peculiar detail nobody had mentioned yet. A single white rose rested carefully on the victim's chest, its thorns stripped clean and stem wrapped in black ribbon. She turned slowly toward the doorway where the guests had gathered, studying each trembling face with practiced, unflinching, deliberate attention. Someone inside this house had committed murder tonight, and every person present knew far more than they were currently willing to admit.