Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0GAB5G19K3SYVP5D04Z46J

The rain fell in silver sheets across the cobblestones of Ashgrove Lane, drumming steadily against the windows of number forty-seven. Detective Margaret Holloway arrived just past midnight, her long trench coat heavy with water and her patience thinner than usual. The front door stood slightly ajar, a thin ribbon of yellow light spilling onto the wet stone of the porch. Inside, the grand foyer smelled of old roses, expensive cigars, and something much darker that she recognized far too well. Sir Edmund Cavanaugh lay sprawled beneath the crystal chandelier, a silver letter opener buried deep within his embroidered silk waistcoat. Margaret knelt beside the body, gloved fingers hovering above the wound, reading the scene like a page of familiar text. Five guests remained trapped inside by the storm, and one of them, she knew already, had just committed cold murder.