Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2E8AGAWV7Q8AVZF9PFYV7S

The rain fell in relentless sheets against the tall windows of the old manor house that evening. A single gunshot cracked through the storm’s roar, sharp and sudden as a snapped bone. Lady Margaret collapsed onto the Persian rug, her silk gown blooming with brilliant crimson roses. Every guest in the drawing room froze, their faces pale masks of disbelief and dawning horror. The detective, a quiet man with tired eyes, knelt beside her still and lifeless form. He noted the locked door, the open window, and the faint scent of jasmine in the air. No one could have entered or left that room without being seen by the entire party. Yet the silver candlestick on the mantel held a single, still-warm fingerprint that wasn’t hers.