Run: 2026-05-10-01KR8YSKEPVNCVSPN3AJCADJMX

Rain lashed against the heavy glass windows while the old grandfather clock struck midnight in the silent, dusty manor hall. Inspector Thorne stepped over the velvet rope and stared down at the pale man lying on the red Persian rug. A single gold button lay beside the victim's cold hand, glistening under the dim light of the flickering oil lamp. The widow sobbed softly into her lace handkerchief, though her dark eyes remained sharp and devoid of any real grief. Thorne knew that someone in this locked room was lying about where they had been during the winter storm's peak.