Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCPPP8SERCZ1RPZ71N4MXN3

Rain hammered the slate roof. Inspector Naila Voss stepped inside. The hallway smelled of copper. Her boots left wet prints. Someone had drawn the curtains. A grandfather clock had stopped. The hands rested at three. Dust coated every polished surface. Except one chair, wiped clean. She noted that small detail. The body lay face down. His arm reached toward something. Nothing sat within his grasp. A wine glass stood untouched. The second glass was missing. Naila counted the four exits. Three were locked from inside. The fourth opened to rain. Footsteps approached from the study. A young woman appeared, trembling. She claimed to have screamed. Nobody in the house heard. Naila studied her dry sleeves. Outside, the storm had raged. The woman had arrived recently. Her story already had holes. "He was my uncle," she whispered. Naila wrote the word "uncle." Then she underlined it twice.