Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCR737H0PZ4HM38HR71C081

Rain hammered the greenhouse glass at seventeen minutes past midnight. Detective Nora Vance had not slept in thirty-one long hours. The body lay among the orchids, arms folded like prayer. The dead man was Gerald Ashgrove, host of tonight's party. No wound showed, no blood, no bruise, no clear cause. Someone had washed his hands and trimmed his fingernails carefully. Nora crouched, studying the pale skin beneath his wedding band. The ring was new, and it fit him too tightly. Behind her, the young constable coughed and apologized for something. "Nobody enters this room again until I say so, understood?" The constable nodded, though his eyes drifted toward the door. Outside, forty guests waited in a ballroom, still wearing masks. One of them had knelt here and prayed over him. Nora stood, brushed soil from her knees, and started counting.