Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCRMG3N68CXC8QHNNQ9NZ3R

Rain hammered the greenhouse glass. Inspector Vale hated wet mornings. The body lay among orchids. Her name was Margaret Ashby. Someone had arranged her hands. Palms up, fingers gently curled. A white bloom between them. Vale crouched beside the corpse. No blood stained the tiles. No bruises marked her throat. Only that flower, deliberately placed. Sergeant Pike coughed behind him. The gardener found her here. Doors were locked from inside. Vale studied the fogged windows. One pane showed smeared handprints. They faced the wrong way. Someone pressed out, not in. He stood, brushing wet knees. Wake the family, he said. Nobody sleeps through breaking glass. Pike hesitated at the door. The glass isn't broken, sir. Vale smiled without any warmth. Exactly, Vale said, walking out.