Run: 2026-09-23-01M37HZJGBT9S1AF85WS56DTWN

Rain hammered the conservatory roof when Inspector Vale arrived late. Inside, the orchids leaned toward a corpse beneath glass panes. Sir Edmund's throat bore one narrow, astonishingly clean red wound. His wife stood nearby, clutching a dry green garden hose. She claimed the gardener had locked every door yesterday evening. But muddy footprints crossed the floor without approaching him once. Vale noticed one print stopped beside a shattered wall clock. Its hands pointed toward midnight, though dawn filled everything outside. From the rafters came a faint, uneven clicking sound above. The widow flinched before the inspector raised his head slowly. Something metallic swung overhead, catching the first pale morning light. It was a key, tied carefully to black silk thread. Behind him, the gardener whispered, “That key belongs upstairs, only.” Upstairs, behind locked doors, someone began screaming Sir Edmund's name.