Run: 2026-10-05-01M46B3BJFZACCFVFRMY22HMW9

At midnight, the storm extinguished every window in Blackthorn House, except the library, where someone had recently lit a candle. Inspector Mara Vale arrived eleven minutes later, carrying a soaked invitation and wearing the expression reserved for particularly unwelcome reunions. The butler admitted her without speaking, although his trembling hands suggested he had already exhausted every useful word that evening. Beyond him, six guests stood around Lord Blackthorn, whose body occupied the hearthrug with an almost theatrical disregard for dignity. His dinner jacket was immaculate, his throat was bruised, and a silver key protruded between his lips like a joke. Mara recognized the key immediately, but she kept her face still while the dead man's daughter began explaining the impossible. She had locked the library after dinner, she said, and nobody possessed another key, except her father now lying there. Under the candle, a sealed envelope bore Mara's name, written in the handwriting of the husband she had buried yesterday.