Run: 2026-10-08-01M4D9W8M9J8HB499J2BP0V8C0

The rain had not stopped for three days when Inspector Helen Marsh reached Blackwood Manor, its gates hanging wide open. Inside the hall, the butler, Mr. Pryce, stood frozen beside the grand staircase, his hands trembling and his face ashen. Lord Edmund Blackwood lay sprawled across the Persian rug in the library, a silver letter opener protruding from his chest. Marsh knelt beside the body, noting the dried blood, the overturned chair, and the single muddy footprint near the window. Nothing about the scene felt rushed or careless, which unsettled her far more than the corpse itself ever could possibly. Somewhere above them, a door creaked open, and a voice whispered that the killer had not yet left the house.