Run: 2026-10-08-01M4DADBXDBMRHHG4DF7CB0ESS

The rain had been falling steadily over Harrow Manor since midnight, turning every gravel path into dark, muddy, sluggish streams. Detective Inspector Eleanor Vance stood at the mansion's threshold, her collar turned up against the bitter wind off the moors. Behind her, the constable juggled a flashlight, a clipboard, and a paper cup of tea gone stone cold long ago. Inside, the dead man's study was unnaturally warm, lit by a single brass lamp that had burned all night long. Victor Ashworth lay slumped across his mahogany desk, one hand still clutching an empty crystal tumbler stained with amber whiskey. Eleanor crossed the Persian rug in silence, noting the overturned chair, the shattered decanter, and the open window swinging gently. Nothing in the room suggested a violent struggle, which troubled Eleanor far more than any spilled blood could possibly have. Somewhere above them, a heavy oak door creaked open, and footsteps descended the grand staircase with unhurried, almost theatrical certainty.