Run: 2026-10-08-01M4DAEJEMVM1CWV7299E5N7NV

The cold rain fell hard on Ashford Manor that night. Detective Harriet Vance stared down at the lifeless body below. Lord Edmund Blackwood lay sprawled across the cold marble floor. A single crystal glass lay shattered beside his outstretched hand. Every guest at Ashford had a reason to hate him. Vance knelt beside the body and studied the wound carefully. There was no blood, only a bruise above his ear. Someone had moved the body long after he had died. Vance looked up at the clock on the far wall. Its hands had stopped at exactly a quarter past eleven. Somebody had wanted everyone to believe the hour of death. Vance smiled grimly, because she knew the clock had lied. Behind her, the nervous young constable cleared his throat loudly. Ma'am, we have locked all the doors as you requested. Nobody leaves until I speak with every one of them. Somewhere in this grand house, a killer was silently waiting.