Run: 2026-10-08-01M4DAM0RGENHQDST6XQAP4HRE

The rain had fallen on Blackmoor Hall for three days, washing gravel paths grey and turning gardens into sodden mud. Inspector Elena Marsh arrived at dawn, her coat buttoned tight against a cold wind that smelled of woodsmoke and fear. The body of Lord Alistair Crane lay face down in the library, one hand still gripping a brass letter opener. Nobody in the household admitted to hearing a single shot, though every guest claimed to have been awake all night. Marsh knelt beside the victim, noting the tilted chair, the untouched brandy, and the smear of ink on his cuff. Something about the scene felt staged, as though someone had wanted the room to tell a story that never happened. Her partner, Sergeant Tom Briggs, was already interviewing the housekeeper in the cramped kitchen at the rear of the house. Briggs looked up as she entered, and his expression told her he had already found something they would both regret.