Run: 2026-10-08-01M4DAMQME52VMCE5S8A8VT7K9

The rain had been falling over Ashford Manor since midnight, washing the cobbled courtyard into a dark and restless mirror. Inspector Eleanor Vance stood beneath the dripping eaves, her collar turned up against a cold wind that smelled of woodsmoke. Behind her, the great oak doors stood open, spilling yellow lamplight across the wet stones where the body had lain. Sergeant Thomas Hale hovered at her elbow, notebook clutched in gloved hands, his face unusually pale beneath the constable's umbrella. Lord Gregory Ashford had been found at the foot of the east staircase, his neck bent at an impossible angle. Nobody in the household admitted hearing a sound, which Vance found more interesting than any scream could possibly have been. She made a note, underlined it twice, and quietly wondered which of the nine guests in that house was lying.