Run: 2026-10-08-01M4E0C8M5QA7483HGQJWV6S1F

The rain had been drumming against the windows of Blackwood Manor since dusk, and nobody inside had slept a wink. Inspector Margaret Hale arrived at half past one, her coat soaked and her patience worn thin by the long drive. Lord Edmund Ashworth sat slumped in his leather chair, a single crimson stain spreading steadily across his white linen shirt. The study door had been locked from inside, and the only key still hung on a chain around his neck. Constable Ross stood beside the cold fireplace, turning his hat nervously in his hands and carefully avoiding her unwavering gaze. Hale turned sharply toward Ross and said, "Nobody leaves until I have personally spoken with every soul under this roof." Across the hall, the Ashworth family had gathered in the library, whispering like nervous conspirators beneath a single dim lamp. On the desk beside the body rested a silver carriage clock, its hands stopped at precisely a quarter to midnight. Hale stepped carefully around the blood, noting the empty brandy glass, the smudged ink, and muddy footprints by the window. Tucked beneath the blotter lay an unfinished letter addressed to Inspector Hale herself, dated only three days before the murder. The first line read simply: "Margaret, if you are reading this, one of them has finally succeeded in killing me." Somewhere above, a door slammed shut, and Hale realized with a chill that the killer was still in the house.