The autumn rain hammered against the windows of Blackstone Manor like an impatient visitor. Eleanor Blackstone stood in the grand foyer, her silver hair pinned back elegantly, surveying the collection of people who had arrived for the weekend. At eighty-four years old, she had invited her extended family and a few close friends for what she called "a proper celebration of life."

Eleanor was the matriarch of one of the oldest families in the county, and her mansion reflected centuries of accumulated wealth and tradition. Dark wooden beams crossed the high ceilings, and portraits of stern-faced ancestors watched from every wall.

"It's good to have everyone here," Eleanor said warmly to her nephew Marcus, who stood nearby holding a glass of cider. "Family should be together."

Marcus smiled, though his mind seemed elsewhere. He worked in the city now, in finance, and rarely made it back to the countryside. His sister Catherine had come too, along with her two teenage children, Emma and James.

The other guests included Eleanor's lawyer, Mr. Pemberton, a thin man with wire-rimmed glasses; her longtime friend Dorothy, who lived in the village; and Eleanor's personal physician, Dr. Harrison, who had been making house calls to Blackstone Manor for over thirty years.

As evening fell, Eleanor announced dinner would be served in the dining room. The long mahogany table gleamed under the light of the crystal chandelier. Eleanor sat at the head, with Marcus to her right and Catherine to her left. The conversation flowed easily at first, filled with stories and laughter.

But as the evening deepened, Eleanor seemed tired. She excused herself just before dessert was served.

"I'll retire early," she announced. "These old bones need their rest. I'll see you all at breakfast."

No one knew it would be the last time they would see Eleanor Blackstone alive.

The morning sun filtered through the heavy curtains of Blackstone Manor. Mrs. Hartley, the housekeeper who had worked for the family for forty years, arrived at Eleanor's suite at seven o'clock sharp with a breakfast tray.

She knocked softly. "Good morning, Miss Eleanor."

No answer.

Mrs. Hartley frowned and knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing. She used her master key and pushed open the heavy oak door.

The bedroom was dim. Eleanor lay in her four-poster bed, still wearing her nightgown. But something was terribly wrong. Her face was pale, and her eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling. A small glass sat on the nightstand, empty except for a faint residue.

Mrs. Hartley's scream brought everyone running.

Within minutes, the household was in chaos. Catherine held her mother's hand and wept. Marcus stood frozen in the doorway. The children were ushered away by Dorothy. Dr. Harrison examined Eleanor carefully, his expression growing more grave with each moment.

"She's been dead for several hours," he said quietly. "I'd estimate since sometime in the night."

"But what happened?" Marcus demanded. "Was it her heart?"

Dr. Harrison looked at the empty glass on the nightstand, then back at Eleanor's pale face. "I don't know," he said. "But I think we need to call the police. This doesn't look like a natural death to me."

Within an hour, the quiet countryside was disrupted by the arrival of police cars. Detective Inspector Sarah Chen stepped out of the lead vehicle, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of the manor. She was in her mid-fifties, with dark hair streaked with gray, and a reputation for solving difficult cases.

"Nobody leaves this house," she instructed her officers. "And nobody touches anything in Miss Blackstone's room. This is now a crime scene."

The weekend celebration had turned into something far darker. Eleanor Blackstone had been murdered, and everyone in the manor was now a suspect.

Detective Inspector Chen set up her temporary office in the manor's library. One by one, she interviewed each person who had been in the house the night before.

Marcus was first. He sat across from her, looking exhausted.

"When did you last see your mother?" Chen asked, her pen poised over her notebook.

"At dinner," Marcus said. "She seemed fine, just tired. She excused herself before dessert and went to bed."

"Did she seem worried about anything? Any conflicts with family members?"

Marcus hesitated. "Mother was always concerned about money, even though she had plenty. She'd been talking about updating her will. But that's not unusual for her."

Chen made a note. "And you were in your room all night?"

"Yes. I went up around nine o'clock and didn't come down again."

Catherine's interview was more emotional. She sat with tears streaming down her face.

"My mother was a wonderful woman," she said. "I can't imagine who would want to hurt her."

"Can you think of anyone who had a grudge against her?" Chen asked gently.

Catherine shook her head. "She could be strict, and she didn't approve of everyone's choices, but she was fair. She was generous to people she cared about."

"What about her will? Do you know who inherits?"

"The estate is supposed to be divided between Marcus and me," Catherine said. "But Mother had been making changes. I don't know exactly what she decided."

Mr. Pemberton, the lawyer, was next. He was nervous, fidgeting with his glasses.

"Miss Blackstone called me three days ago," he said. "She wanted to make changes to her will. She seemed... distressed about something. She asked me to come to the manor yesterday, but then she said she wanted to wait until after the weekend to discuss it."

"Did she tell you what she wanted to change?"

"No. She said she needed to think about it more carefully first."

Dr. Harrison sat calmly in the library chair.

"I examined the body," he said. "There was a faint smell of bitter almonds near the glass on her nightstand. Combined with her appearance, I suspect poison. I've sent the glass for analysis."

Chen leaned forward. "Poison? What kind?"

"If I had to guess, cyanide. But that's just preliminary. We'll need the lab results to be certain."

Dorothy, Eleanor's longtime friend, was visibly shaken.

"Eleanor was like a sister to me," she said, her voice wavering. "We'd known each other since we were girls. I can't believe she's gone."

"Did she mention anything unusual recently? Any worries or fears?"

Dorothy thought carefully. "She did say something odd last week. She said she'd discovered something about someone in her family. Something that disappointed her. But she wouldn't say what it was."

As the interviews continued, Detective Chen began to build a picture of a woman who had been planning to make significant changes to her life and her will. Someone in that house had decided Eleanor Blackstone couldn't be allowed to make those changes.

But who? And why?

By afternoon, Mr. Pemberton had retrieved Eleanor's current will from his office. Detective Chen sat with him and the family in the drawing room to read it.

"The current will," Pemberton began, adjusting his glasses, "dates from five years ago. It divides the estate equally between Marcus and Catherine. However, there are some specific bequests."

He read through the details. Dorothy received fifty thousand pounds and Eleanor's collection of antique jewelry. Dr. Harrison received twenty thousand pounds and a generous donation would be made in his name to the local hospital. Mrs. Hartley received a substantial pension and a cottage on the estate for life.

"Is there anything else?" Chen asked.

Pemberton hesitated. "There was a letter in the safe, sealed and addressed to me. Eleanor instructed me to open it if anything happened to her."

He produced an envelope, opened it carefully, and read the contents silently. His face grew pale.

"What does it say?" Chen demanded.

"It's... quite serious," Pemberton said slowly. "Eleanor wrote that she had discovered evidence of financial misconduct. She suspected someone in her family had been embezzling from the family trust for years."

The room erupted. Marcus jumped to his feet. "That's ridiculous! Who?"

"She doesn't say directly," Pemberton continued, "but she mentions that she's been reviewing financial records and found discrepancies. She planned to have a full audit conducted."

Catherine looked shocked. "Mother never mentioned this to me."

"According to the letter," Pemberton said, "she was still gathering evidence. She wanted to be absolutely certain before making any accusations."

Chen's mind was working rapidly. Here was motive. If someone had been stealing from the family trust and Eleanor had discovered it, they would have a powerful reason to silence her.

"I need those financial records," Chen said. "And I need to know who has access to the family accounts."

The financial records told an interesting story. Over the past seven years, approximately two hundred thousand pounds had been withdrawn from the family trust in small increments. The withdrawals were carefully disguised among legitimate expenses, but when examined closely, they didn't match any documented payments.

Chen brought in a financial analyst from the police department. Together, they traced the money. It had been moved through several accounts before disappearing into what appeared to be investment accounts.

"Someone knew exactly how to hide this," the analyst said. "They knew the system well enough to make it look legitimate at first glance."

That narrowed the suspects. It had to be someone familiar with the family's financial arrangements. That meant Marcus, who worked in finance, or possibly Mr. Pemberton, who had access to all the accounts as Eleanor's lawyer.

But there was another possibility. Catherine's husband, Richard, had died five years ago. Before his death, he had been involved in managing some of the family investments. Could the theft have started before his death and continued afterward?

Chen decided to dig deeper into Richard's background. She called Catherine into the library.

"I need to ask you about your husband," Chen said carefully. "About his work with the family finances."

Catherine's face tightened. "Richard passed away five years ago. He had a heart attack."

"I know. I'm sorry. But before he died, he was involved with the family trust, correct?"

"Yes, he helped Mother manage some investments. But he was honest. He would never have stolen from her."

"I'm not suggesting he did," Chen said gently. "But I need to understand the financial arrangements. Was there any conflict between Richard and your mother about money?"

Catherine hesitated. "There was... tension. Richard wanted to make some aggressive investments. Mother preferred to be more conservative. They argued about it a few times, but nothing serious."

Chen made notes. The timeline was interesting. The thefts had begun around the time Richard was most involved with the finances. But he'd been dead for five years. Unless someone else had continued what he'd started.

Meanwhile, Marcus was being questioned more thoroughly about his own financial situation.

"I know you've had some business setbacks recently," Chen said, reviewing information from her investigators. "Your company has been struggling."

Marcus's jaw tightened. "We've had some challenges, yes. But nothing that would make me desperate."

"Yet you borrowed fifty thousand pounds from your mother six months ago."

"That's not unusual. I always pay her back."

"Did you? The records show the loan hasn't been repaid."

Marcus stood up. "I'm not going to sit here and be accused of theft. My mother and I had a good relationship. I would never steal from her."

But Chen noticed he didn't explain where the money had gone or why he hadn't repaid the loan.

The lab results came back. The glass found on Eleanor's nightstand contained traces of cyanide. It had been dissolved in what appeared to be warm milk, Eleanor's bedtime drink of choice.

"So someone poisoned her milk," Chen said to her team. "The question is, when and how?"

She reviewed the timeline of the evening. Eleanor had eaten dinner with everyone, excused herself before dessert, and gone upstairs around eight-thirty. She'd been found dead at seven o'clock the next morning.

"The poison would have taken effect fairly quickly," the medical examiner said. "Probably within thirty minutes to an hour. So she likely drank the poisoned milk sometime between eight-thirty and nine-thirty."

That meant the murder had occurred while everyone was still awake and moving about the house. The killer would have needed to:

1. Prepare the poisoned milk
2. Get it to Eleanor's room
3. Make sure she drank it

"Who brought her milk to her room?" Chen asked Mrs. Hartley.

"She usually prepared it herself," the housekeeper said. "She had a small electric kettle in her sitting room. She'd heat milk and add honey and cinnamon. It was her nightly ritual."

"Did anyone see her prepare it that night?"

Mrs. Hartley shook her head. "I was in the kitchen. I didn't see her come down for milk."

"Could someone have poisoned the milk before she prepared it? Was there milk already in her room?"

"There might have been. She often kept a bottle of milk in her small refrigerator."

This changed things. The killer didn't necessarily need to bring the poisoned milk to Eleanor. They could have poisoned it earlier in the day, knowing Eleanor would use it for her bedtime drink.

That meant almost anyone in the house could have done it.

Chen decided to examine Eleanor's sitting room more carefully. Perhaps there would be clues about who had access to it.

Eleanor's sitting room was a comfortable space filled with books, a comfortable armchair, and a small kitchenette. A bottle of milk sat in the small refrigerator, sealed and dated from the morning of the murder.

"This milk is still here," Chen said. "It wasn't used. That means Eleanor must have gone downstairs to get fresh milk, or there was another bottle."

Mrs. Hartley was called in. "We always kept fresh milk in Miss Eleanor's refrigerator," she said. "I would refill it each morning. But sometimes she'd go downstairs to the kitchen if she wanted something else."

"Who had access to this room?" Chen asked.

"Well, Miss Eleanor, of course. And Mrs. Hartley, to clean and bring fresh supplies. But the family members would pop in to visit her. Marcus has been in here. Catherine too. The children, Emma and James, would sometimes sit with their grandmother."

This was frustrating. Too many people had access.

But then Chen noticed something. On Eleanor's desk, there was a leather journal. She carefully opened it, using gloves to avoid contaminating any evidence.

The journal was Eleanor's personal diary. As Chen read through the entries from the past few weeks, a clearer picture emerged.

Eleanor had been suspicious of someone for months. She'd written cryptic notes about "discovering the truth" and "needing to be careful." In one entry from two weeks ago, she'd written: "I know what he's been doing. I can hardly believe it. I need to decide what to do."

In another entry from just three days ago: "I've made my decision. I will confront him after the weekend. I can't let this continue."

But Eleanor hadn't said who "he" was.

However, there was one more clue. In the margin of an entry from the day before the murder, Eleanor had written a single name: "Richard?"

Richard. Catherine's dead husband.

Chen's mind raced. Eleanor had suspected Richard of something. But Richard had been dead for five years. What could Eleanor have discovered about him that would be relevant now?

Unless... the embezzlement had continued after Richard's death. Unless someone else had taken over what Richard had started.

Chen called Marcus back in for another interview.

"I've been reviewing your financial situation more carefully," she said. "Your company is in serious trouble, isn't it?"

Marcus didn't deny it this time. "We've had some setbacks. The market has been difficult."

"Difficult enough that you needed to borrow money from your mother?"

"Yes."

"And difficult enough that you couldn't pay it back?"

Marcus's face hardened. "I would have paid it back. I just needed time."

"Your mother was planning to have a full audit of the family finances conducted. An audit that might have revealed where that money went."

"I didn't steal from her," Marcus said firmly. "The loan was legitimate. I asked for it, and she gave it to it. That's not theft."

"But where did the money go, Marcus? Your company's records don't show any injection of capital."

Marcus was silent for a long moment. Then he said, "I made some personal investments. I was trying to build my own portfolio."

"With your mother's money?"

"I fully intended to repay her."

Chen studied him. He was lying about something, but was it about the embezzlement or just about the misuse of the loan?

She decided to shift tactics. "Tell me about your relationship with your brother-in-law, Richard."

Marcus looked surprised. "Richard? That was years ago. He was a good man. Why?"

"Your mother suspected Richard of embezzling from the family trust. Did you know that?"

"No. That's... that's surprising. Richard was honest."

"Are you sure? The embezzlement started around the time he was managing the finances."

Marcus shook his head. "I don't know anything about that."

But Chen noticed he looked worried. She was beginning to think Marcus knew more than he was saying.

She interviewed Catherine again, this time asking specifically about Richard's finances.

Catherine became defensive. "My husband was not a thief. Mother never accused him of anything like that."

"Your mother suspected him. She wrote his name in her diary with a question mark."

Catherine's face went pale. "She... she never said anything to me."

"Why do you think she would have suspected Richard?"

Catherine was quiet for a long time. Finally, she said, "Richard had some money problems. Before he died. He'd made some bad investments and lost a lot of money. He was stressed about it. But he would never have stolen from Mother."

"How much money did he lose?"

"About a hundred thousand pounds."

Chen's pulse quickened. That was very close to the amount that had been embezzled.

"Did your mother know about these losses?"

"I... I'm not sure. Richard didn't want anyone to know. He was embarrassed."

"Catherine, did Richard ever ask your mother for money to cover his losses?"

Catherine looked away. "Yes. Once. Mother refused. She said he had to learn to be responsible with money."

There it was. Richard had financial problems, Eleanor had refused to help, and then money started disappearing from the family trust. It painted a clear picture.

But Richard was dead. So if he had been embezzling, who was continuing the theft?

Chen decided to dig deeper into Richard's death. It had been ruled a natural death - a heart attack at age fifty-two. But now she wanted to know more.

She obtained Richard's autopsy report from five years ago. The medical examiner at the time had found no signs of foul play. Richard had a history of high blood pressure and had suffered a massive heart attack.

But something bothered Chen. She called the medical examiner who had performed the autopsy.

"Would you have tested for poison in Richard's case?" she asked.

"Not unless there was reason to suspect it," the examiner said. "The evidence of a heart attack was clear."

"What if someone had given him something to trigger the heart attack?"

There was a pause. "That's... possible, but unlikely. And five years later, there wouldn't be much evidence left."

Chen thanked him and hung up. She was probably chasing shadows. Richard's death was almost certainly natural.

But the timing was interesting. Richard dies five years ago. Shortly after, the embezzlement continues, but now it's being done by someone else. Someone who knows the family finances well enough to hide the theft.

She looked at the list of people who had access to the family accounts:

1. Marcus- works in finance knows how to hide money
2. Catherine- has access to family documents
3. Mr. Pemberton- the lawyer has complete access
4. Mrs. Hartley- manages household accounts

Chen decided to investigate each person's finances more thoroughly.

Mr. Pemberton's finances were clean. He lived a modest lifestyle and had no unexplained expenses or income.

Mrs. Hartley was also clean. She had modest savings and lived within her means.

But Catherine had something interesting. She had been making regular payments to an account in the Cayman Islands. When Chen investigated further, she discovered the account was registered under a false name.

Chen brought Catherine in for another interview.

"I need to ask you about these payments," Chen said, showing her the bank records.

Catherine's face went white. "Where did you get those?"

"They're part of the investigation into your mother's murder. Catherine, where is this money going?"

Catherine looked like she might faint. "I... I can't tell you."

"You have to. This is a murder investigation."

Catherine put her head in her hands. "It's not what you think. I'm not embezzling."

"Then what are you doing?"

"I'm... I'm paying for something. Someone. But I promised not to tell anyone."

"Catherine, your mother has been murdered. Whatever you're hiding, it's better to tell me now."

Catherine took a deep breath. "It's Emma. Our daughter. She has a medical condition. It's rare and very expensive to treat. The NHS wouldn't cover it, so we had to go private. The payments are to a private clinic in the Cayman Islands where they're doing experimental treatment."

Chen felt a jolt of surprise. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Because Emma didn't want people to know. She's a teenager. She was embarrassed about her condition. Richard left us some money when he died, but it wasn't enough. I've been using my own savings, and yes, I borrowed some money from Mother. She knew about Emma's treatment. She approved of it."

"Did your mother know you were making these payments?"

"Yes. She helped me with some of the money. She understood how important it was."

This changed things. Catherine wasn't embezzling. She was trying to save her daughter's life.

But it also meant Chen was back to square one. If Catherine wasn't the thief, then who was?

Chen sat in the library, frustrated. She had suspects with motive, but no clear evidence of who had poisoned Eleanor.

Then Mrs. Hartley asked to speak with her privately.

The housekeeper sat across from Chen, her hands trembling.

"I need to tell you something," Mrs. Hartley said. "Something I should have said earlier."

"What is it?" Chen asked gently.

"The milk. I know how the poison got into the milk."

Chen leaned forward. "Tell me."

"I prepared Miss Eleanor's milk that evening. I heated it in the kitchen and brought it to her sitting room around eight o'clock. I left the bottle in her refrigerator, as I always do."

"Did you see anyone near the kitchen while you were preparing it?"

"No. But when I came back downstairs later, I noticed something odd. One of the windows in the scullery was open. It's usually locked."

"Who has access to that window?"

"Anyone could get through it from outside. It opens onto the garden."

This was new information. The poison might not have been administered by someone inside the house. It could have been someone from outside.

But who? And how would they know exactly when Eleanor would use the milk?

"Is there anything else?" Chen asked.

Mrs. Hartley hesitated. "There's something else I should tell you. About Mr. Marcus."

"What about him?"

"The day before the murder, I saw him in Miss Eleanor's sitting room. He was looking through her desk. When he heard me coming, he quickly closed the drawer and left. I thought it was odd at the time, but I didn't want to make trouble."

Chen's mind raced. Marcus had been searching Eleanor's desk. Was he looking for the diary? Was he looking for evidence of the embezzlement?

She brought Marcus back in for another interview.

"I know you were in your mother's sitting room the day before she died," Chen said. "What were you looking for?"

Marcus's face flushed. "I... I was looking for something personal."

"What?"

"A letter. From my father. I wanted to read it before Mother's will was read. I thought it might be important."

"Did you find it?"

"No."

Chen studied him. "Marcus, I think you're lying to me. I think you were looking for evidence of the embezzlement. I think you knew your mother was planning an audit and you wanted to find proof before she could accuse you."

Marcus stood up. "This is ridiculous. I want a lawyer."

"You're not under arrest. But if you don't cooperate, I'll have to assume you have something to hide."

Marcus sat back down, defeated. "All right. Yes, I was looking for financial records. But not because I embezzled. Because I wanted to know if my father had."

Chen blinked. "Your father?"

"My father died when I was young. But I've always suspected he wasn't entirely honest in his business dealings. I thought Mother might have discovered something about him, and I wanted to know what."

This was a new angle. "Did your mother ever mention your father's finances to you?"

"No. But I found some old documents once, years ago. They suggested he might have been involved in some questionable dealings. I was worried Mother had found out something about him, and I wanted to know what she knew."

Chen wasn't sure if she believed him, but it was plausible.

She was running out of leads. The poison had been in Eleanor's milk. Multiple people had access to the milk. The window to the scullery had been left open, suggesting someone from outside might have been involved.

But who?

Chen decided to expand her investigation beyond the manor. She interviewed people in the village who might have information.

Dorothy, Eleanor's friend, mentioned something interesting.

"Eleanor had been worried about someone," Dorothy said. "She didn't tell me who, but she said she'd seen something that troubled her. Something in the village."

"What kind of something?" Chen asked.

"She wouldn't say. But she was very upset about it."

Chen began asking questions around the village. Slowly, a picture emerged. There was a young man named Thomas, who lived in the village. He was in his late twenties and had a troubled past. He'd been arrested for petty theft a few years ago.

More interestingly, Thomas had been seen near Blackstone Manor several times in the weeks before Eleanor's death.

Chen brought Thomas in for questioning.

Thomas was nervous, but he cooperated. "I wasn't doing anything wrong," he said. "I was just... looking for work."

"At Blackstone Manor?"

"Mrs. Hartley mentioned they might need help with some repairs. I wanted to ask about it."

"Did you speak with anyone at the manor?"

"Just Mrs. Hartley. She said to come back in a few weeks."

Chen wasn't sure she believed him. "Tell me about your relationship with the Blackstone family."

Thomas hesitated. "I... I don't have a relationship with them."

"You've never spoken with Eleanor Blackstone?"

"No."

"Never been inside the manor?"

"No."

But Chen's investigators had found evidence that someone had been in the manor's scullery. There were muddy footprints on the floor near the window.

They were able to get a shoe print from Thomas. It didn't match the prints in the scullery.

So Thomas wasn't the one who'd come through the window.

Chen was getting frustrated. She had a crime, she had motive, but she didn't have a clear suspect.

Chen decided to reread Eleanor's diary more carefully. Perhaps there was something she'd missed.

As she went through the entries chronologically, a pattern emerged. Eleanor had become increasingly concerned about something starting about two months before her death.

The entries became more cryptic and worried:

"I saw something today that I wish I hadn't. I need to think about what to do."

"I've confirmed my suspicions. It's worse than I thought."

"I don't know if I should tell anyone. It will cause so much pain."

"I've decided. I must do what's right, no matter the consequences."

Then, in the final entry, dated the day of her death:

"Tonight I will tell him what I know. I hope he'll listen to reason. But if he doesn't, I'll have no choice but to go to the authorities. I'm frightened, but I know this is the right thing to do."

So Eleanor had planned to confront someone that very night. Someone she knew well enough to invite to her sitting room. Someone who had access to her milk.

But who?

Chen looked at the guest list again. The people in the house that night were:

• Marcus
• Cathrine
• Emma and James (the teenagers)
• Mr. Pemberton
• Dorothy
• Dr. Harrison
• Mrs. Hartley

And Eleanor had planned to confront one of them.

Chen decided to focus on the teenagers. Emma and James had been largely overlooked because of their age. But they were old enough to understand complex situations.

She interviewed Emma first. The young woman was pale and nervous.

"Did your grandmother seem upset the day she died?" Chen asked.

"She seemed... distracted," Emma said. "She kept looking at people like she was trying to decide something."

"Did she say anything unusual to you?"

Emma hesitated. "She asked me about my medical treatment. She wanted to know if I was getting better. I told her yes, the new treatment is helping."

"Did she ask you anything else?"

"She asked me if I was happy. If I was keeping secrets from my family."

Chen's ears perked up. "Why would she ask that?"

"I don't know. I thought it was a strange question."

Chen interviewed James next. He was quieter than his sister, more reserved.

"Your grandmother asked you some questions too, didn't she?" Chen asked.

James looked surprised. "How did you know?"

"What did she ask you?"

"She asked me about my friends. About who I spent time with. She seemed very interested in whether I knew anyone from the village."

"Did she say why?"

"No. But she looked worried."

Chen's mind was working. Eleanor had been asking the teenagers questions. Why? What was she looking for?

Chen decided to investigate James's friendships more thoroughly. She spoke with people at his school and in the village.

What she discovered was interesting. James had been spending time with a boy named Peter, whose father owned a farm near the manor. Peter was a year older than James and had a reputation for getting into trouble.

More importantly, Peter's father, Mr. Ashton, had a history of financial problems. He'd had disputes with Eleanor over land rights and boundary issues.

Chen brought James in for another interview.

"Tell me about your friend Peter," she said.

James looked uncomfortable. "He's just a friend."

"You've been spending a lot of time with him lately?"

"Some."

"Does he ever ask you questions about your grandmother? About the manor?"

James was quiet. Then he said, "He asked me about the layout of the house once. And about when people usually go to bed."

Chen's pulse quickened. "Why would he ask that?"

"I don't know. I thought he was just curious."

"James, did you tell anyone about these conversations?"

"I mentioned it to my grandmother. I thought it was weird that he was asking."

That explained it. Eleanor had become suspicious when James mentioned Peter's questions. She'd realized that someone might be planning to break into the manor.

But had Eleanor realized that the break-in might be connected to her own death?

Chen brought Peter in for questioning. At first, he denied everything. But when Chen presented him with evidence that he'd been asking questions about the manor, he broke down.

"My father sent me," Peter admitted. "He was angry at Mrs. Blackstone. She wouldn't sell him some land he wanted. He thought if he could find something to blackmail her with, he could force her to sell."

"Did your father ever go to the manor himself?"

Peter hesitated. "Once. He said he wanted to look around, to see if he could find anything he could use against her."

"When was this?"

"A few days before she died."

Chen felt a chill run down her spine. Mr. Ashton had been at the manor. And the scullery window had been left open.

Chen brought Mr. Ashton in for questioning. He was a large man in his sixties, with a weathered face and angry eyes.

"I didn't kill anyone," he said immediately. "Yes, I went to the manor. Yes, I wanted to find something to use against Eleanor Blackstone. But I didn't poison her."

"What did you do when you were at the manor?" Chen asked.

"I went around the outside. I looked in windows. I saw her sitting in her study, reading. I thought about going in, confronting her about the land. But I lost my nerve."

"Did you open the scullery window?"

Ashton hesitated. "I... I tried to open it. I thought I might be able to get inside, look around. But I couldn't get it open. I left."

"What time was this?"

"Late afternoon. Around four o'clock."

Chen checked the timeline. The milk had been prepared around eight o'clock. If Ashton had tried to open the window at four, he couldn't have been the one who poisoned the milk.

But someone had opened that window. Someone had made sure it was accessible.

Unless... unless the window had been opened from inside.

Chen suddenly understood. The killer wasn't someone who came through the window. The killer was someone inside the house who had opened the window to make it look like an outsider was involved.

The killer was trying to frame someone from outside.

Chen sat back and thought about what she knew:

1. Eleanor had discovered someone was embezzling
2. Eleanor had planned to confront someone that night
3. Eleanor had been asking the teenagers questions about Peter and the village
4. Someone had opened the scullery window to make it look like an outsider was involved
5. The poison had been in the milk that Eleanor drank
   

Who had the knowledge to poison the milk? Who had the opportunity? Who had the motive?

Chen realized she'd been looking at this wrong. The embezzlement might not be the motive. Eleanor's diary entry said she was going to confront someone about something she'd discovered. But what if it wasn't about money?

What if it was about something else entirely?

She reread the diary entries, looking for clues about what Eleanor had actually discovered.

And then she found it. In an entry from three weeks before the death, Eleanor had written:

"I saw them together. I couldn't believe it at first. But now I understand. This has been going on for a long time. I have to decide what to do about it."

Eleanor had seen someone together with someone else. Someone unexpected.

Chen thought about the people in the house. Who would Eleanor be shocked to see together?

She looked at the guest list again, and suddenly it clicked.

She brought Mr. Pemberton back in for questioning.

"I need to ask you about your relationship with Mrs. Hartley," Chen said.

Pemberton looked shocked. "What? There is no relationship."

"Are you sure? Because I've been investigating, and I found evidence that you've been visiting Mrs. Hartley's cottage. Late at night."

Pemberton's face went red. "That's... that's personal."

"How long has this been going on?"

"For about six months. But we've been very discreet. Eleanor didn't know."

"Eleanor found out, didn't she? That's what she discovered."

Pemberton didn't answer.

"Why would Eleanor be upset about you and Mrs. Hartley?" Chen asked.

"Because..." Pemberton paused. "Because Mrs. Hartley was married to Eleanor's brother. He died thirty years ago. Eleanor always felt very protective of Mrs. Hartley. She thought of her as family. She might have thought it was inappropriate for me to pursue a relationship with her."

"Or," Chen said slowly, "Eleanor might have thought you were using Mrs. Hartley to get close to the family finances."

Pemberton's eyes widened. "That's not true!"

"Isn't it? You have access to all the family accounts. You've been close to Mrs. Hartley. You could have used that relationship to get information about the family's financial situation."

"I didn't. I swear I didn't."

But Chen could see the fear in his eyes. She was getting close to something.

Chen decided to investigate Mr. Pemberton's finances more thoroughly. She got a warrant to examine his bank accounts.

What she found was shocking. Pemberton had been making large deposits into his account over the past year. Deposits that couldn't be explained by his legal practice.

When confronted with this evidence, Pemberton finally broke down.

"I did it," he said. "I've been taking money from the trust. But it wasn't greed. I was helping Mrs. Hartley."

"Helping her how?" Chen asked.

"She had debts. Her late husband left her with medical bills and other obligations. She was struggling. I wanted to help her, so I took money from the trust and gave it to her."

"That's embezzlement."

"I know. But I was going to pay it back. I had an investment opportunity that I thought would make a lot of money. I was going to use the profits to repay the trust."

"Did Eleanor know about this?"

Pemberton nodded miserably. "She found out. She came to my office last week and confronted me. She had discovered the discrepancies in the accounts. She said she was going to have an audit conducted. She said she had to report it to the authorities."

"What did you say?"

"I begged her not to. I explained about Mrs. Hartley. I said I would repay everything. But Eleanor was adamant. She said the law was the law, and she couldn't overlook it, no matter the reason."

Chen leaned forward. "Did Eleanor plan to confront you that night?"

Pemberton hesitated. Then he said, "Yes. She called me that afternoon. She said she wanted to talk to me privately before the police got involved. She said she wanted to give me a chance to explain myself fully. She was going to meet me in her sitting room at nine o'clock."

"What happened at that meeting?"

"I never made it to the meeting," Pemberton said. "I was too ashamed. I couldn't face her."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes. I spent the evening in my room, thinking about what to do. I was considering confessing everything and throwing myself on Eleanor's mercy."

Chen studied him. She believed him. His shame seemed genuine.

But if Pemberton didn't kill Eleanor, then who did?