The Wistful Dinner
The rain lashed against the slate roof of the manor, a relentless drumming that sought to drown out the silence within. Inspector Arthur Vane stood by the window, his reflection ghostly in the dark glass. He wore his uniform with a stiffness that suggested the fabric was armor, not cloth. The room smelled of wet wool and old paper. He was leaving. This was the final hour before he handed in his...
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