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James leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing with focus. “We’ll figure it out,” he said calmly. “Let’s start by checking the crime scene first.”

.....

They arrived at the villa a few minutes later. The gates creaked open slowly as Marco drove up the gravel path toward the grand yet quiet estate. The morning sun cast long shadows across the ivy - covered walls, and the silence that hung in the air was heavy with unease.

As the car came to a stop, the front door opened. A middle-aged woman and a younger man stepped out to greet them — Francesca and Paolo, the housekeepers’ niece and her husband.

“Hi, Officer Rossi,” Francesca said with a soft nod, her hands nervously wringing a dish towel. “You must be the detectives from England. Thank you for coming. Oh, sorry, and you are?”

Alice stepped forward with a polite smile, introducing herself. “I’m Alice Whitmore, Detective Taylor’s assistant. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

Francesca nodded in acknowledgment, her expression still tense. “Of course. Please, come in.”

James gave her a polite nod. “Thank you.”

Without wasting time, Marco gestured toward the house. “This way,” he said. “We’ve kept everything just as it was.”

They stepped inside the villa—its marble floors cold and polished, the air faintly scented with dried roses and something darker, older. Marco led them down the hallway, past ornate paintings and locked doors, until they reached the bedroom.

He paused at the threshold. “This is where we found her.”

James exchanged a glance with Alice, then pushed the door open.