The mystery?🤫

Previously

…Corbin’s pulse quickened. “She.” The ‘understanding’ Eleanor Vance had spoken of. The hidden resentments Julian Croft had so carefully masked. Finch’s secrets, it seemed, were far more intricate and personal than anyone had imagined. The locked room was no longer just a puzzle of mechanics. It was a puzzle of the heart, a tangled web of desire, betrayal, and desperate measures. The killer, Corbin suspected, was not some faceless stranger, but someone intimately connected to Alistair Finch’s carefully guarded private life. And that, in Corbin’s experience, made them all the more dangerous. He closed the diary, a grim satisfaction settling upon him. The game, he knew, had just begun.