It was an auspicious day at the Poirot Family Mansion, with clear blue skies, crisp country air within a picturesque scene of rolling green hills before a line of pasteurized meadows and evergreen pine forests rolling at its rear. The rectangular, letterbox shaped, white-stone mansion of eight levels, and its surroundings of manicured hedge maze and flower gardens, complimented the scenery.
Many ground workers pottered around the gardens or strolled the stone-paved paths with their attentions fixated on their work, which kept the area pristine.
Strolling down the side cobblestone path to the main entrance was a young servant girl in a black and white simplistic maid dress.
She was humming a pleasant tune as she carried pots in arms, which were bound for the kitchen back entrance. Her sandal stubbed something unexpected as she passed beneath the window of the third son's bedroom, which was high on the fifth floor where all the lords and family members slept.
As she looked down to see what had hit her foot, she saw the family's third son lying sporadically on the path near the flower beds. He was still dressed in his evening attire of lavish paisley blue and gold suit with polished burnt-red boots. She wondered if he was passed-out drunk. The Poirot's third son had a strong reputation for drinking, gambling and visiting the Peony Soap House to spend time with the flowers.
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She fretted with the decision on whether to wake him or continue with her business, but guessed he would be in trouble if he was discovered by someone else. Should that happened, she would be in trouble either way. So she mustered the courage to wake the young lord from his stupor, determining his grouchy reactions would be the lesser of trouble she would face.
“My lord. You need to wake up.” She timidly said over him and fretted more when he wasn't stirring.
She lowered her pots to the ground and knelt before his head to give his shoulder a gentle nudge.
“My lord. This is the outside. Please wake. I'll help you to your room.” She continued to gently nudge him. A little bit harder this time that some of his arm gave way.
It was then that she saw an odd and unpleasant sight. Her eyes widened with shock and fear when she saw crude patches of dried, dark liquid beneath his body. She stood to see more of it near his lower area.
She was momentarily confused as she pieced together what was wrong with the young lord. Dried patches of dark liquid and an unresponsive body. She had seen a body in a similar position when she had been making an errand down a dark alley. That body had been dead for some time.
Realizing what she was seeing, she slowly backed away, trembling with fear. She let out a frightful scream that disrupted the air, and startled a flock of ravens out of a tree.