The morning sun streamed through the kitchen window, warming Amelia's face as she hummed a jaunty tune while making pancakes. She flipped them expertly, a practiced hand from years of Sunday breakfasts. The batter sizzled invitingly, a delicious aroma filling the air. She envisioned the happy smiles of her grandchildren as they devoured the golden-brown discs. Later, they would play in the garden, a riot of laughter echoing around the old oak tree.
A knock at the door startled her from her reverie. A young woman in a crisp uniform stood on the porch, a clipboard in her hand. "Mrs. Davies? I'm Officer Miller. I have some… information regarding your property." Amelia’s brow furrowed slightly, a sliver of annoyance replacing her earlier bliss. Still, she plastered on a smile, inviting the officer in.
Officer Miller cleared her throat, her voice professional. “We’ve been reviewing old cases. It appears this house, before you purchased it, was the scene of… a homicide.” Amelia’s smile faltered. Her stomach did a little flip. But then, she took a deep breath. She’d always loved a good mystery novel.
"Well," she said, her voice bright, "I always felt a certain *character* about this place. Perhaps now I know why!"