Minutes pass, maybe hours, as the detective studies the blood in the library. Was it possible the victim was struck twice in this room, but didn’t die? She got up from the floor, nursing a head wound, and walked out of here on her own…?

Finally, the detective heads for the kitchen, entering through the swinging doors.

It’s an industrial-sized kitchen, not like anything you’d see in a normal house. Certainly built for staff and servants at the turn of the century, not a modern-day family.

There are two rooms connected to the backside of the kitchen, a large washroom for staff, and a utility room with two sets of modern washers and dryers for laundry. Next to these, the detective locates the breaker box.

Back when the house was originally built, there was no electricity just candlelight and kerosene. But the breaker had been installed at some point and then updated with a modern set-up, probably by the current owner.

The panel had already been dusted for prints earlier, smudges smear the front door and inside of the box itself.

Carefully, the detective flips each switch, casting the house in darkness. Just like it was last night.

The detective uses her phone light as a torch, making her way back to the kitchen from the breaker box. Moonlight seeps in through the old windows; tendrils of light climb the ceiling and walls, casting eerie shadows in the dark. The detective’s heart rate quickens. She tries to channel her father’s steely reserve.

She moves to the pantry door, takes the bronze knob in her hand, and turns it.

Inside, the pantry is just like Elizabeth Beake described. Shelves lined with canned goods and boxed food, extra paper and household supplies. But the detective isn’t interested in the pantry’s contents, she’s interested in the butler’s quarters.

After talking to Elizabeth about the pantry and Tinsley’s odd behavior, she pulls up blueprints of the mansion online. She can easily see the small garret rooms that were essentially ‘invisible’ to most people in the nineteenth century. Back then, and still sometimes today, servants were kept out of sight and out of mind, as they were more a part of the house and woodwork itself instead of real people working for the family. The butler’s pantry was part of this.

In reality, the entrance isn’t hidden at all. Not if you’re looking for it.

The back wall of the pantry is mostly empty and cleared of goods in one section of the wall, and the knob to the butler’s door is clearly visible when the detective shines her torch upon it.