Overview

The moment Inspector Sheamus Gaffney stepped onto the sun-dappled stone streets of Venice, he felt a rush that he had not experienced in years. For months, he had meticulously planned this getaway, dreaming of floating lazily along the Grand Canal in a gondola, tasting cicchetti at a bustling bacari, and losing himself in the vibrant atmosphere of the Venetian Carnival. As he strolled towards St. Mark's Square, the gentle lapping of the canal waters mingled with the distant music of a street performer, and the air was rich with the scent of fresh seafood. He hungrily sampled a succulent shrimp spiedini from a colorful stall, savoring the delicate flavors and warmth of the sun on his face-a feeling of blissful, carefree normalcy. But this brief moment of joy shattered within hours. Just as Gaffney admired a group of masked revelers, a tourist excitedly approached him, exclaiming, ""You're Inspector Gaffney! Doesn't your presence just bring bad luck?"" The laugh was uncomfortable, and before he could escape the stares, he stumbled upon a scene that would extinguish the warmth of Venice forever. A body lay sprawled near the Basilica di San Marco, lifeless and cold. Gaffney sighed, fatigue washing over him, ""Not again. Never escape it. Even in paradise."" Perhaps the curse was real, always trailing him like a shadow, and now stifling his much-anticipated getaway with the dark stain of murder.

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