The Millionaire and The Witch

Chapter 2

Samson Tallman was a private detective known for his discerning taste in cases. Only the ones that piqued his interest ever saw his attention. That morning, he found himself at the sprawling estate of Professor Jefferson Williams. The professor's daughter had discovered him dead, and the rumor had quickly made its way to Samson's ears.

The daughter, fraught with grief, had spent the previous night with friends. Returning home in the morning, she had expected to find her father in his office, engrossed in his work as usual. But the office was empty. Panic set in as she searched the house, finally finding him lifeless in his bedroom. Samson, unable to bear the sight of her anguish, turned his focus to the crime scene.

This was no ordinary death. The whispers of murder surrounded Professor Williams, a man known for his controversial views on the occult. His ownership of a disputed piece of land only added to the intrigue. Samson was drawn to this case not just by the professor's death, but by its ties to a series of mysterious events that had unfolded over the past year.

Professor Williams had been part of a clandestine group studying occult activities on the outskirts of Muir, a region shrouded in mystery ever since a wealthy man had purchased a tract of land there. The occult community believed the land to be sacred, though its significance remained a puzzle. Samson suspected that Williams and his colleagues had uncovered a dangerous secret. Two members of the group were already dead, including Williams, and a self-proclaimed priestess had vanished without a trace.

The priestess's disappearance was particularly troubling. Devotees of the occult rarely abandoned their perceived sources of power. Samson had tracked her to Table Mountain near Cape Town, where she had warned him of an impending danger. At first, her words seemed like the ravings of a paranoid woman, but as he delved deeper into the group, the truth became harder to ignore.

Many of the group's members were descendants of reputedly magical families. Their recent windfalls—lottery winnings, unexpected inheritances—hinted at something more than mere coincidence. Most of the scholars had fled, taking jobs in distant cities or countries. Only the landowner and Williams had remained in Muir, and now Williams was dead. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, but the picture remained murky.

Samson waved to the detective in charge, who approached him with a weary expression. "Sam, any insights? We've got some powerful people demanding answers."

"I thought you concluded it was poison," Samson replied, eyeing the body sprawled on the bedroom floor. Williams was dressed in navy blue pants, a white vest, and an unbuttoned shirt, as if interrupted in the middle of his morning routine.

"Yes, traces of poison in his mouthwash," the detective confirmed. "No signs of forced entry, the alarm didn't go off, the cameras saw nothing, and the neighbors noticed nothing unusual."

"Have you looked into the land dispute he was involved in?" Samson asked.

"Yes. He was being compensated. It looked like the case would have been settled in a couple of weeks. Any thoughts you have would be appreciated."

"Check into his recent occult studies, the private ones—not the university-sanctioned research. I think that's where you'll find answers. I'll share whatever I uncover during my investigation."

With that, Samson walked out of the professor's home, determination hardening his resolve. His next stop was Broody Logan, a man with shadowy connections to Jefferson Williams. The clock was ticking, and Samson knew that unraveling the secrets of the occult and the disputed land was key to solving the professor's murder—and perhaps preventing his own untimely end.