Detective Jameson stood at the edge of the dark mansion. Gothic spires reached towards the stormy autumn night sky slowly. The owner's body lay on the floor in cold blood. Golden candlesticks stood nearby, eerie shadows on the walls. The door creaked softly, a quiet, stealthy presence was there. Muffled voices whispered in the room, fearful eyes met mine. A chill ran down Jameson's spine, his eyes scanned the scene. Bloodstained marble floor seemed to glow in the dim light. A name, whispered in his ear, echoed through his mind. Suddenly, a hand grasped his arm, a frightened voice spoke.