Monster Murder Mystery

Part I: Ernie

Ernie Styles had no idea if he was on time for the party. The invitation card had arrived at his office only a few days earlier, handwritten in crimson ink:

You are cordially invited to the special occasion of the year. At my home, you will have the chance to meet some individuals that will be of particular interest to someone in your line of work. Sincerely, J.

Ernie had no idea who J was, but the invite looked legit and he never turned down a free party. The only problem? There was a date and address on the invitation, but no time. He decided to turn up around dinnertime, hoping he would be fashionably late at worst.

He left his car and sauntered up the driveway to the mansion. The air was muggy and storm clouds gathered overhead. The mansion that loomed over him was full-on Gothic—stone walls covered in ivy, crooked windows, and gargoyles on the roof. Ernie had grown up in South Carolina before he moved to California, and the house wouldn't have looked out of place in some of the rich neighborhoods full of creepy old white people where he had often gone trick or treating as a child.

When he arrived at the massive front door, he saw the knocker was in the shape of a serpent. Too perfect. He paused to neaten his short hair and smooth down the creases in his designer suit. There was a distant rumble of thunder and the first few spots of rain started to fall. Grasping the knocker firmly, he rapped it loudly two times.

Within seconds, the door creaked open. A middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed beard stared out at him. His body was as a stiff as a board and he wore a tuxedo. There was a grim expression fixed on his face.

"Good evening, sir," the man, evidently the butler, said. His perfectly clipped English accent was dripping with courtesy but also condescension. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Hey, Jeeves," Ernie said, trying to lighten the mood. The butler's expression didn't change. "My name's Ernie Styles. I'm here for the party."

The butler looked perplexed. "The party?"

"Yeah. It's tonight, isn't it?"

"Oh, you mean the gathering?"

"Gathering, party, whatever."

"Do you have the invitation?"

Ernie sighed and took the card out of his pocket. He showed it to the butler, who took the card and looked down his nose at it, his eyes flicking between Ernie and the message. He handed it back to Ernie.

"Happy now?" Ernie asked.

"Very good, sir. Please come inside." The butler stepped back and beckoned him with one hand.

Ernie moved through the door. It slammed closed behind him as if someone had pushed it, but the butler was nowhere close. That was a little freaky, if he was being honest.

He shrugged and admired the lavish interior. Red velvety drapes adorned the walls, and large oil paintings hung every few feet. An antique grandfather clock, sparkling with gold, ticked away in the corner. Whoever owned the place was old money.

"So, where's our host?" Ernie asked the butler.

"The Lord of the Manor is not currently here. Allow me to show you to the dining room."

"Sure, buttle on."

The butler scowled at Ernie and then led him through a doorway. They walked down a long, winding corridor festooned with burning sconces. The smell of mold and dust in the air made Ernie want to cover his nose. Finally, they arrived at a double doorway. The butler opened it and ushered Ernie inside a long, windowless room. Unlike the hallway, this room had electric light coming from the ceiling.