Welcome, friend, to Edgar Allan Poe’s Murder Mystery Invite Only Casual Dinner Party/Gala for Friends Potluck. I don’t think he’s breathing! This isn’t part of the game! This is an actual murder! I’m getting out of here! Look. Annabel?! What?! Tell no one, seek no help, or the only thing you will be authoring henceforth is your own death. Hey, it’s a real shame about those dead people, huh? Friends, something’s afoot. I suggest we scour the house for clues. I suggest we split up. Wait, wait wait. Split up? Yes. Pair off. That’s a terrible idea. Whoever is paired with the murderer will be in grave danger. Are you really suggesting one of us is the murderer? Yes! Who else could it be? YOU! If I had wanted to kill Eddie, I wouldn’t have done it in a crowded room full of potential witnesses that I invited. I would have been far more inconspicuous, perhaps learning a foreign language to throw off anyone within earshot–Mandarin, probably. Then I would have followed him home from work at the bank on a Tuesday because he uses the back entrance off of Pratt Street. Then, to further confound authorities, I would have planted something inscrutable, like the feather of a Brazilian peacock, or the rind of a fruit grown only in Papua New Guinea, at which point, I– I would– I mean, that was just one idea I had. Uh, that’s incriminating. I hear that now. This is tiresome. Let’s just split into pairs and be done with it. Killer talk! Watch it! I’d be so threatened if I wasn’t already dead! Uh, perhaps it would make the most sense to start at, at the top, and then work our way down. I could take you to the attic! It’s my jam. Well I’m not walking around this place with someone who would actually murder me. Ha! Mr. Eliot? Oh, yes. Do not be afraid. I have brought along the Duke of Coventry and Humphrey Cadwallader for your protection. Yes. Yes that is what I meant. Mmm. Buuuuurp. I just don’t see why we can’t hold tight until Miss Christie arrives. Sweetie, I’m not waiting around for Agatha while the rest of us keep dying off. This is just like that time last year at our summer estate when everyone thought my sister Emily had been maliciously poisoned but it turned out she had just caught the influenza! Which killed her. Edgar, what can I do to help? Annabel and I will explore the upstairs. Perhaps the murderer left a hair– –Or perhaps he lives there. She’s not going alone, Poe. I’m coming along. Besides, there’s an odd number of us so there has to be at least one group of three. Actually, there’s an even number– I suppose that leaves me with the most murdery looking person here. A toast! To ending this horrible night. Certainly the worst of any of our lives. *toasts in Russian* Bottoms up. Right? You have got to be kidding me. Miss Lee, have you ever enjoyed the final drops of a robust Rioja while taking in a golden Spanish sunset? If we ever get out of here alive– Poe: Oh, put a sock in it, you drunk. We’re supposed to be looking for clues. Hemingway: And I found one. The only clue I need to the mystery of who I’m going to Spain with after this nightmare is over, huh? Huh? Thank you, Ernest, but I actually have taken in a golden Spanish sunset quite recently. I found the whole experience rather overrated. You did? You went to Spain? With Eddie? Yes, overrated. Exactly. Finally, someone who agrees with me. Can’t stand the place. Sunsets? Might as well watch the paint dry. France, however– Poe: I like Spain. I’ll go to Spain. Poe, I don’t think your complexion and that climate– You know, you think I’d burn, but– Excuse me. Three people have died tonight in this house, one of whom was very dear to me– VERY DEAR TO ME–and I will not have you bicker about vacation spots! I will scour this upstairs by myself if I must! Hemingway: Mm. Oh! Poe: Oh, don’t smoke. And don’t litter! What is wrong with you? Hey, hey, give that here! This is an IOU to Eduardo Dantes. Look. I owed the man for a sports bet, nothing more. He gave me extra time to pay up, and–I was close to extinguishing my debt! I’m a man of my word. Oh, I believe that. Please, don’t tell the others. *scoffs* That you’re a liar, and a drunk, and a deadbeat? Annabel was right. Oh, for crying out loud. I’m going to explore the other bedrooms. You’ll never leave me. Aren’t we supposed to be looking for clues? Oh, that? Oh, no, no no no. That’s a waste of time. I’m–I’m ensuring we catch clues that haven’t been dropped yet. I don’t follow. I’m creating a rudimentary image capture device. I shall call it a camera. With a lens and some simple chemical processing, uh– I’ll build these cameras, and then I’ll, I’ll, I’ll put together a sort of motion sensor device that way when someone moves past the camera, it will activate, revealing the killer. I mean this in the nicest way, buuuuut that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of. Well, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that. In fact, that Eddie bloke laughed at my last invention and now time machines are the talk of the science fiction town! Whoa whoa whoa, you knew dead Eddie too?? Um, uh… Charlotte: I’ve seen nicer studies in–oh, nevermind. I’m not wasting a good study insult on someone who barely speaks English. Hey, beard! Do you think you’re going to find the murderer in there? No. Merely inspiration. *cough* Okay, well. You stay here and be ominous. But if I hear you coming near me– I am not the murderer! Well, I’m not the murderer either! I’ve got my eyes on you. Well, huh. Uh. I–uh. I guess there’s not point denying it. Huh. Y’see, I, I went to him for uh, for a loan. For–for supplies to build my model time machine. It would–it would be used for marketing my books and, and maybe one day– maybe even… Uh, I mean I don’t, I don’t, I don’t actually believe in time travel or anything like that. I do. I do believe in it. But I didn’t think mentioning my connection to Eddie would matter. I mean, after all, I didn’t kill him. And besides, what use is there inviting suspicion when that would just take time away from, you know, catching the real killer. So who do you think did it? You–you don’t think I did it? Well, I’m a pretty good judge of character. I’ve been thinking about Alcott’s symptoms. I don’t think she was poisoned in the dining room. What? How do you know? Her body exhibited signs of potassium cyanide exposure. Yes, it’s–it’s too fast acting. Her coughing fit earlier may have been unrelated. Oh. Weird. I thought it was because she wore that dress. Oh. Ha! A–a joke. Mm. I see. It was hideous. Hm. The soup is pretty good. So what does HG stand for? Oh, I couldn’t possibly tell you. It’s terribly embarrassing. Is that why you got into inventing things? Because you have experience being embarrassed? When I was young, I was in an accident. Broke my leg. Spent weeks recovering in bed and all I could do was read. Read and read–so I decided I should write. Writing is a form of inventing, you know? So I decided, why not invent as well? How did you get into…fashion? Well, my mother told me I came out of the womb crying and wouldn’t stop until someone wrapped me in an organza swaddle so… Wells: Long time, then. I’m not old, though. I like, literally just died not that long ago. How did you move on to the other side–if you don’t mind me asking? Well, it was my wedding day. I was getting married to the love of my life, Guy de Vere. That week. The love of my life that week. Guy! What are you even doing here? It is such bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. I just couldn’t wait. Lenore, you’re burning up! I must fetch you a physician. I think I ate a bad batch of ribs at the bachelorette party. For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies. The life still there upon her hair, the death upon her eyes. At least… this dress.. is fab. Mystery illness! Happens all the time. Even to us hot people. My family hired a really good psychic named Krishanti and she brought me back. I guess I owe her my afterlife. I’m sorry. Ha–Have you haunted your fiancé at all? No, actually. Um, he died too. Shortly after me. Killed himself. Because of–? Yeah, yeah. Because of me. God, lame! If he had just waited a hot sec, I would have come back to haunt him and it would have been amaze. Well, I–I suppose if I were him I’d be extremely sad too. Cribblesticks! I–I don’t have enough wire! I’ll–I’ll go get more! Okay. Thank you. So Frankenstein is not the name of the monster? Nope! He’s just the doctor. So, what’s the name of the monster? Eliot: Uh, it was–pretty sure it was Karen. Wilde: Oh, I had a cousin named Karen. She was so rude. Eliot: Look! Oh! It’s an elevator. Oh. Oh! The kitchen! *squeaking* *both screaming* Bloody hell, it’s a mouse! This is by far the worst thing that has happened tonight! *both wailing* *ravens cawing* Wait. Oscar, do you hear that? *door creaking* Oh, isn’t this a portending portal? Eliot: Should we look around in here? *more cawing* *door locks* Eliot: Well, that is not great. Oscar: Mary Ann, are you okay?! Eliot: I’m–wait–Mary Ann? I’m–I don’t–I–I’m not familiar with that name. Oscar: Oh, stop it. What’s in there? Eliot: I think it’s–ooh!–ravens? Oscar: Hold on, I’m going to go get a crowbar. Or–a ravenbar? Eliot: Oscar! Stop it. Oscar: Oh, what about a cockatiel bar? Eliot: No, stop. Oh, I got one, I got one–a blue footed booby bar! Stop! Stop. Oscar: Oh, this is wonderful! Eliot: I am loving this gaiety but–I, I–there is excrement all over me, please. Oscar: Oh, alright. I’ll be right back. Hold on. Edgar! Ernest! Annabel. I came as soon as I heard. We–uh. We both did. What? Annabel: Look what I found. What gives, Poe? Very mysterious having vials of poison lying around. Who would just leave an incriminating piece of evidence out in the open? Annabel: Look closely. Hemingway: Whose blood is that? *piercing scream* Charlotte, what is it? I wonder what it’s like to wear pants.