It's the eve of Halloween, and everyone is gathering for the Monster Bash at the Monster Mansion. The same haunts are hosting this year's event: Count Dracula, Frankenstein's Monster, Wolfman, Mummy, and the Gillman, visiting from the Black Lagoon.
Normally, their parties are pretty exclusive, but you've gotten friendly with the monsters as of late and they have agreed to let you invite some other humans to the festivities, provided that you at least, wear a costume. You don your ever-ready Sherlock Holmes costume and head out, confident you'll soon see all the people you invited.
The Night of the Party
The door opens and the mansion looks finer than it ever has- one could say that the addition of a little fresh blood really livened the place up. Glad to have finally made it, you promptly start up the Monster Mash and dance like there's no tomorrow.
Once you stop spinning and shaking, however, you notice that the party has, well, died. Everyone seems to be in a catatonic daze, but for the monsters and yourself. They're zombies, just not the flesh eating kind.
You are obviously shocked, concerned, and confused. You really love spending time with the monsters and don't want them to fall into trouble, but you also feel responsible for all the humans that you invited to the party.
You decide to embody your costume a bit more, and deduce who (if anyone) among the monsters could have been responsible. But before doing that, you want to quench your thirst after all that dancing.
That's when you notice that all of the other people have cups in their hands. Something was added to the "bloodbath" punch, this much you are sure.
Making your way over to the line of buffet tables, you see trays of food to on side, illuminated by candles. The glare of the moon glances off the punch bowl on the other side, and you, Drac, Frank, Wolf, Mum, and Gill gather around, peering in at the contents. The distorted shapes of your six sets of eyes add to the many candy eyes floating in the punch. You look up and carefully survey your suspects.
Suspects
Frankenstein's Monster
Pulling Frank aside, you can immediately tell that he is upset, on the brink of tears.
Because it seems a logical first question, you ask him "Why are you upset?"Frank sniffles before ansering "I.. make...punch....bad..." Of course, you think; Frank loves working in the kitchen because it reminds him of the doctor's lab. Frank certainly isn't the brightest of the bunch, so he probably blames himself for whatever the punch did to the guests. Additionally, since he is so dim, there's no way he could have planned something like lacing a punch. Then again...the snuffed candles on the drink side of the buffet might mean something.
Count Dracula
Allowing Dracula to sidle up on you instead of pulling him aside, you go for the obvious question. "Drac, bloodbath punch is your favorite alternative to actual blood. You wouldn't have requested it, just to poison everyone here, right? That would make you an easy culprit."
"Of course not," he scoffs, "I was sleeping through all the preparations today, and someone would have noticed if I'd added anything once the party started. Besides, the punch bowl has a silver ladle. Whether I wanted to mix something in, or just get a drink, I'd be putting myself at risk getting near the bowl."
He did seem a little skittish peering over the bowl, you recall...
Wolfman
The Wolfman scratches himself uneasily as you approach him. It's not easy to look in any of the monster's eyes for truth, but Wolf is usually a bit easier to read, since he looks so much like your dog.
"Don't you have a history with gypsies, Wolf, the king that make all sort of potions and incantations? It seems like we might have a bit of that going on here."
"Not a chance this is from me. You don't know how hard I work to stop myself from hurting people. And Drac and I are in the same boat, I don't want to touch that silver ladle either." Right. You knew that.
Mummy
The Mummy is pacing back and forth, so you pull him over to the buffet tables and give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. A puff of dust flies from him and you notice the table is already coated in a thin layer of it.
Before you can even ask a question, Mummy blurts out "I was wrapping presents!"
"That's the wrong holiday, Mummy, nice try but that alibi won't fly."
"No, honest," he exclaims, "that's what my people do. Plus, it's never too early to start on holiday presents..." You can't disagree with that, but the dust is undeniable. Mummy is as dry as bone (and bits of flesh), so it could just be a coincidence. But his dryness would make him wary of fires.
Gillman
You don't know Gillman as well, but you'd like to think (especially dressed as Sherlock) that you know what makes him tick. "It must have been terrible undergoing all those experiments, you know, from those scientists trying to figure out what makes you tick? Is this your turn to conduct a little experiment of your own, Gill?"
"Hey, I don't mind people. I prefer them wet and in skimpy swimsuits, but if they mean me no harm, I mean them no harm. And you should know that I stay away from any liquids that are not water; it would be all too easy for me to drink a coke, fill a pool with coke, then wind up with clogged gills. You'd never see me touching anything but water." Having swam in a pool of coke yourself, you know of the slippery slope he mentioned.
The Deduction
Having interviewed the monster friends, you wander back to the source of the crime once more. Standing at the punch bowl, you look for any details you could have missed, but there isn't much there to miss. You reflect on everything that happened during the night and everything the monsters told you to prove their own innocence. If you can find the monster responsible, you should be able to reverse whatever happened to all the humans, and you need that to happen.
Then you have it.
Who is the culprit?
For Clarification:
- There is no vampiric/mummy mind control at play. The monsters are friends.
- The culprit may have had help, or could have worked alone.
This was largely inspired by this puzzle, which was awesome.
