I
Fog rolled across the English countryside as a silver moon lit up the night, Sean Quinn could almost swear that he heard a howling noise as he hiked along the beaten path before him. He swallowed hard, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching him, stalking him, waiting for him to drop his guard and…and what? He wiped his brow; he was only being paranoid, and he knew it.
Quinn looked up and saw the castle up ahead. Castle Morra was to be his home while on vacation. An eccentric rich couple had converted the ancient stone building into a luxury holiday home.
“This looks like it will be quite a stay,” Quinn said to himself. He hiked up to the giant wooden door and looked around. Beside the door was a long, thick rope. He tucked his shirt in and pulled down on the chord, which hung next to his head. There was, in response, a loud ringing noise that resonated throughout the castle.
Nothing happened for a moment. Then, the doors began to creak open. Now, standing in front of Quinn, was a small man in a black suit. He gave Quinn a blank stare.
“Yes?” The little man said finally, blinking each eye individually.
“Er, I’m Sean Quinn. I’m a guest here and I’d like to check in. The little man began to smile.
“Ah, yes, Master Quinn, come in, come in,” said the little man, gesturing Quinn inside the castle. Quinn, shrugging off the uncomfortable feeling the little man gave him, followed his host inside the old stone structure.
“My name is Frye,” said the little man leading Quinn on, a brass lantern in hand.
“Uh, nice to meet you, Frye,” replied Quinn. He looked around as he followed Frye, who led him through a long corridor filled with large paintings and stone statues. Quinn stopped for a moment in awe at what stood before him.
“That is very cool,” said Quinn. There, standing in its glory, was a full black suit of armor, taller than Quinn by a head. And, in its hands, pointed toward the ground, was a large sword.
“Ah, yes,” began Frye, “this is one of the many suits of armor that came with the place. Makes the place seem rather authentic, doesn’t it?”
“It certainly does,” Quinn said slowly, “I feel like I’m back in the Middle Ages.” He let out a laugh.
“Yes, well, we hope you enjoy your stay. Your room is right up these stairs, come along,” Frye said. The pair walked up the steps and opened the door to the luxurious room. It was filled with brilliant tapestries, furniture, and the sight for Quinn’s sore eyes, a large bed.
“Oh, yeah,” said Quinn, “I think I’m going to like it here.” He placed his bags down and Frye bowed slightly to him.
“I’ll leave you to it, sir,” Frye said. The little man picked up his lantern and walked back down the stairs. He stopped for a moment, thinking he had heard a loud clanking noise. He continued down the stairs slowly.
“Well, that’ certainly odd,” he said. There, in the hallway, stood an empty spot. The spot where, just minutes ago, stood the black suit of armor.
II
The next morning, Detective Dandy awoke to a rapid knocking on his door. He sat up in his massive bed and shook his head.
“Who’s there?” He asked, irritated.
“It’s Frye, sir,” came the voice on the other side of the door. “There’s been some, er, trouble, sir.” Dandy slipped into a pair of fuzzy slippers that sat by his bed and shuffled toward the door. Opening it, he looked down at Frye.
“Why is it that, whenever I go on vacation,” began the detective, “there’s always ‘trouble’ to be had?”
“What do you mean, sir?” Frye asked.
“Well, listen, the last time I was on vacation, there was—oh, never mind. I even left the blasted country this time,” Dandy said, waving off the notion that had formed in his head.
“Sir, you see, it’s just that, at the evening meal yesterday, you mentioned that you were a detective,” Frye said.
“That’s right,” said Dandy. He narrowed his eyes. “Say, what’s this about?”
“We may be in need of your services, there’s been a little…incident.”
“Get to the point, man,” cried Dandy.
“Yes, my apologies, sir,” began Frye, “there’s been a murder.” Frye drew a finger across his throat as he said the last word. Dandy felt this an unnecessarily macabre addition to this terrible sentence.
“A murder?” Echoed Dandy. He kicked the ground and let out a curse, decrying his luck. Here he was, all the way in England for the very first time in his whole life, in a castle, nonetheless, and murder had to go and find him. He crossed his arms and frowned.
“Well, take me to the body. Have you called the police yet?”
“We certainly would, sir, it’s just that the masters of the place, Mr. and Mrs. Porter, have heard of you. Your reputation precedes you. The famous Detective Dandy from America. You handle…cases of an unusual nature, right?
“Yes, that’s right. Don’t tell me, don’t tell me, something spooky has happened.”
“That’s one way to put it, sir,” said Frye. The little man gestured for Dandy to follow him, and the pair walked down the hallway to Quinn’s room. Once inside, Dandy saw immediately the disarrayed nature of the room. There had been some kind of serious trouble in here. Then, Dandy saw the body. There, on the bed, a twisted look of horror etched upon his face, was the corpse of Sean Quinn. And, most terrible of all, was the sword protruding from his chest.
The blade, long as it was, stuck out from the wound, and straight through the bed.
“My God,” whispered Dandy, as he examined the body. Blood had stained the sheets and a pool of red liquid had formed under the bed.
“We found him like this in the morning,” Frye said. “The door was locked form the inside as well.”
“This is truly horrible,” replied Dandy. “We must prevent anyone from leaving the castle from this moment on. It may already be too late.”
“Very good, sir,” said Frye, “no one has come or gone since Mr. Quinn arrived last night.”
“Excellent,” said Dandy. “Have them all rounded up in the dining area, and I will have a look around this room.
“Yes sir, right away, sir,” replied Frye. He scrambled out of the room, leaving Dandy alone.
Dandy wondered just what had happened. There was an obvious struggle, but who or whatever did this to Quinn was much stronger than the poor dead man.
On the other side of the bed, Dandy noticed giant footprints embedded in the carpet.
“Unusually large,” he observed. He knelt to take a closer look at the footsteps. “How strange, they don’t appear on the side of the bed toward the door. And the door had been locked from the inside. How could the killer have gotten into this room? He followed the footprints back to the wall. There was a red and yellow tapestry draped over it. Dandy stretched his arms about and felt the stones.
“What’s this?” One of the stones he touched began to sink into the wall. There was a low rumbling, and then a slight shifting of the wall. It moved, to the side, revealing a narrow staircase leading downwards.
“Now that is interesting,” Dandy said, smoothing his mustache.
III
Carefully, Dandy began to descend the stairs. The stone steps beneath his feet echoed loudly as he continued to go down. They came to an immediate stop after several feet, maybe a yard. Ahead of him, another wall. Dandy looked around, but it was dark, and he couldn’t make out much. Blindly he grasped at the wall before him. He fumbled around until he made contact with another sinking stone. Pushing it inward, the wall began to open up.
Dandy walked out from behind the door and found himself in a long hallway. There were several suits of armor lining each side, but one, the black suit that he had remembered seeing upon his arrival, was missing. He was greeted simply by an empty spot.
“Curious,” Dandy remarked to himself. Though he had found the means through which the murderer had entered Quinn’s room, it had seemingly led him to a dead end. Anyone, or anything, could have accessed those stairs if they knew how to find them.
Dandy followed the path down the corridor and found himself in the dining hall, where several people sat around a large wooden table, most of whom looked irked.
“Finally, the old man has shown up,” said a young man with black hair and a beard.
“Calm down, Mr. Forbes,” said Mrs. Porter, co-owner of the castle, and Dandy’s host. She played with the necklace she wore nervously.
“Yes, what’s this all about?” Asked a woman with fiery red hair.
“If you will keep calm and let the man explain,” began Mr. Porter, folding his hands together.
“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Porter,” Dandy said. He looked around, beside the man with the beard, Mr. Forbes, and the woman with the red hair, who he would learn to be Ms. Kale, there was a young couple named the Landells. And with Mr. and Mrs. Porter, and Frye, that made up all the current occupants of the castle.
“I expected more guests,” Dandy said.
“It’s a slow time of year,” Frye responded.
“Well, to me, this is good news, because it means less people for me to interrogate, less suspects, and more opportunity for me to get back to my vacation,” Dandy said. He looked from person to person at the table, then a terrible darkness crossed his face. “That is,” he paused, “if it was a person.”
“Oh, now what is that supposed to mean?” Asked Ms. Kale.
“What we’re supposed to believe there’s something evil, something supernatural in the castle?” asked Mr. Landell.
“Would you rather be trapped in here with a murderer beside you?” Dandy asked, eyeing the man.
“Well, uh, er…” stammered Mr. Landell.
“That’s a fair point,” Frye said, nodding his head and rubbing his hands together. Dandy stepped forward and placed his knuckles on the table.
“Did anyone here know Sean Quinn?” There was no audible response, just the shaking of heads. Dandy waited another moment. “Alright, did anyone hear or see anything unusual last night?”
There was silence, then Frye stepped forward.
“The suit of armor, it’s missing. It was there when Mr. Quinn got here, then gone the next time I went down the stairs.
“Oh, come now,” said Mrs. Landell, “you don’t expect us to believe that a…a suit of armor killed the man, do you?” Frye rubbed the back of his head.
“I suppose I don’t know what I’m asking you to believe,” he admitted.
“This is a big, and sometimes spooky castle, I’ll admit,” said Mr. Porter, stroking his chin. “Anything could be possible.”
“That is more true than you know,” said Dandy, rapping his knuckles against the table, drawing everyone’s attention his way.
“Listen,” began Mr. Landell, “just because some hotshot American detective is here, doesn’t mean we need to—”
“I’m afraid it is quite a serious matter,” interrupted Mr. Porter. “So, for the time being, we will listen to our esteemed guest.” Dandy nodded his appreciation to his host.
“What I want to know,” Dandy began, “is did any of you have contact with Mr. Quinn?” He looked around the table, waiting for anyone to speak up.
“Sir,” began Frye, “he got here quite late last night, and I believe I was the only one to have any interaction with him.” To this, Dandy smoothed his mustache.
“Very well,” Dandy said and cleared his throat. “I’m afraid no one will be able to leave the area until I’ve figure this out.
“For God’s sake,” Forbes cried, “let the police handle this, aren’t you supposed to be on vacation anyway?”
“I’m beginning to think there’s no such thing as a vacation in my line of work,” said Dandy. “And besides, by the time the police figure anything out, it could be too late for all of us.”
IV
Later that day, as the guests began to accept the depth of their situation, quiet in their refusal to speak to one another, a loud scream split the silence. Dandy, in the parlor, snapped his head toward the sound of the noise. It was a man’s voice.
“Good God, what was that?” Asked Frye, who had crept up beside Dandy.
“Sounded like Forbes to me,” Dandy said, rushing off in the direction of the scream. He followed the echo, and then there was another scream, this one cut short with a terrible rattling noise.
“I think we may be too late,” said Frye, doing his best to keep up with the detective. The two men ran down the corridor and entered Forbes’ room. They looked around and saw the area in chaos, there had been a serious struggle, but they could not see Forbes. That was, until Dandy looked toward the bed. There were a pair of feet sticking up over the bed from the other side.
“Quick, there he is,” Dandy pointed. He ran to the other side of the bed and saw Forbes sprawled out, in a pool of his own blood. Dandy wretched as he continued to look up on the scene, for within a moment, he realized Forbes no longer had a head.
“Good lord,” Dandy began, covering his mouth.
“Mr. Forbes–!” Cried Frye, who, after staring at the body for a moment, spun around and ran from the room.
Dandy began to look around, they had not passed anyone leaving the room, and this attack was certainly fresh. The attacker must have snuck through the wall again. He headed toward the stone wall and felt around until his had groped a stone that sunk beneath his touch. There, on the steps, were footprints, footprints that had trudged through blood. Dandy swallowed and, against his better judgement, began to follow the footsteps.
Halfway down the staircase, Dandy stopped to listen. Ahead of him, were the reverberations of footsteps. Metal. The knight, it was far ahead of him, for the foot fall was faint. Dandy quickened his pace to…to do what? He didn’t really know. He had charged head long into this situation and hadn’t planned on just what he would do if, or when, he caught up with the suit of armor.
Dandy came to a clearing at the end of the staircase, but there was no sign of the armor. He looked down. The footprints had stopped.
“Blast,” he cursed. He felt the wall before him and within seconds had it open. He looked ahead of him and saw he was in a dimly lit hallway. He shook his head, for lining the hall on either side, were suits of black armor.
“This could be a little tricker than I imagined,” Dandy said, stepping out into the hallway. Slowly he walked up to the armor, one by one. He gave the first suit a good hard push, and it fell to the ground with a great crashing sound. He let out a sigh of relief, seeing that there was nothing in the suit. Then, as he turned his attention to the next piece of armor, he heard a great rattling sound. Slowly, he turned around to see the suit that had been pushed to the ground, floating, piece by piece, reassembling itself in the air.
“That is not good,” he said to himself, backing away. The armor continued to put itself back together until finally the helmet came to rest on the shoulders. Dandy stumbled over his own feet until he hit another wall with his back.
“Maybe we could talk about this,” he said with a weak smile. The armor, unresponsive to the Detective’s words, simply began to plod forward slowly. Dandy turned his back to the black knight and began feeling frantically at the wall, hoping, desperately looking for a stone to open the wall and get himself inside.
“Any time now,” he said feeling sweat form on his brow. He turned his head over his shoulder and saw the knight slowly raising its sword above its head.
As the knight got closer, Dandy began to fumble around even more desperately, until his left hand reached a torch above his head. The torch shot up and the wall opened, swallowing the detective whole. On the other side of the wall, now closed, Dandy put his hands on his knees and let out a sigh.
“That was a close one,” he said finally.
V
When Dandy was out of the walls, he stumbled into the small library residing within the castle walls.
“Books, that’s good, books are normal,” he said to himself. He looked around and noticed books strewn about the place and several small frames hung on the walls. He approached them, looking around to make sure that he hadn’t been followed. He could see a faint reflection in the glass and noticed he was sweating. He wiped the beads from his brow.
“What’s this now?” He asked, examining the framed bits of paper. He scanned them over and chuckled. “Love letters of yore, huh?” He picked one of the frames up off the wall and sat at the small desk in the center of the room. It read:
“Dear Cecilia,
Though this castle has long been abandoned, I believe that we shall find both success and luck here, we shall prosper. It is my intention to open the walls of this stone behemoth to the public, so that weary travelers may indeed rest their head. We shall open it as an Inn, you see! My father owns the rights to this land, through various trades and no doubt work and luck, but now it has come to my hands, and if it is in my hands, it is in your hands.” Dandy skimmed the letter to see if there was anything of note.
“To commemorate this occasion,” it continued, “I have purchased you a gift. I hope that you very much enjoy the enclosed necklace that comes with this letter. It was my mother’s, and her mother’s before her. It has been the family a long time, needless to say, and now it is yours. Please take care not to lose it, for as long as you wear it, I know that you love me.” Then, down at the bottom,
“With love, always,
Matthew
June 6, 1889.”
Dandy let out a whistle. 1889, almost 100 years ago to the day, even. What did this all mean? Dandy had a gut feeling that it was all tied together. Perhaps if he could glean some information from the Porters, it would help.
There was a sudden noise behind him. He whipped his head around to see Mr. Porter standing in the doorway.
“Detective, here you are,” said Mr. Porter. “Once we found Forbes, we feared the worst for you.” He stepped into the study. “How did you manage to escape?” Dandy shook his head.
“Just luck, mostly,” Dandy replied. “Say, what do you make of this? Know anyone by the name of Matthew who owned the place?” Dandy asked, giving the framed letter to Mr. Porter, who scanned it over.
“Ah yes, Matthew Leatherman, one of the old proprietors of this castle. They say he died in these very walls.”
“Well, if that’s true, I believe he may be in that suit of armor. Or at least his spirit is,” said Dandy.
“Do you really believe that?” Asked Porter.
“I do,” said Dandy grimly. Porter’s shoulders went limp.
“Well, what do we do now?” He asked.
“I’m not sure,” replied Dandy. “But we must gather everyone again, we must stick together this time.” Porter nodded his head in agreement.
Once the parties had been rounded up and were together once more in the dining hall, Dandy stood at the head of the table. He looked from person to person.
“Now that we’re all here, I want to tell you to stick together. This thing seems to be hunting us, looking for something.”
“Oh, let’s just get out of here, then,” said Mr. Landell.
“That would be ideal,” said Frye, who had joined them last, “but you see, I just approached the front doors and, well, there’s a big, black suit of armor guarding them. With a sword, of course.”
“Sugar,” said Dandy.
“Sugar indeed, sir.” Frye gulped.
VI
“Ah, let’s just smash one of the windows and crawl out that way,” Mr. Landell finally cut in after several moments of silence. Mr. and Mrs. Porter didn’t like that idea very much, but consented that, if it was the last option, they might well heed the suggestion.
As they gathered near one of the windows that had been installed sometime over the last century, there grew a heavy clanking of footsteps coming down the corridor.
“Oh, sugar,” Dandy said again. Rounding the corner, the suit of black armor came into view.
“Well,” began Ms. Kale, “I suspect it’s time for a hasty retreat.” She pointed to the window. Mr. Porter, acting first, clumsily began to hoist his wife toward the window, which was high on the castle wall.
“I’m not sure we’ll have enough time for that,” said Dandy, gesturing the suit of armor which drew ever closer. The sound of footsteps grew louder and louder, until they filled the old detectives’ skull like thunder.
Finally, it was upon them.
“Everyone run,” demanded Dandy. The party split and went off in every direction. Dandy, alone, began to run back toward the study. But then, he noticed the suit was chasing the Porters.
“Blast,” he huffed. He altered his course and ran toward the owners of the castle. And, though he was an older man now, he was quicker than the heavy suit of iron that chased them down. So, the detective caught the couple with ease.
“Why is it chasing us?” Demanded Mr. Porter.
“I think…” Dandy tapped his chin, “I think it wants something.”
“What could it possibly want?” Asked Mrs. Porter. “It’s a living suit of armor.” Then, Dandy thought of the letter he had read from Leatherman. He looked at Mrs. Porter. “Where did you get that?” He asked, frantically pointing to the necklace she wore. As he did so, the trio was boarding themselves up in a bathroom on the first floor. Why did it have to be a bathroom, with no exists? Wondered Dandy.
“Why I—” but Mrs. Porter could not finish her sentence before there came a great crashing on the door. The knight was outside, and he was intent on smashing the door to pieces until he got in.
“Where did you find it?” Dandy yelled.
“Why, I just found it in a chest upstairs, belonged to some woman named Cecilia. Legend says she died here.” Bam. The door began to splinter. And this time, the sword came clean through. The door was only a swing or two away from completely disintegrating.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I’ll take that,” said Dandy. He snatched the necklace off the woman and turned toward the door.
“I have what you want,” he cried. The banging on the door stopped. Cautiously, Dandy approached the door. Wetting his lips, he threw it open. On the other side, the knight stood motionless. Dandy stretched out his hand, offering the necklace to the imposing figure before him.
“Here,” Dandy said, “take it. It’s yours.” The knight stood silently in response. Finally, after what felt like an hour, the knight reached out its armored hand and took the necklace from Dandy’s hand. It seemed to not, but Dandy wasn’t sure if he’d really seen that or not. Then, it turned and walked away.
“Are we safe?” Asked Mr. Porter.
“I believe it’s over,” said Dandy.
VII
The remaining guests gathered in the dining hall once more, standing around the table. Only this time, everyone had their luggage with them.
“Say, isn’t there some way you’ll stay?” Asked Mrs. Porter.
“We’ll give you a day for free.” Chimed Mr. Porter.
“I’m lucky to have my head attached to my body,” said Mrs. Landell. “We’ll be leaving as soon as the cab gets here.” She turned and walked with her husband. Ms. Kale followed them silently.
“I suppose once word of this gets out,” said Frye, “I’ll be out of a job, huh, detective?” Dandy thought for a moment.
“I’ve seen my share of odd,” he began, “but this was something else. I do wish you luck, Frye.” He shook the man’s hand. Frye helped the old man carry his luggage to the door.
“What will you do now, detective?” Asked Frye.
“Well, I’m going to go home. But first, I’m going to spend the rest of my trip at a nice, quiet hotel and rest. All this excitement has the bones acting up. Know any place that will do for me?” Frye thought for a moment.
“Well, the closest place to rest is,” Frye gulped, “the Black Knight Inn.” Dandy shuddered at the thought.
“Thank you, my friend,” said the detective, “but I’ve had enough knights for one night.” And with that, he left the castle, seeking a place to rest his head, for which he was grateful, it still being attached to his shoulders.
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