Murder A'la Mode. G. A. McKevett

the marble of the pillar on the left: “Blackmoor Castle.”

      “Wishful thinking,” Tammy muttered.

      “Yeah, well, one could hope. Especially since one is going to have to hang out here for a couple of weeks. Eat, sleep…or try to.”

      “Gargoyles are supposed to scare away evil spirits.”

      Savannah shuddered as they drove past the columns, and she got a close-up look at the beast who was chowing down on the little fat angel. “Yeah, right. These things are so scary-tacky they’d frighten away anything—bad or good. Maybe the rest of the place isn’t so hideous. I mean, we’re supposed to be filming something romantic here, not Frankenstein Meets the Werewolf.”

      As they drove down the gravel road, the Volkswagen stirred up a cloud of dust in its wake, obscuring the grim greeters at the entrance. But new horrors quickly appeared in the form of seven statues that lined the right side of the road.

      At first, the sculptures simply looked like an assortment of oversized human figures wearing hooded robes. But on closer examination, the expressions on the faces of what turned out to be monks were hideously contorted.

      “Boy, that guy looks madder than a wet hen,” Savannah said of the first one.

      “And that one seems to be soused,” Tammy commented.

      The third one had his tongue lolling out and a dirty-old-man leer on his face.

      “Oh, I get it,” Savannah said. “They represent the seven deadly sins. So far we have Rage, Envy, and Lust.”

      “And that one’s got to be Gluttony.” Tammy pointed to the fourth figure, which had a plump face and a rotund tummy.

      His glazed, sated expression reminded Savannah of the look on Dirk’s face after she fed him a rack and a half of her famous barbecued ribs.

      “I don’t think I’ll be taking any moonlight strolls down this road,” Savannah said as they passed Jealousy, Greed, and Sloth. “Not even with Lance on my arm.”

      “Lance Roman on your arm…has a certain ring to it, huh?” Tammy giggled. “Do you think you’ll get a chance to, like, make out with him?”

      “I don’t want to even think about it. I don’t dare.” Savannah sighed. “If I get my hopes up and then I get voted off the first night, I’ll have to kill myself.”

      They passed through a thickly wooded area and when they emerged they got their first glimpse of the castle. From the actual moat with a drawbridge to the battlements and corner round towers with fluttering pennant flags, Blackmoor was the quintessential medieval fortress—at least, at first glance.

      “Is that a real moat and drawbridge?” Tammy said as they drove onto the narrow bridge that crossed the ribbon of water circling the structure.

      “Looks pretty wet to me,” Savannah said peering out the window at the sparkling water below. “But I think I see some goldfish swimming around in there. Are moats supposed to be stocked with goldfish?”

      “A crocodile or two would be more effective, protection-wise.”

      “Maybe they’re gold piranhas.”

      Tammy leaned forward, squinting through the dusty windshield and studying the massive iron gate that hung high above them. Its lower edge sprouted a row of sharp spikes. “That reminds me of the reverse spikes in a parking lot entrance, only more lethal.”

      “Yeah, if that sucker dropped on you a time or two it’d sure cure you of illegal parking.”

      Once through the arched entrance, they found themselves in a cobblestone courtyard. Several buildings filled the enclosure created by the protective stone walls that encircled the complex. Most of the structures had steep, granite-tiled roofs and plastered walls with Tudor beam crosshatching. But in the center of the courtyard, the largest of the buildings was shaped more like a traditional castle, with stone walls and arched windows. The top of the edifice was flat and rimmed with a row of giant gargoyles perched on the edge, glaring down on those in the courtyard below.

      In front of the structure stood an elegant black carriage. Two huge, white draft horses were hitched to the front in harnesses of crimson leather with shiny silver buckles.

      A tall and gorgeous male, wearing a royal blue tunic, black leggings, and knee-high boots stood at the head of one of the horses, stroking its ears and speaking to it soothingly.

      Savannah rolled down her window as Tammy pulled the VW alongside the carriage. “Hey, Sir Ryan…lookin’ good in those leggings.”

      Leaning across her, Tammy said, “Hi, Ryan. Where should I park?”

      He pointed to a barnlike structure behind the main building. “Over there, in yon garage…I mean…stable.”

      “Thanks.” Tammy gave him a thorough once over. “Savannah’s right; you look awesome in tights. You should wear them more often.”

      “Like to Home Depot?” he asked. “Hooters, maybe?”

      Savannah laughed. “Yeah, you spend a lot of time there.”

      “Hey, I’m on a first-name basis with the paint department and the plumbing section at my Home Depot.” He waved them on. “Go park. They don’t want automobiles in front of the keep.”

      “The keep?” Savannah asked.

      “That’s the main building of a castle,” Tammy announced proudly. “The heart of the compound, the most secure area where precious things were kept. Hence the term ‘keep.’ I’ve read up on all that stuff.”

      “I knew that.” Savannah turned back to Ryan. “But we can’t park here, huh?”

      Ryan shook his head. “Nope. Ruins the ambiance, if you know what I mean.”

      “I guess there’s nothing like a hot pink VW bug to jerk you right out of the seventeenth century,” Savannah said as they pulled away and headed toward the “stable.”

      “Seventeenth? If it’s the Middle Ages, I think we’re talking a lot earlier than that.”

      “Seventeenth, tenth, eleventh…whatever.” She shrugged. “I never was any good with dates.”

      Tammy found one of the garage’s six parking spots empty, and she quickly pulled into it. When they got out and looked around, she said, “I don’t think the architect who designed this place was too good with his dates either. You’ve got fifteenth-century Tudor over there, along with the more Norman lines of those battlements, which are from…say…the turn of the millennium. And those steep, granite roofs with the round turrets and decorative ironwork are reminiscent of a French chateau.”

      Savannah stuck out her tongue. “Show-off.”

      Tammy laughed. “You want your suitcases now?”

      “We’d better leave them in the car for the moment, just in case I flunk the audition. It cramps your style if you have to lug luggage when you’re stomping away in a huff.”

      “Good thinking.”

      As they approached the keep, Tammy pointed to a door toward the rear of the building. “Do you suppose we should use one of the back doors…you know…a servant’s entrance?”

      “Shoot, no. I’m going straight to the front door. No time like the present to start acting like the lady of the manor.”

      Tammy shook her head. “You know, Savannah, if you could just come out of your shell….”

      “Hey, people only treat you as good as you treat yourself, Tammy darlin’. And you and I just aren’t service-door kind of girls.”

      The front door was an impressive, eight-foot-tall, arched affair with hammered iron hinges and a pewter door knocker shaped like a snarling lion’s head. Savannah grabbed the ring that dangled from his