It was like a locked room mystery except for… well, the part about it being real-life. The room was locked, there was a mystery. If that is what we were calling the dead body pinioned to the hard wood floor with a mall-bought unsharpened broadsword that had been driven through the body (formerly known as Mrs. Smythe) so forcefully that it was embedded at least several inches into the modern, snap-together wood, and into the joist below. Also, we were locked in a locked room—my largest concern. Mrs Smythe was beyond helping. WE, however, appeared to be quite trapped.