The Waxing Mystery

During my 2025 Dublin Adventure, I inadvertently crossed the threshold into a world that felt straight out of a gripping thriller.

It happened while I was exploring the National Wax Museum Plus.

What should have been a lighthearted excursion spiraled into a chilling murder mystery, where the line between reality and the macabre blurred, and danger lurked just out of sight.

The museum, a labyrinth of eerie waxen wonders, was home to an array of figures, from iconic historical personalities to contemporary pop culture enigmas.

Unbeknownst to me, one of these figures harbored a dark secret — a murderer was in their midst, and it was up to me to unravel the truth!

Time for me to channel my inner Sherlock Holmes.

THE CASE:

Edmund, the museum’s janitor, was found brutally slain in the Science Zone. In his 30 years at the museum, he kept the place spotless and maintained order amongst the residents. Not an easy assignment given the egos of the stars that call this place home.

During the initial phase of the investigation, I learned Edmund had his favorites and wasn’t discreet. This show of favoritism led to a lot of tension over the years.

Hmm, I’m surprised he lasted 30 years given the egos in this place.

The museum recently decided to implement a new marketing campaign to attract new visitors. This led to some reshuffling, and Edmund’s favoritism led to some figures moving next to old enemies, reigniting old rivalries.

I guess someone finally snapped. Oh, I get it now. Always wondered why they named that show ‘Snapped.’  

THE SUSPECTS:

My investigation narrowed the suspect list down to four:

1. Darth Vader: He didn’t like his new placement.
   Alibi: He was attending a meeting with the powerful and evil.
   
   
2. Deadpool: He was angry over Edmund’s constant nagging & he didn’t like his new neighbor.
   Alibi: He was on a hot date.
   
   
3. Elizabeth I: She hated her placement in the basement; “it was an insult to her ‘royal person.’
   Alibi: She avoids the science room, so she couldn’t be the murderer.
   
   
4. Hannibal Lecter: Hated being in the Chamber of Horrors next to Swamp Thing.
   Alibi: He was enjoying his dinner of liver “with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.”

THE CLUES:

As my investigation unfolded, I meticulously sifted through the myriad clues scattered at the crime scene.

The assailant clearly had no knowledge of modern forensic science, leaving behind a trail of evidence that spoke volumes.

Hmm, could that be another clue?

Here are the clues I uncovered:

1. A symbol of love and beauty, often red.

2. Sweet treat, colorful and sugary.

3. Absorbs all light, often used for mystery.

4. A trace left behind, a step taken.

5. Yes, moon.

There was a sixth clue, but, unfortunately, it was utterly ruined by a careless new crime scene technician who was fresh out of the schoolhouse.

Seriously! I wasn’t allowed off desk duty for three months after I earned my detective shield.

THE INVESTIGATION

Father Ted Room

The air felt thick and oppressive, and the foreboding atmosphere sent chills racing down my spine. I methodically made my way from the Science Zone to the Father Ted Room.

The name isn’t a pun — it’s a statement. It really is just a room. Designed to mimic the parochial house from the TV series, you might expect it to burst with charm.

Instead, it feels like a tax audit in a poorly lit library — meticulously arranged but decidedly lacking in that spark of joie de vivre that keeps visitors from nodding off into a blissful slumber.

The room is sad, but the figures here don’t share a space with the others, so no motive to commit the murder.

Celebrity Zone

Next, I headed to the Celebrity Zone, where the figures are arranged just right for visitors to snap that all-important selfie with their favorite celebrity.

I mean, who wouldn’t want to show off their boyfriends, Jedward, or drag their friends for a photo with Ronan Keating?

If those figures could talk, I can only imagine the shade they’d throw over my selfie poses.

However, Edmund didn’t do a good job here.

Why is U2 sitting on the ground staring up at a poorly made Michael Jackson? And why is Tina Turner standing next to Darth Vader, who is standing next to Dr. Freeze?

The layout doesn’t make any sense. It’s a strange collection of personalities that leaves you scratching your head.

I get why Vader was upset.

I transition to another part of the Heroes and Villains Zone to question Deadpool. He too hated his new placement as he was in full view of The Simpsons family, with Bart pointing and laughing at him.

On top of that, he was way too close to a lazy Santa Claus who was out cold, snoring like a chainsaw. And on Christmas Eve! Deadpool found this absolutely despicable.

A Royal Audience

I then made arrangements to head toward the History of Ireland Zone, as this is where I had to question Elizabeth I.

There was no way this formidable Queen of England would abandon the safety of her throne to answer my questions down at Detective Headquarters.

She ‘graciously’ granted me an audience with her royal person.

As I stepped into the grand Palace of Whitehall, the air was thick with history and anticipation. My credentials were meticulously examined, a ritual that underscored the prestige of this storied place. Once cleared, I was guided through the ornate corridors, their walls adorned with rich tapestries that whispered tales of the past.

As I approached the Great Hall, the air grew thick with uncertainty, as if the eavesdroppers were holding their breath, waiting for a confrontation that could change everything.

What truths lie behind the curtain of history? Would I uncover a secret that could alter her legacy forever?

Get a grip. This is Whitehall, not Hampton Court Palace.

Finally, I entered the Great Hall, a majestic expanse where soaring ceilings and intricate carvings seemed to awaken the very spirit of royalty.

As I approached the Queen, anxiety decided to rear its ugly head.

The whispers began to swirl like shadows around me. Questioning Elizabeth felt akin to facing a tempest; she loomed before me, her regal presence stark and foreboding, devoid of warmth. Her silence was more terrifying than any Category 5 hurricane.

Swallowing hard, I stepped forward and began my interrogation. Every instinct honed and alert, ready to uncover the truth lurking beneath the surface.

“A queen has never been so dishonored!” Elizabeth’s voice was a dagger, while her regal gaze pierced through me like ice.

All righty then. Off to a great start.

I continue with my questioning. Elizabeth maintained her innocence with a steely resolve — she did not murder Edmund, and she was nowhere near the Science Zone.

“We are of noble lineage. Only a peasant would sully their hands with the stench of murder.”

Oh lord, she broke out the royal ‘We.’ Methinks she protests too much.

The tension in the room heightened as I weighed her words, searching for any hint of deception in her demeanor. Seeing none, I concluded my questioning and thanked Her Majesty for her time.

After being royally dismissed, I navigated the dimly lit corridors toward the Chamber of Horrors, a place thick with unpleasantness and dark secrets.

Chamber of Horrors, or Humor?

Fueled by a desperate need for answers, I headed to the Chambers of Horrors more determined to uncover the layers of intrigue and deception.

The air grew heavier as I approached the Chamber’s one and only prison cell. The reinforced door’s metal surface was cold and unyielding.

Inside, I came face-to-face with the enigmatic Hannibal Lecter, the mastermind cloaked in menace and brilliance. The chilling anticipation quickened my pulse as I prepared to stare into the abyss.

His lips curled into a smile that was anything but joyful; it was an unsettling grin that sent a chill down my spine, its eerie quality amplified by the shadows that danced around him.

“Detective, I’ve been expecting you.”

Well duh!

Lector, a true mastermind with an extraordinary gift for foresight, seemed to peer into the depths of my mind. With an air of confidence and a glint of intellect in his eyes, he articulated the answers before I asked the questions.

“While I do not enjoy my placement in the vile sanctum, I have been under lock and key since my arrival.”

Yes, but you’ve cleverly escaped before, haven’t you?

“Yes, but if you delve into the medical examiner’s report, a curious detail emerges: Edmund was found still in possession of his brain and liver. I, on the other hand, was savoring a delicacy — not just any liver, but a fine one, paired with fava beans and a hauntingly rich Chianti — at the very moment of his untimely departure from this world. Coincidence or fate intertwining our paths, wouldn’t you say?”

I left Dr. Lector, allowing him to immerse himself in the haunting melodies that danced around him, weaving a tapestry of sound that seemed to connect with the very depths of his imagination.

Yet, as I glanced back, a cold shiver raced down my spine, for I couldn’t shake the eerie visions that slipped through my mind, painting pictures of the dark and twisted thoughts that I imagined might be swirling in his head.

Back to the Beginning

Returning to the bustling atmosphere of Detective Headquarters, I settled into my chair, ready to dive deep into the tangled web of the case. Opening the case file, I spent the next hour sifting through the mountain of evidence, each piece a fragment of a larger story waiting to be unveiled.

I was puzzled. The clues were there, beckoning me like sirens. The haunting echoes of the suspects’ interviews were stuck on repeat in my head. Each word resonated, drawing me deeper into the web of mystery, as I desperately sought the truth hidden within their veiled confessions.

As ebbing daylight surrendered to inky darkness, the narrative’s threads twisted into a tapestry of rivalry, jealousy, and desperation.

Clue #5 had me utterly perplexed, as the two seemingly unrelated words performed an Irish Jig inside my head, giving me a headache and a healthy dose of confusion. It was a riddle wrapped in an illusion, and with each passing moment, the clouds seemed to darken.

I need to crack this mystery before time runs out. That, or before I missed the bus back to the hotel.

Cracking the Case

Desperate for guidance and feeling the weight of my uncertainty, I reached for my trusty Encyclopedia of Puzzles — Google. Its held the promise of answers, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more at stake than just solving a puzzle.

What if this was a trap? What if the truth lingered just out of reach, waiting to ensnare me in its web?

I reviewed all the clues one more time. What connected them? Then, like a burst of sunshine breaking through the clouds, a surge of clarity illuminated the chaos around me.

OMGosh, I know who did it?

APPREHENDING THE CULPRIT

I took a bold step forward, the arrest warrant clutched tightly in my hand. Clearing my throat, I raised my voice, allowing it to resonate with authority as I declared …

“Elizabeth, by grace of God, Queen of England, France and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, I arrest you for the murder of Edmund the Janitor.”

The room went silent. No one moved. Even the Queen’s stoic bodyguards remained utterly still, caught in the web of my words. My announcement struck like a lightning bolt, electrifying the atmosphere and leaving a ripple of astonishment in its wake.

Summoning my courage, I continued.

“Your Majesty, your relentless pursuit of glory has devolved into a perilous obsession! You could not abide what you perceived as disrespect. You committed murder, taking the life of Edmund without hesitation.”

The silence that ensued felt deafening, every waxen head snapping toward her in disbelief, as the weight of revelation settled over the room like an impending storm.

Elizabeth chuckled softly at first, the sound almost eerie in the dim light. But the chuckles quickly morphed into laughter. Seconds later, her laughter crescendoed into a belly laugh so intense that tears streamed down her cheeks, glimmering like jewels in the shadowy room.

And then, as if she sensed a shift in the air, her laughter abruptly ceased. She rose from her throne, looming over me like Mother Nature ready to unleash her wrath.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Her gaze locked onto mine, and I could feel the weight of her presence, every heartbeat stretching into an eternity before she finally spoke.

“Edmund dared to thrust me into the depths of the basement alongside the peasants. How dare he show such insolence towards my royal lineage?” she seethed, her voice laced with rage and anguish. “He ought to count himself fortunate that he suffered only a mere stab. A fate far more befitting of his treachery would have been to be hanged, drawn, and quartered, as any traitor rightly deserves.”

Refusing to be intimidated, I summoned every ounce of my strength and stood resolutely before this esteemed Queen. Justice demanded I not back down.  

“Rather than serving as a worthy example to your people and demonstrating the fairness of the system you preside over, you chose to take the life of another human being. Your Majesty, this decision not only undermines your authority but also erodes the trust of those who look to you for guidance.”

As I moved to cuff the Queen, Her Majesty’s Counsel stepped forward — with Edmund standing next to him, very much alive.

What the heck?

“Detective, as Her Majesty’s Counsel, we must duly commend thy adeptness in unraveling the mysteries. Yet, as it is evident that Edmund draweth breath, no transgressions have indeed been wrought. Thus, Her Majesty is at liberty to proceed unencumbered.”

Unfortunately, I had to reluctantly agree with the Counsel. The reality hit hard: without any murder having taken place, I found myself with no other option but to head back to Detective Headquarters. It felt like a heavy weight on my shoulders, disappointment settling in as I turned away from what I had hoped would be a significant milestone in my detective career.

Later, as I strolled the streets, the cold Dublin air enveloped me like a shroud. I reveled in the thrill of having unmasked a murder mystery in the most unexpected of places.

Even if it turned out that no actual murder was committed, the fact was that I’d solved the case using my intelligence, keen observations, and dogged determination.

Nevertheless, if you ever find yourself wandering the entrancing halls of Dublin’s National Wax Museum Plus, tread lightly — these figures might be more alive than they appear!