The Game Is Murder

1

a murder is announced

People that trust themselves a dozen miles from the city, in strange houses, with servants they don't know, needn't be surprised if they wake up some morning and find their throats cut.

-Mary Roberts Rinehart, The Circular Staircase

The lights are on at 8 Broad Way. The steps have been swept and the brass door knocker has been polished. For this is an occasion. Walk up the steps and tap lightly upon the door. They are expecting you.

The night has long since drawn in, and there is a biting November wind of the sort that turns the tip of your nose a deep raspberry pink. Your breath mists beneath the portico lamp. Stamp your feet and rub your hands together while you wait. It's not really cold, but the Georgian town house and the dark London street are reminiscent of a Dickens novel. Be David Copperfield. Hope for the best and make the most of every situation.

Footsteps on a tiled floor. Someone is coming. Get out your invitation. This is it. Good luck.

You are invited to a
Murder Mystery Party!

A murder will take place at: [Address] Here

On: [Date and Time] Now

It is 1974. The world is changing. The Summer of Love is over, and a new world order is emerging, brasher, louder and angrier than before. Gone is the old deference to Class and Money. Harold Macmillan's assertion that the country had never had it so good is long forgotten, and James Callaghan's Winter of Discontent is coming.

The working classes are on the march.

For the upper classes, things are no longer rosy. In the rarefied atmosphere of the Berkeley Club, gentlemen may cling to the old traditions, as a shipwrecked mariner to a life raft, and in the Georgian town houses of Belgravia, ladies may polish the escutcheons on their family silver and, in muttered tones, invoke the spirit of Enoch Powell as the savior of the Established Order, but the end is coming, and the dukes and earls and baronets all know it.

Even in the aristocratic sanctuary of 8 Broad Way, change is coming. And for one inhabitant, at least, change will be deadly.

RSVP

* Please try to dress in appropriate costume

* Arrive promptly

* Bring booze


Walk up the stairs to the drawing room. It is full of guests. Watch as conversation sputters into silence as you enter, and then, with a polite hiccup, smoothly resumes.

Champagne? Perhaps not. Look around the room. The faded velvet curtains are drawn against the night and look magnificent, though perhaps a year or two past their best. The furniture, too, is old, very old, but it commands the room as though it has grown into the house, as though it were bought new a century ago and has never since moved from its appointed spot.

A chandelier glitters and lamps are lit around the room, casting their warm yellow glow over the guests, dripping them in gold.

Greet the host. He is a little odd, to be sure, but they say that that which in the commoner is merely odd is, in the aristocrat, an interesting eccentricity.

"Welcome."

-Welcome, welcome.

"My brother and I are so glad you agreed to attend this little party of ours."

-Our little murder mystery.

"Well, less of a party and more of an experience, so to speak. I see you chose not to indulge in fancy dress for this occasion, and I congratulate you on your perspicacity. Most people, in the circumstances, would have dressed in bell-bottomed jeans and hippie beads. I can assure you that no one in this affair would ever have attired themselves in such a manner. My father's only concession to the age was a rather unfortunate mustache. In his dress, he remained, thankfully, remarkably conservative. As, of course, did my mother."

Watch as your host claps his hands to ensure he has the full attention of the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we will be examining a real case, one involving our own family-the Verreman Affair, as it is usually referred to in the press. We will shortly review the real evidence and consider the solution as it was presented by the prosecution in a court of law. You have each been assigned a part, and we hope that you will play it with gusto. Tonight, overacting is positively encouraged.

"A man has been accused, and, as you will see, has been, in some manner, convicted. However, this case is one of the most singular cases in legal history, and the court of law he was convicted in was not a criminal one. More on that later.

"I have my own theory about what occurred."

-Me, too! I have a theory. Oh yes, I do.

"I'm sure we all have theories. But we will not tell you our theories yet! My brother and I will listen to the evidence presented here tonight and contribute what information we can from our own firsthand knowledge of the case, and of the persons involved. In your turn, we hope that you will all regale us with your stories, and whoever plays the Great Detective will reach a definitive conclusion so that we can finally lay this matter to rest."

-Finally.

"Some of you we have met before. Others are new acquaintances. All are friends here."

Raise your glass in acknowledgment of the toast.

"For those of you who haven't yet worked it out, I am David Verreman, and, of course . . ."

-I'm Daniel. The other brother.

Applaud lightly.

"Thank you. And, of course, the convicted man I spoke of was my father. Tonight, the task of our Great Detective will be to discover not so much whodunnit but whether our father dunnit."

-I'm the brother no one talks about.

"Ah! The dinner gong."

-The dirty little secret.

"If you're all ready, shall we go down to dinner?"

-The one no one talks about . . . Contracts!

"And, er, yes, I almost forgot. Ladies and gentlemen, you should have received a contract with your invitation. Can I just check you have all signed and dated your contracts, and sent them back? If you have not received a contract, can you raise your hand?"

Did you miss something? Was there something written on the back of that invitation? Better raise your hand.

"Ah. Anyone else? No? Good. There you go. Do take your time reading it. I can always tell dinner to wait."

-I'm hungry.

Skim through the contract quickly; then sign it.

"Excellent. OK, then. If that is all of them, let's go down, shall we? I'm starving."

2

the documents in the case

It is not for me to suspect but to detect.

-Anna Katharine Green, The Leavenworth Case

The Contract

The Agreement

1. Reading the testimony that follows this agreement constitutes acceptance of this binding agreement between you, the reader of this document, hereafter known as The Reader, and the author/curator of this document, hereafter known as The Author.

The Document

2. This document constitutes the entire scope of this investigation.

2:1 All information relevant to the investigation must be contained within this document.

2:2 Any solution to this investigation by The Reader and/or The Author must be based exclusively on information contained within this document, and not on any theory unsupported by the evidence within this document.

Withholding of Information

3. The Author must not unreasonably withhold information from The Reader.

3:1 All information should be provided to The Reader in a timely manner.

3:2 If The Author acquires new knowledge relating to the investigation, it must be shared with The Reader as soon as possible.

3:3 It is The Reader's responsibility to assess the value and weight of information contained within this document. The Author cannot be held responsible for inaccurate conclusions derived from accurate data.

Persons of Interest

4. The Author must inform The Reader of all suspects, witnesses or persons of interest in a timely manner.

4:1 The Author must inform The Reader of any new suspects, witnesses or persons of interest as soon as possible after their discovery.

Solutions and Resolutions

5. In entering into this contract, The Author and/or The Reader undertakes to provide a complete solution to the problem under investigation. Unsolved mysteries are not permitted.

5:1 The solution/resolution at the end of this document must be derived exclusively from the facts, as presented within this document, and be consistent with the behavior and character of the suspect, as described in this document.

5:2 The solution/resolution, when explained, must be logical and must not be reliant upon chance or coincidence or be derived from divine intervention of any kind.

5:3 The culprit must have had clear Means, Motive and Opportunity, and this must be demonstrated by The Author and/or The Reader in their solution.

5:4 When demonstrating their solution, The Author and/or The Reader must explain their deductive process, including:

5:4.1 How they examined and assessed the evidence.

5:4.2 Their preliminary assumptions.

5:4.3 Their investigative and deductive reasoning, with results, including all working theories and rejected theories.

5:4.4 The reasons for the elimination of suspects from suspicion.

5:5 The evidence against the culprit, as identified by The Author and/or The Reader, must be compelling, and all parts of the investigation must be resolved.

5:6 The evidence against the other suspects must be less compelling than the evidence against the identified culprit.

5:7 The motive of the culprit, when demonstrated by The Author and/or The Reader, must be readily understandable, logical and human.

[And if you think that's confusing, try googling this: "Marx Brothers Sanity Clause."]

I hereby agree to be bound by the terms of this contract:

Name [Reader]

[Signature]

[Date]

Name [Author] A. N. Author

[Signature] A. N. Author

[Date] Today

Reading on denotes acceptance of these terms and conditions. Failure to abide by them may incur penalties. For details of penalties, please refer to Appendix B.

So, did you sign it?

You did?

Liar!

Get your damned pen out and sign it. We'll wait.


Right, then. So you’ve signed it now?

I tell you what. Not that I don't trust you or anything, but I will just remind you that reading on constitutes acceptance of this agreement, and that it is as legally binding as a signature.

OK?

Read on, Macduff.

Let's Play a Game!

An icebreaker. Isn't that what you call it? Don't you just love icebreakers? Of course you do. Everyone does. (Why else would you make people do them all the damned time?)

Don't worry, though. This one is easy. Child's play, actually. We have some items on a tray. In a moment, we will show you the items. Then we will take the tray away, and you'll have to try to remember as many of them as you can.

Are you ready? Here we go.

Gambling chips

A clock

A woman's shoe

A house key

A diary

A toy car

A lead pipe

A bloodstained letter

A teacup

A lightbulb

A bottle of pills

Got it? Good. We'll be testing you later!

3

the long divorce

I shall not be present at my trial.

-Maurice Leblanc, Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Thief

"Ladies and gentlemen, in tonight's episode of Perry Mason, I will be playing the prosecuting barrister, and . . ."

-I'll be appearing for the defense.

David Verreman is standing at the head of the table. A folded cream-colored card sits in front of each place setting, with the character name of a murder mystery guest on one side, and the menu on the other.

Your place is next to David.

"We have our witnesses here, and both the judge and jury will be played by our Great Detective. It's a slight mixing of metaphors, perhaps, but you will have noticed that detective novels generally don't bother with juries. They move straight from detection to guilty verdict, without worrying about trifles like habeas corpus. Not here. I will make my opening statement, and then we can start discussing the case while we eat."

Your place card says, The Great Detective.

Turn it over quickly.

The First Course

O

Prawn cocktail, on a bed of lettuce, sprinkled with a dusting of paprika

Accompanied by the opening statement for the prosecution

Served with brown bread

David Verreman puts a hand on your shoulder. He leans in confidentially, as if anxious not to be overheard.

"Congratulations, Great Detective. I'm sure you are going to do a great job. We have invited a number of people to join us this evening. You might call them witnesses."

-Or dinner guests.

"Or, as Daniel says, you might refer to them simply as dinner guests."

-Or suspects.

"Or, just possibly, as suspects. I have reserved for myself the honor of sitting on your left. Next to me we have Mr. George Howard-Cole and his wife, Margaret; next to them, Sir Henry Wade and his wife, Carolyn Keene-Wade. They are all friends of Lord Verreman, including Carolyn, who also happens to be Lady Verreman's sister."

-And our aunt.

"Then we have Dr. Ronald Knox, coroner. I expect his story will be quite a long one, because he does love to talk, so I will try to rein him in. We have also invited the jury foreman, who we like to call Jeff. 'J.F.' Get it? He doesn't have many answers for us, I'm afraid, but he does ask some pertinent questions, which you might find useful.

"At the far end of the table we have put Mr. Stanley Gardner and Mr. Eddie Biggers, the husband and boyfriend of the deceased, respectively."

He leans in closer and drops his voice to a stage whisper. "We have seated them together in the hopes that it will lead to fireworks later. I do love fireworks. Don't you?

"Next come our experts. We have Professor Cameron McCabe, the pathologist; Dr. Elizabeth Mackintosh, the world-famous blood analyst; and then comes another great detective, Chief Inspector Nicholas Blake, the detective in charge of this case.

"Finally, we have two singular gentlemen. Mr. William Collins-Wilkie to his friends-was a valet at the Berkeley Club at the time of the murder. And next to him, a gentleman who goes by the unlikely name of Gaston Leroux. He lends money-and at extortionate interest, if you can believe it. Lastly, of course, my brother, who has claimed the seat to your right."

David straightens up and addresses the room. "Welcome, all. During tonight's meal, we will invite each of our guests to make a statement about their particular knowledge of the case. Some of you will contribute a broad knowledge of the whole case. Others will have only a small snippet of information to add to the pot. All, however, are welcome at our table. I hope you will all be able to answer the questions raised by the Great Detective, or ourselves, or, of course, each other. Is that clear?