The Final Soiree

Aunty Myrtle threw the best parties. The reason they were such a success lay not in the cuisine, which could be considered average at the most, but the experience. The parties were fantastical. Each party was peppered with an element of surprise which at times took a life of its own.

I remember so vividly the Indian summer themed soiree from many moons ago. We dressed up in silks and jewels like the Maharajahs and Maharanis. Aunty's lawn was a sea of rich fabrics and glittering jewels. Dinner was set al fresco on low lying wicker sofas called divaans, set in a semi-circle, decorated with colorful brocade tapestry. Amidst the chatter and laughter, Jeeves the butler, rang the brass gong authoritatively, summoning the guests to the divaans. The house staff dressed in muslin tunics and off white turbans took their place, standing behind us diners keeping us cool with the gentle breeze of bamboo hand fans. 

 The smell of the heavy spices permeated the air as the first course was brought out on silver dishes. However, our attention was caught by a melodious sound. I looked to see who was playing a melody so haunting and saw a man dressed in saffron walking towards us playing the flute. He walked to the center of the semi-circle and gently put down the jute sack that was hanging from his shoulder. He sat down and undid the rope that tied the neck of the sack. As the notes of the flute rang through the air, to our amazement a magnificent cobra slithered out of the sack, uncoiled his body and raised its majestic head. His beady eyes observed us curiously and after being assured of our absolute attention, he started to sway to the tune of the snake charmer’s flute. We all went still, some of us mesmerized and some terrorized. 

Old man Potter had been enjoying his single malt a little too much all evening and by now his faculties were quite impaired. He burst into an enthusiastic cheer, appreciating the snake’s sensuous moves. Having once been a great dancer himself, he longingly thought of the days when his own tango moves would bring down the house. The pang for adulation rose in him again and before anyone could stop him, he joined the cobra on the dance floor meeting it every sway of the way. At first we looked on in horror but then when he started to slither on the floor, the crowd went crazy and cheered him on. It was only when he stopped moving and his skin started to turn blue that we realized that something was awfully wrong. Dr. Sothebury one of the guests, rushed to him and saw the telltale sign of fang bites on the right side of his neck. Potter was rushed to the hospital where the venom was drained. And so old Potter now wheelchair bound, got to live an adventure not too many can boast of.

And then there was the winter soiree when Aunty Mrytle invited us to an evening that promised to be magical. The bartender was very good at his skill and the martinis kept getting dirtier. We were in for a special treat, the world renowned Woodini was going to perform magic tricks.

Woodini’s appearance was even more eye catching than his tricks. He stepped on the stage in a deep red velvet cape and knee high patent leather boots. His head was draped in a black turban with a peacock feather pinned on the front. His dark kohl lined eyes scanned the room gauzing for the gullibility of the audience as the peacock feather on his magnificent turban bobbed.

“Who wants to get away from it all and leave their worries behind?” his booming voice invited. “I will make you disappear.”

Who would not want to be a part of the famous Woodini’s magic trick where you could leave all your problems behind? A number of us responded with an enthusiastic “Aye”.  Amelia, a starlet of yesteryears, squealed ‘Aye’ in her high pitched voice. She had come dressed in a sequence dress so tight that it risked the seams coming apart under the pressure of any movement. Woodini’s cunning eyes lighted up appreciatively as they rested on her svelte figure and in a split second she was the chosen one. She walked up to the stage and stood before us with her heavily mascara laden eye lashes fluttering and her full red lips pouting as her face flushed with pride. Woodini put an arm around her for it was not for nothing that his escapades with the ladies made daily headlines in the local rag.

The time had come for the trick to start. Amelia tottered precociously in her insanely high heels to the red and black enameled cabinet that had traveled the long journey from the Orient. With abated breath we watched Woodini open the door and lead her inside then with great gusto he muttered some mumbo jumbo and shut the door firmly. The Chinese letters printed in black on the right door stared back at us solemnly. 

The suspense was killing. We took anxious sips of the martinis which were flowing freely. After what seemed like forever, Woodini opened the door and lo and behold the cabinet was empty. A roar of cheer filled the room. Woodini for sure was the best magician the world had ever seen. Riding high on the applause Woodini gestured for us to be silent for it was time to bring Amelia back. He opened the door with a flourish as he bowed to us. 

But…there was no Amelia standing in the cabinet. Woodini floundered, he rushed to open the door to the other side of the cabinet but there was no one there either. He hastily removed the fake back of the cabinet but again nothing there. We sat aghast! Where was Amelia? As we watched him take the cabinet apart I wondered if this too was a part of the performance. But then Woodini sank to the floor, next to the dismantled cabinet, holding his head and shrieking in despair. Failure was hard to take.

Where was Amelia? She had to be somewhere in the house! We searched but to no avail. Aunty Myrtle filed a missing person’s report with the police. It was two days later that Amelia was found wandering dazed and confused in the park by Aunty Myrtle’s house still wearing the sequence dress. When questioned by the police she had no recollection of who she was or how she had got there. 

Soon after that incident I moved to Loire, I was at an age when a young man has to think of a career and the prospect of making wine attracted me. After a few years in the sun, upon my return home, I saw the invitation with the initials MS embossed in gold, lying on my hallway console. My heart leapt in excitement as I read it.  

“A Murder is Pronounced. If you think you can be the next Sherlock or the next Hercule, then put on your detective hat and come to Gosvenor Park at 5pm this Friday and figure out ‘Who Dun it?’.” 

This was going to be fantastic! Not to sound immodest but I possessed an analytical and deductive brain, I would easily be able to figure out ‘Who Dun it?’. My pince-nez tucked safely in my pocket, donning my detective hat I headed to the party. Good old Jeeves ushered me into the familiar powder blue drawing room. I glanced around and found a few familiar faces. Ah.. there was old Potter sitting in his wheelchair, even the starlet of yesteryears was there…. what was her name again? Ah...yes Amelia. Still the same, her matronly body sheathed in a skin tight sequence dress. I recognized Woodini by the peacock feather pinned on the lapel of his coat. I had heard on the grapevine that unable to take the failure of his trick at that dreadful party, he had given up magic and was now a car salesman.

“Aunty Myrtle you like you are dressed for a funeral,” I laughed affectionately, as I kissed her soft wrinkled cheek. She was dressed in a somber black gown and wore an ostrich feather hat. She seemed to have grown even more eccentric with age. She chuckled and squeezed my hand affectionately. It was good to see the old bird again. 

The gong rang ceasing the chatter. Jeeves asked us all to gather by the fireplace, where we were informed that a fake murder would take place. We had to decipher the clues and solve the crime. Aunty Myrtle was to be the murder victim. If we so wished, we could choose a partner. I preferred to work alone as I did not want anyone to share my glory when I solved the crime. 

Then the gong rang again signifying that the deed had been done and that we now had a dead body. I searched through the rooms impatiently, looking around for my aunt. I wanted to be the first at the crime scene. 

Then I saw her in the study. She was sitting in her favorite armchair by the fireplace, her head thrown back and her arms hanging loose. Her wine glass lay shattered by the side of the chair, the wine creating a deep stain on the white rug. By Jove she was a good actor! 

I walked towards the armchair keeping an eye for detail. As I reached her, I noticed that that her eyes were shut; the flames from the fireplace were casting shadows on her face. It was only when I got much closer that I saw that there was some white powder at the edge of her mouth. 

Hmm…classic case of arsenic poisoning, I deduced taking a deep drag from my pipe. My sharp eyes noticed the twinkle of a sequence lying on the silk carpet at her feet. But wait a minute…was that a peacock feather stuck in the fold of the chair? Could it be that the murder was done in collaboration by Woodini and Amelia? Then I was stumped to see red stains of wheel tracks. What could that be?

I looked around the room and noticed old Potter in deep conversation with Amelia and Woodini. But of course, he is in it too! They saw me looking at them and looked away guiltily. Yes, it was definitely them. 

I touched Aunty's arm to let her know that I had solved the murder. But her arm was stone cold! My brain went numb. I started shaking her but her head just slumped on her chest. She was dead! Someone had actually killed my aunt! 

It had to be them. Those three huddled in the corner, whispering to each other looking at me fugitively. All three had a grudge. The clues don't lie. I walked up to them with purposeful strides, seething in anger. 

“You three killed my aunt,” I screamed. “Jeeves call the police.”

“Wait a minute old chap,” said Potter. “We did not kill her. We were working as a team but when we got close to her we too, found dead.” 

Could they be telling the truth? Who would have wanted my aunt dead? My mind was crammed by so many questions that I did not see Jeeves, till he was upon me. 

“Master Ollie, Ms. Myrtle had asked me to hand this to you.”

I opened the gold embossed envelope and read its contents.

“Dear Ollie,

The time has come to bid you adieu. My body is ransacked by that horrendous disease and I cannot bear the humiliation of ill health. I decide to go as I lived, on my own terms, with a final soiree. 

I leave to you the bulk of my worldly possessions.

Affectionately yours,

Myrtle.”