Hosting A Murder

On Monday I hosted a murder. It was set on June 13, 1940, on the last train leaving Paris before the Nazis invaded. Everyone came in costume befitting the character they were assigned.

Among the guests were the gangster, the journalist, and the secret agent.

We also had the spoiled perfume heiress, the princess of a minor European country, and a courturiere extraordinaire. 

As the train left, we had drinks and discovered the dead body. Ack!

During the five course meal, we asked each other questions, trying to artfully dodge the questions posed to us. Everyone has a motive to commit the murder and you can't lie about the information revealed about your character in your secret dossier. 

We opened secret clues and looked over diagrams of the murder scene while wondering which clues were red herrings. And who the guilty party really was. 

(Note two other players, the Duke with the eye patch and the RAF Captain.)

Several of the participants had acting experience and were able to stay in character and play up the campy aspects of the game--I haven't laughed so much in months.

At the end of the party, we all had to make our accusations. Two people guessed correctly. I was not one of them. Grumble, grumble.

Our fourth course was this decadent dulce de leche torte. (Are you wondering what the fifth course was? Chocolate!)

We're already planning our next Murder Dinner and trying to decide between "The Chicago Caper" and "Roman Ruin."

Murder, Death, and Mayhem

Once a month, we have an open house for college students (anywhere from 10 to 40 students attend). After a time of prayer and food, the games begin. Sometimes we play a game with paper and pens that leads to peals of laughter—I know that’s a bit hard to imagine, but it’s a P2C2E (a process too complicated to explain).

The other game we play is Mafia. Basically, it involves secrecy and killing people. After each death, the people who are still alive (no doubt Sicilian peasants) decide/guess who the guilty party is and kill them. The game has a “narrator” who explains the details of each murder, which are generally more gruesome than your average murder mystery. The chemistry majors always come up with new explosions. The lit people describe in detail how brakes are tampered with and cars drive off the edge of Lookout Mountain. My favorite death last night was “how Dan was disemboweled and strangled with his own intestines.” A long conversation ensued between the biology people about whether someone would survive a disembowelment long enough to be strangled.

I became the subject of a discussion last night when three people were left alive. I tried to convince Stellie that Duncan was the Mafioso, not me. Stellie said, “But, Mrs. Keller, the last time you were the mafia, you killed off your husband and all your children and you looked innocent then too.” She killed me.

I always love it when one of the college students (frequently Karin) gets a call from her parents.

Cellphone rings.
Karin: Hi, Dad/Mom.
Pause.
Karin: No, I’m at the Kellers.
Pause.
Karin: We’re playing mafia.
Pause.
Karin: It’s a game. I’ll explain later.
After she tells them good-bye and hangs up, she says, “My parents don’t understand.”

Eventually, Karin will graduate, and we will meet her parents. How awkward that might be…
Me to Karin’s mom: Hello, it’s so nice to meet you.
Karin’s mom: So, you’re the people who play Mafia.
Me: Uh, yeah.
KM: So, you encourage our children to dream up all manner of murder.
Me: Sort of. But we pray first.
KM (nods)
Me: Karin really likes my salsa. Would you like the recipe?

Here are a couple of pictures.