Champagne for One

It came in less than half an hour. I had finished the oiling job and was putting the guns in their drawer in my desk when the phone rang. A voice I recognized said she was Mrs Robilotti’s secretary and Mrs Robilotti wished to speak with me, and I said, "Is it jewellery again, Miss Fromm?" and she said, "She will tell you what it is, Mr Goodwin."

Then another voice, also recognized. "Mr Goodwin?"

"Speaking."

"My nephew Austin Byne says he phoned you."

"I guess he did."

"You guess he did?"

"The voice said it was Byne, but it could have been a seal trying to bark."

"He has laryngitis. He told you so. Apparently you haven’t changed any. He says that he asked you to take his place at dinner at my home this evening, and you said you would if I invited you. Is that correct?"

I admitted it.

"He says that you are acquainted with the nature and significance of the affair."

"Of course I am. So are fifty million other people-or more."

"I know. I regret the publicity it has received in the past, but I refuse to abandon it. I owe it to my dear first husband’s memory. I am inviting you, Mr Goodwin."

"Okay. I accept the invitation as a favour to your nephew. Thank you."

"Very well." A pause. "Of course it is not usual, on inviting a dinner guest, to caution him about his conduct, but for this occasion some care is required. You appreciate that?"

"Certainly."

"Tact and discretion are necessary."

"I’ll bring mine along," I assured her.

"And of course refinement."

"I’ll borrow some." I decided she needed a little comfort. "Don’t worry, Mrs Robilotti, I understand the set-up and you can count on me clear through to the coffee and even after. Relax. I am fully briefed. Tact, discretion, refinement, black tie, seven o’clock."

"Then I’ll expect you. Please hold the wire. My secretary will give you the names of those who will be present. It will simplify the introductions if you know them in advance."

Miss Fromm got on again. "Mr Goodwin?"

"Still here."

"You should have paper and pencil."

"I always have. Shoot."

"Stop me if I go too fast. There will be twelve at table. Mr and Mrs Robilotti. Miss Celia Grantham and Mr Cecil Grantham. They are Mrs Robilotti’s son and daughter by her first husband."

"Yeah, I know."

"Miss Helen Yarmis. Miss Ethel Varr. Miss Faith Usher. Am I going too fast?"

I told her no.

"Miss Rose Tuttle. Mr Paul Schuster. Mr Beverly Kent. Mr Edwin Laidlaw. Yourself. That makes twelve. Miss Varr will be on your right and Miss Tuttle will be on your left."