Murder by the Book

"Oyez, oyeth," said Helen Troy.

"This," I said, "is a democracy. No one can shove anything down people's throats, not even Fritz's salad. As your host and by no means unknown admirer, I want you to have a good time and go away from here saying, 'Archie Goodwin can be trusted. He had us at his mercy, but he gave us a chance to say yes or no.' "

"Yes!" Blanche Duke called.

"Thank you." I inclined my head. "I was about to ask, how many feel like eating salad? If you want it, Fritz will enjoy serving it. But what if you don't? Yes or no?"

There were six or seven noes.

"Do you still say yes, Miss Duke?"

"My God, no. I didn't know you meant salad."

"Then we'll skip it. However, I won't ask for a vote on the almond parfait. You should taste it, at least." I turned to Fritz, at my elbow. "That's how it is, Fritz."

"Yes, sir," He started removing plates still loaded with his duckling, one of his best dishes. I wasted no sympathy on him because I had warned him. I have had much more opportunity than he has to learn the eating habits of American females. At an affair of the Society of Gourmets that duckling would have drawn cheers.

Their reaction to the almond parfait made up for it some. In their relaxed condition they were more or less ignoring the code, and a couple of them took spoonfuls while Fritz was still serving. Portia Liss exclaimed, "Oh! It's absolutely heavenly! Isn't it, Mrs. Adams?"

"I can't say, Portia. I haven't any."

But a few minutes later she conceded grudgingly, "It's remarkable. Quite remarkable."

Others had extravagant comments. Helen Troy finished first. She arose and shoved her chair back and put her palms on the table to lean on. Her pimples were purple now instead of pink.

"Oyeth, oyeth," she said.

"Who's making a speech?" someone demanded.

."I am. This is my maiden effort."

Someone tittered.

"My maiden effort," she insisted, "at my age. I've been thinking what we can do for Mr. Goodwin and I'm standing up to put it in the form of a motion. I move that one of us goes and puts her arms around Mr. Goodwin's neck and kisses him and calls him Archie."

"Which one?" Mabel Moore demanded.

"We'll vote on it. I nominate me. I'm already up."