DIAL M FOR MURDER

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So there I was, sitting next to a murderer. All I could think was, “Man, she makes some good lasagna.”

I know what you’re thinking. And you should be ashamed. But I also know what else you’re thinking, and that’s that I am making less sense than usual.

The reason I sat next to a lasagna-making murderer is that I attended a murder mystery dinner party. Some friends invited us, along with two other couples, to attend the event.

I had never been to one of these parties before, but I was somewhat familiar with them. My familiarity came from several very bad movies in which these types of parties are held and one of the participants is actually killed, which made me more than a little hesitant to want to attend.

MY WIFE: This will be so much fun!!!

ME: Yeah, until I get shot in the back with a crossbow.

MY WIFE: Sigh.

Once my wife assured me that there would not be an actual murder, she explained the general premise of the event. The idea at these is that you are assigned a character for the evening, and you may or may not be the murderer. You are fed little bits of information about yourself and the other characters throughout the evening. Based on conversations with the other players, you have to determine who the murderer is, and how it was done.

Now, some of you may think that you would not be able to play a character for several hours with seven of your friends. But let me remind you that the first hour of the game is spent having hors d’oeuvres. And by hors d’oeuvres I mean beer.

The murder was set in the 1920s, and all of the players were assigned various unsavory underworld personas. I was a Chicago district attorney. Based on my dossier, the only thing that separated me from the criminal element was where I stood in the courtroom. I was actually one of the more reprehensible characters. The others were crooked and shady, but at  least they were honest about it.

One of the more entertaining parts was the costumes. Part of the allure of this kind of evening is that you fully immerse yourself in the character. It is imperative that you do this kind of thing with people you don’t mind acting like a bit of a goofball around. We had a flapper, a baseball player, a gambler, a golfer, a reporter, a lounge singer and an owner of a ... ahem ... house of leisure. I donned my most 1920s-district-attorneyish garb, which was a blue suit (complete with a vest my wife bought for $3 that very possibly broke several ribs; I now know what it’s like to wear a corset) and fedora. My wife also convinced me to let her slick my hair back. When she was done, I looked like Pat Riley’s criminally insane son. Note to self: Go with towel-dried hair only.

As we went through the game, the intertwined relationships of all of the characters became more and more complex.

I was not only interested in becoming the crime boss of Chicago, I was also having affairs with people, hiring others to kill and gambling large amount of money. Actually, it’s just like my life now, except for the criminal element, affairs, hired assassins and gambling.

Toward the end of the game, most everyone had formulated their opinions on who the murderer was. I, being the savvy lawyer/potential crime boss I was, guessed horribly wrong. I was off with motives and methods. I would have been closer to the truth had I suggested the Baldwin brothers had done it.

Two people guessed the correct murderer, meaning six of us would be fantastic to have on a jury if you are accused of murder. Everyone in the courtroom will know your guilt, but the six of us will be demanding the judge round up Alec (he’s the ringleader, you know).

Despite the fact that I guessed completely wrong about the murderer, I have to say it was a blast. Everyone stayed in character throughout, and it made for quite a compelling game of whodunit. I am looking forward to playing again soon. I am convinced that the next time I will be able to identify the murderer in no time flat. I’ll just find out who made the lasagna.