Murder in the Great Hall

[LadyGriffin]

Griffen, Griffen! I know you stick to that silly attorney confidence think, but REALLY darling, don't you think you could just share a little tidbit? Oh, of course you know what the "big announcement" is going to be, and you wouldn't want little old me to have to be kept waiting. After all, it's not like I'm one of the regular guests. Why, I'm nearly the hostess. Oh, have to run Darling, Ta Ta.

Now now, first of all my name is Ms. Griffin, with an "i", not Griffen! I am Mr. Panache's laywer. Next, don't any of you even THINK of trying to get me to tell you what Mr. Panache is going to announce tonight. Very important stuff, mind you, very important!
Confidentiality, you know. A man with such an announcement should be patiently waited for. Such information should only be reveled in the right place the right time. And this certainly is the place. My my, what a wonderful shade of pink on those table cloths over there. Must have been placed just in his honor, my, my. No time to chat - much, much to do, much to do..

*bends over small ever-present notebook and starts scribbling furiously, glancing cagily around*

[starbkjrus]

<strolling back from the drinks table in a much better mood>

Hello again Arlen. I'm afraid that I was a bit hasty earlier but I was rather exercised with Mr. Panache. So far a couple of drams have relieved my angst about the rouche tie.

<Arlen - sheepishly looking around> No problem. I know how he can be when the F.H.C.A.G. is not around. I am indeed enjoying married life but we do live in Idaho. Battered, deep fried, Idaho potatoes au gratin flambe' actually add some pounds but I'm very happy.

Now about your outfit..........

[starbkjrus]

Well other than my outfit don't you feel a bit more.....tension in the air tonight? Ms. Pleater and Mr. Livingston seem more than a bit out of sorts. Even Mr. Tibbles seems to be chewing on more things than usual.

I guess we'll just have to be even more watchful.

Meanwhile can I get you anything from the drinks table?!? I see Colin there. Maybe he's seen Mr. Panache.

[Coemgen]

Mr. Coemgen enters by shoving the door open, crushing Spasm. He proceeds to crush Spasm's right foot underneath a leather attaché case.

Mumbling various obscenities and profanities under his breath, he removes his leather coat and cap, an old black Hornburg that has seen better days, thrusting them at the old retainer.

He speaks in a very overpronounced fashion, barely able to conceal his native "street language," which unfortunately burst out when he gets angry, much to the confusion of anyone who overhears it.

Blast you, take my coat and hat, you insane fossil!

Ahem.

Good evening everyone. Awful weather, isn't it? Had the worst time getting up the mountain in my Rolls Royce.

He glances quickly around the room

Ah! Mr. Livingston! I brought the file you requested from your office. My word! You have some lint on your jacket! Here, let me brush that off for you. Allow me to get you a drink, Mr. Livingston!

Spinning 'round to Spasm

You! Get a glass of your finest single malt for Mr. Livingston, and a bottle of Jack Daniels for me! Bring them within one minute, or I shall smack your dooie up the St. Mick's road with a bike's-head! Snipity, now!

I'm sorry for that little outburst, Mr. Livingston. Good help is just so hard to find these days.

[Clockwork John]

Mr. Coemgen. Good to see you again. That was, um, quite an entrance. What brings you to the hall tonight? I heard there was supposed to be some kind of announcement or something... Do you know anything about that? I haven't heard a word. I'm surprised I was even invited tonight, after the um... "falling out" Mr. Panache and I had... Oh well... Can you tell me where I can find a good single malt around here?

[Coemgen]

My dear Mr. John, how are you doing this fine evening?

I've just popped over to give Mr. Livingston my full support in his endeavours tonight, whatever they may be. He, in his infinite wisdom, has not deigned even to acknowledge their existence to me; however, as his most dedicated assistant, I am anticipating his every move, in the hope of getting a big fat raise.

Mr. Coemgen fails to realise he spoke that last bit out loud

Speaking of single malt, where is that most annoying antique of a poor excuse for a domestic servant!? Mr. Livingston needs his single malt! And I need some Jack! Damn cold weather. You'd think a place this bloody upper class could afford some central heating. My kilt is practically frozen to my skin!

Mr. Coemgen wanders off in search of Spasm and some strong liquor

[Pleater]

At last a good black rum, and a large glass - oh two of them. Right, I'll hold, you pour.

Thank you Spasm you dear old codger. Veis heil!

Hows the old trouble, eh? Did that lotion help?

No use pulling a face - oh you drank it, no - its supposed to be rubbed on, using gloves. Have another go, the recipe comes highly recommended.

Good stuff this - oh - yes it should be - I've not seen a bottle with that label for donkey's years.

Damn them that abolished the tot, eh?

Lets have another - its quite cosy here behind the curtains next to the radiator.

Shussh. Here comes that - that - Coemgen fellow.

Look out there Mr Tibbles - he's an opposite order trained badger, I believe. Yes. I thought so. Let go, leave, lie down, you bastard.

(Mr Tibbles reveals his sharp white teeth in a good imitation of Spasm's manic grin and scampers out in search of ankles.)

My, look at him go. Impressive turn of speed.

What's that you've got? Oh another bottle. Right, bottoms up then.

I ran into Blanco Wainwright the other day - remember him? Just got married for the third time. I said, Blanco ol'boy, you're supposed to get a divorce from the last one not keep them on in case you're ever bored, and he said, he said, I never could get the hang of serial data, even when I was training. Oh my. What a lad eh?

OK - lets follow Blanco's lead and do the triple.

[unaspenser]

Ugh! I can't *believe* all the drinking and cavorting going on here. Don't you people KNOW what alcohol does to your chi?! You need your energies re-aligned and fast. Now, where's a girl to get a perrier and some celery sticks in this joint?

I would like to re-iterate that I am here ALONE, and my darling husband Arlen is not here yet. How thoughtless of him to allow me to arrive un-escorted! I certainly hope Arlen joins us soon!

[LadyGriffin]

Una Darling! I could not help but overhear you lamenting for some food of the more "healthy" variety. I have a small stash here that Spasm brought me earlier. I suppose I could share. You can pay me back later. Odd man, that Spasm.

I hear you are a dancer. How is that going for you? Do you need any legal advice? Here’s my card. I’m not free, mind you. Quality costs, you know! I have excellent references. Here is a list of a few of the *Important People* I have assisted and a basic outline of my fees for each type of advice.

Ms. Griffin shows Unaspencia a page from her notebook

Don’t choke on that carrot stick, my dear! Do you need some more Perrier? Perhaps a cup of tea? You look a bit pale. Funny, your expression almost matches what Panache looked like when I gave him my bill. Then again, he fainted. I had to toss his glass of sherry on him to rouse him. Lucky he was wearing his pink kilt. Hope those stains came out. Too bad about the dent in his pith helmet, it did fair better than that bookcase he fell against.

I came highly recommended to him, you know. His father’s cousin’s roommate in college’s son gave him my name. Breathing better now? Good! Hate to chat and run, must mingle. Business opportunities don’t create themselves.

Ta Da!

[Coemgen]

Reappearing with a newly opened bottle of Jack Daniels, Coemgen winds his way through the crowd, mumbling under his breath

Bloody upper class twits never worked a hard day's work in their lives the bloody great arrogant old moneyed leeches ought to be strung up the lot of them …

He pauses, overhearing Mrs. Griffin talking to Unaspenser. A smile not wholly unlike that of the Cheshire Cat crosses his face. If you looked close enough, you would swear there were dollar signs in his eyes.

Ah, Mrs. Griffin! I was hoping to speak to you! I wish to offer my services as a paralegal for your firm. I'm fully qualified - I have a copy of my certifications right here- and I work for a very small percentage of the final cost; I never go for more than 40%. Why I …

Hmmm. She runs surprisingly fast.

Continues to himself:

Don't see any other opportunities in here. I suppose I'll just wait until Panache comes down to make his oh-so-important announcement. Bloody arrogant twit thinks he's better than everyone else in his fancy clothes and his fancy titles and his oh-so-witty stories I bet he's never had to fight for his supper or work twelve hours a day just to get a chance at succeeding in this world not than anyone ever cared always with mum it was "your dad never went to college why should you" and that bloody …

Continuing with inaudible mumbling, he goes over to the fireplace and sits in a chair as far away from anyone else as he can, gulping down the whiskey and staring fixedly into the fire as various shades of anger, despair, regret, and resolve cross his face in infinite combinations, like waves across a beach.