The Body in the Bouillon by Katherine Hall Page

Everybody does. My mother, God rest her soul, thought Edsel was classy, but then she had never seen the car.”
    Faith laughed. “Well, I hear they are becoming highly collectible. I suppose it’s another example of if you wait long enough, whatever you’re holding on to will come back in fashion.” This was not one of her maxims but Tom’s, and in his case it was more like continual use, rather than stockpiling, say, one’s old Diors until hems went up or down again.
    â€œCould I ‘collect’ you for the next dance, Mrs. Fairchild?”
    It wasn’t that he was unattractive, and he was probably a good dancer. Men like Eddie usually were. But Faith didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction of an acceptance. It was clearly why he had come to the table. Besides, the line was too corny.

    â€œPerhaps later, thank you. I’m a bit tired now,” she told him.
    â€œTime to go to the bench then. How about you, Muriel?”
    The man was either a cad or an oaf or both. Donald was drinking a glass of champagne and his hand trembled. Faith half expected him to fling the contents at Eddie and declare, “That is my sister, suh, whom you impugn!” She also expected Muriel to decline—potitety of course but, Faith hoped, with some frostiness.
    None of these things happened. Donald put the glass down and Muriel rose with alacrity and danced off in Eddie’s arms.
    That left Faith and Donald, and just as she was about to ask about Eddie Russell’s duties—he being clearly the first real fly in the ointment she’d found at Hubbard House—Donald excused himself. Faith got up quickly, since there is nothing so pathetic as one person sitting alone at a table with a lot of partially consumed food and drinks, and made her way back to her own table. She passed Eddie and Muriel. His eyes were half closed and he was humming along to the music; hers were wide open.
    She sat down next to Tom.
    â€œWhere have you been? They played ‘Windmills of My Mind.’”
    Tom could be very sentimental. He still thought A Man and a Woman was one of the greatest movies of all time and got choked up when Kermit sang “The Rainbow Connection.”
    â€œI was talking to the Hubbards and met the guy who’s in charge of buildings and grounds at Hubbard House—”
    Whatever Faith was going to say about Eddie was lost as the Oval Room plunged into sudden darkness. A woman screamed, and almost as quickly as they had gone off, the lights went on again. It was as if a reel of film had broken in the middle and, when the projector started again, it started in a freeze frame. Everyone stood poised in position.
Most were facing the direction of the scream. Since her mouth was opened for another, Charmaine was the obvious source. Perhaps she saw Muriel’s palm ready to slap her sillier, or perhaps she decided Camille was a more touching act. Whatever the reason, she snapped her lips closed and swooned into a chair. Donald bent anxiously over her. Faith’s first impulse was to dash over to the Hubbard table, lift the cloth, and search for a body beneath. Instead she looked around to see who was where. There was general movement now, and Dr. Hubbard was striding over to the microphone. Donald was attending to Charmaine. Muriel was watching her father. Eddie was nowhere in sight. No one was missing from Faith’s table with the exception of Denise.
    Dr. Hubbard had the microphone and his voice was bracingly reassuring. “One of the staff has been a little overzealous in turning down the lights for our pudding procession,” he told the crowd. “I think we’re ready to begin now.”
    The lights dimmed appropriately and waiters suitably liveried marched out bearing silver salvers of flaming plum pudding surrounded by holly wreaths. The pale-blue flames reflected in the mirrored doors that encircled the room, and the effect was lovely. An