"That's what I remember. The word-buff bit."
"Yes," said Trumbull. "He's written books on acrostics and on novelty verse of all kinds. Conundrums involving word play and puns were a specialty of his. He's the one who got Roger Halsted interested in limericks."
Gonzalo laughed. "How did you stand it, Tom?"
Trumbull shrugged. "It wasn't the sole topic of conversation,
and I was younger then. However, Ralph remarried, as you probably remember, went to the West Coast, and we never heard from him again. Then Jim Drake and I found the Milano, and the Black Widowers has been here ever since, better than ever."
Henry refilled the coffee cups, and Gonzalo played a melodious tattoo on his water glass with his spoon.
"Jim," he said, "as the oldest member and the one who best knew Ralph Ottur in the old days when even Manny claims to have been a kid, would you do the grilling honors?"
James Drake lit a fresh cigarette and said, "Mr. Parris, how do you justify your existence?"
"At the moment," said Parris, "by attempting to make you somewhat richer than you have been hitherto. Or if not you, Dr. Drake, then another one of you."
"Don't you know which?"
"I'm afraid not, gentlemen. In order to know, I must complete the reading of the will."
"Will?.What will?" Drake took the cigarette from his mouth, placed it in an ashtray, and looked uneasy.
A heavy silence descended on the rest of the table. Henry, who had been serving brandy, desisted.
Parris said seriously, "I was instructed to say nothing concerning the matter till I was a guest at a Black Widowers' banquet and till I was being grilled. Not till this moment."
Drake said, "It
is
this moment. Go on."
Parris said, "I'm sorry to have to tell you that Mr. Ralph Ottur died last month. He had been pretty much of a recluse since his second wife died three years ago and, at his request, no announcement of his death was made. Though he had made a clean break with his life in New York after he left for California, he did not, apparently, forget his old friends of the Black Widowers. He asked that I hand out one of these to each of you, provided all six were present, and you all are."
Envelopes were passed out to each of the stunned Black Widowers. Each bore the name of a Black Widower in careful India ink lettering.
Drake muttered, "There's his monogram." Each envelope bore a stylized sketch of what was unmistakably an otter with a fish in its mouth.
Trumbull said, "Did we each get the same?"
Gonzalo said, "Read it and we'll see."
Trumbull hesitated, then read in a low monotone, " 'Well, don't sit there like idiots. There's no reason to get into a mood. Remember, "mood" spelled backward is "doom." I've been with you in spirit every month since I left, even if you haven't heard from me, and I'm with you again now, ready for our last game.' "
"That's what mine says," said Gonzalo.
There was a murmur of agreement from the rest.
"Well, then," said Parris briskly, "I'll now read the will—not the entire will, you understand, but only that portion that applies to the club. If you're ready . . ."
There was silence and Parris read, "It is my further wish and desire to make a bequest to the Black Widowers, a club I helped found and for the members of which I have always had a profound affection. Therefore, I wish to leave a sum of money, which, after taxes are paid, is to come to ten thousand dollars. This sum is to go to one of the following gentlemen, all of whom were members of the club at the last meeting I attended and all of whom, I believe, are still alive. They are: Thomas Trumbull, James Drake, Emmanuel Rubin, Geoffrey Avalon, Roger Halsted, and Mario Gonzalo."
Parris looked up and said, "For the record, there are six of you at the table and I believe you are the six whose names I have read off. Are there any discrepancies?"
Gonzalo said, "There is a seventh member. Henry, our waiter, is the best Black Widower of them all."
Halsted said, "He wasn't a member in Ralph's day. Hell, I can't believe he's dead. Do you remember that time he asked us to find a common English word that contained the letters 'ufa' in that order? It kept us quiet all that evening."
"Yes," said Drake, "and it was you who got it. That's why you remember."
Rubin said,
"Quiet!"
His straggly beard bristled. "I demand silence. The will hasn't been read yet. What does Ralph mean that
one
of us will get the money? Why only one and which one?"
Parris cleared his throat. "I don't know. It is at this point I have been instructed to open a small envelope labeled, 'One.' Here it is."
"Well, don't open it just yet," said Rubin violently. "Mario, you're the host, but listen to me. If any bequest were left to the club or to the six of us in equal division, that would be all right. To leave it to only one of us would, however, create hard feelings. Let's agree, then, that whoever gets the money sets up a fund for the use of the Black Widowers as an entity."
Gonzalo said, "I'm willing. Any arguments?"
There was none, and Gonzalo said, "Open the envelope, Mr. Parris."
Parris opened it, withdrew a three-by-five card, glanced at it, looked surprised, and said, "It says, 'To the barest.' "
"What?" said Trumbull indignantly.
Parris looked on the other side, shook his head, and said, "That's all it says. See for yourselves." The card was passed around.
Avalon chuckled and said, "Don't you get it? He said in his note there would be a last game and this is it."
"What kind of game?" said Gonzalo.
Rubin snorted and said, "Not one of his good ones. Go ahead and explain, Geoff."
Avalon looked solemn and said, "In the Greek myths, the sea nymph Thetis married the mortal Peleus, and to the wedding all the gods and goddesses were invited. The goddess of discord, Eris, was overlooked. Furious, she appeared unbidden and, into the happy throng, tossed a golden apple, then left. Hermes picked it up and noticed a small message attached. What it said was, 'To the fairest. Three goddesses at once reached for it—Hera, the queen of heaven; Athena, the goddess of wisdom; and Aphrodite, the Goddess of love and beauty. The quarrel that resulted ended in the Trojan War."
"Exactly," said Rubin, "and I suggest we not play Ralph's game. I don't know what the hell he means by the barest, but if we start arguing about which one of us qualifies for ten thousand dollars we will end with everyone of us aggrieved, winner and losers alike, even if we put the money into a fund. Earlier, Mr. Parris said that ideologs valued victory above survival, but I don't. I don't want to see the Black Widowers come to an end over the question of who wins ten thousand dollars."
"Hear, hear," said Gonzalo. "Even you say something sensible now and then, Manny. Lets agree that each one of us is in a six-way tie for barest, take the money, and put it into the fund."
"Excellent," said Avalon. "I don't see that there would be any objection to that."
Again, there was a silence, but Parris said, "I'm afraid my instructions were to allow discussion and then to open another small envelope marked 'Two.' " Gonzalo looked surprised and said, "Well, open it."
Parris opened the second envelope, removed a folded piece of paper, and unfolded it to find a single-spaced typewritten message. He glanced over it and chuckled.
He said, "Here is what it says: i have no doubt that Geoff Avalon, in his endearingly pedantic way, will have by now explained the connection of the message with the apple of discord at the wedding of Thetis and Peleus. ..."
Avalon, having flushed to his hairline, said stiffly, "I have never denied that I have a touch of pedantry about me. I trust that I have never been offensively so, or if I have, that I may count on my outspoken comrades of the Black Widowers to tell me so."
"Don't get defensive, Geoff," said Trumbull. "We're all pedants. Go on, Mr. Parris."
Parris nodded and said," '. . . of Thetis and Peleus. It may also be that someone, possibly Manny Rubin, will suggest that the game be refused and that the money be shared. Not so! Sorry to
insist, but only one person gets the money, and that person will be he who can demonstrate himself to be the barest to the satisfaction of the executor of the will. Failing that, no one of them will get the money. I dare say Geoff can explain the appropriateness of this, if he has not already done so."
Avalon cleared his throat and looked harassed. "I don't think it's necessary I do so."
Rubin said, "It's all right, Geoff. I'll take over. Everyone knows
I'm
no pedant."
"Not bright enough," muttered Gonzalo.
Rubin, glaring briefly at Gonzalo, said, "As Geoff said, three goddesses claimed that apple. Hermes, who had picked it up, could see at once that this was no place for an innocent god, and he absolutely declined to make a decision. One by one, the other gods also declined. After considerable discussion, someone suggested that some poor mortal be stuck with the task. The one selected was a shepherd boy on the slopes of Mount Ida near Troy.
"The three goddesses appeared to him in all their magnificence, and each, fearing she might not win in a fair contest, attempted to bribe the judge. Hera offered him world conquest; Athena offered him the crown of wisdom; and Aphrodite offered him the most beautiful girl in the world as his wife.
"The shepherd boy was young enough to find the third bribe the most attractive, and chose Aphrodite. Undoubtedly, she would have won in a fair contest of fairness, but it was a disastrous choice just the same. The most beautiful girl in the world was Helen, queen of Sparta, and the shepherd boy some years later carried her off with Aphrodite's help, and that started the Trojan War.
"The shepherd boy's name was Paris, and he was one of the fifty sons of Priam, king of Troy. The decision among the goddesses is a favorite scene among artists and is commonly referred to as 'The Judgment of Paris.' Clearly, Ralph couldn't resist playing on words and setting up 'The Judgment of Parris'—two r's."
Parris smiled and said, "I seem to have the worst of it. Instead of choosing among three glorious goddesses, I am faced with deciding among six not particularly attractive men."
Rubin said, "You're not faced with any decision at all, actually. Ralph can't make us play the game. If the only way we can get the ten thousand dollars is to compete for it, then I suggest we let the whole thing go. Ten thousand dollars is something we can live without—we have lived without it all these years. What we can’t live without is our mutual friendship."
Halsted looked regretful, "Well, now, we can use the money. It could defray part of the costs of the banquets. What with inflation, I, for one, am finding it difficult to cover the expenses. Since I'm the most nearly bald member of the group, can't we say I'm obviously the barest and let it go at that?"
Gonzalo said, "We could decide that 'barest' means 'the most nearly nude.’ Then I can strip to my underwear, collect, and we'll set up the fund."
"Oh God," said Rubin. "Look, I'd pay you ten thousand dollars, if I had it to spare,
not
to strip."
Drake said dreamily, "If we were ecdysiasts, it would all be simple. A nice six-way tie."
Parris said, "Now, gentlemen, wait. This is serious. I disapprove of wills such as this one, but I am the executor and I must treat it seriously. I don't know what Mr. Ottur means by the 'barest,' but it is undoubtedly something that is first, not obvious, and second, compelling. If one of you can demonstrate what is meant by 'barest' and then show compellingly that one or another of you is 'barest,' I will release the money. Otherwise I can't. Baldness and, for that matter, nudity, do not strike me as clever explanations of the meaning of the phrase. Try again."
"No, we won't," said Rubin. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Roger, for that baldness suggestion. If you need money that badly, I'll contribute to the payment when it's your turn to host."
Halsted turned red and he pointed an angry finger at Rubin, "I don't need money that badly; and I wouldn't come to you for help if I were starving."
Avalon said, "Well, the apple of discord is beginning to do its work, obviously. Manny is right. Let's let it go, while we're still on speaking terms."
Halsted frowned as he passed the palm of his hand over his high forehead, but he kept quiet.
Rubin muttered, "Sorry, Rog. I meant no offense."
Halsted waved a briefly forgiving hand.