Nadir hates these parties. He is not rich nor is he elite, or can he make things happen for the struggling and wanting to be famous. He's not the one you go to and meet at the crossroads and make a deal with.
Nadir also only holds a vague interest in art. Sure, he has a certain respect for those who do create, but Nadir is a man of the people. He's a beer guy. Suds for you and your buds. Not this wine and cheese and art gala, kind of guy.
He loves going to the game with his partner from work and their friends, Thom and Berry. He attends charity events and volunteers. That's what he prefers. That's what he wants to be doing.
He could be at the sports bar with Hadley, his work Erik, Thom and Berry, watching tonight's game. But no. He forgot he accepted the plus one invite. His Frenchies all asked him to be their plus one, separately obviously, but he got the point. They wanted him there.
Nadir has no idea what is happening. He's in a room. A room that is set up like a living room of a penthouse. The rug's top right corner is turned over, the sofa is on its side, and the living chair is missing a cushion and looks like it had been set on fire.
Nadir takes out his phone and texts to the group chat. He sends a photo and waits.
Hadley
You said you were at an "art thing"
Me:
This is the "art thing"
Berry:
It's a room. You're in a room.
Thom:
Plutocrats are weird. Get out before they feast on your soul!
Hadley
Thom's right. We need the diversity.
Thom
White people, man.
Jules walks over. He has been mingling and needs a break to be away from the socialite parasites.
"The party is in the other room." He says. Nadir nods to the furniture.
"This is the art, right?"
"Yes."
"I'm a reasonably intelligent person."
"Yeah?"
"I don't get it."
"I'm fucking brilliant and I don't get it either."
"Is it a commentary on something?"
They walk closer. There is a placard in front of the "exhibit."
"Don't smoke?"
"The chair does look burnt."
Nadir and Jules read the description.
"Bad Sandwich."
They remain puzzled.
"Domestic violence?" Jules suggests. He gives the, what the hell, gesture.
"The husband had a rage and set the chair on fire?"
"Comes in from the kitchen, turns over the sofa," Nadir walks around the sofa. He likes to physically walk through scenarios. Comes from his years as a police officer.
"Then he goes to the chair," he walks over to the chair.
"Falls asleep. Catches fire, puts it out?" Jules finishes.
"Is he dead?"
"I don't know, maybe he tripped?" Jules indicates the corner of the rug.
"The body had to be carried out at some point. The wife?"
"Wait, how would she transfer the body without a mess?" Nadir looks around the floor.
"Maybe there were two rugs." They both search for evidence of a second rug.
"If you were Margot, where you put the second rug?"
"Margot? Thinking more of a Celine."
"Celine has a chef, an entire staff. Margot is a do it yourself kind of woman."
"Okay. Henri is an alcoholic, because of course he is, so he probably drank before smoking, so he went to the mini bar."
"That she got rid of because she hated it."
"So, maybe." Nadir walks to the left, looking closely at the floor.
"Here. Margot would put it here." He points. Jules takes off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves.
"So, Henri comes home," He runs around the sofa.
"Margot greets him. "Hello dear," Nadir says his voice higher.
He takes his blazer off and throws it off somewhere to the side.
"Make me a drink, woman." Jules says in German. Nadir goes to the bar and pantomimes going though the motions of mixing a drink and handing it over.
"I wish you didn't drink so much."
"Shut up, you fool woman. Now go make me a sandwich."
"She killed him!" Nadir says, inspired and excited. Jules 'oooooos'
"Sick of his abuse!"
"He's dying!" Jules starts to stumble around the room, he touches the sofa, pretends that he pushed it over.
"The chair." Nadir says.
"But the fire."
Jules stops.
"We'll figure this out."
An hour passes.
Jules and Nadir are lying on their stomachs trying to piece it together.
"So far what we know is that Henri at some point flipped the sofa over and died."
"Margot disposed of the body with the second rug."
"The chair is what we need to fig."
Jules lights up a cig.
"Maybe he was smoking."
"Comes in smoking, drinks, passes out."
Charles comes in from the other room.
"There you two are."
"Then she put out the fire?" Nadir and Jules ignore Charles.
"Not for him. She didn't want the entire penthouse to go down in flames."
"What are you two talking about?"
"Margot and Henri!" Jules says irritably.
"Who?"
"Margot and Henri." Nadir says.
"Yeah, but who are these people."
"Uh, hello!" Jules gestures around the room.
"What?"
Sorelli walks over like a sad Charlie Brown.
"They ran out of those little cocktail weenies."
"So, what about Margot and Henri?"
"Margot may have killed her husband, Henri." Nadir says.
"When?"
"We missed a murder. Boo!" She pouts.
Charles understands now.
"You know this is an advert for a new vacuum for Dyson, right?"
Nadir and Jules curse.
"I wasted an hour of my life for this!?"
"I'm going to Hadley's." Nadir storms off.
"Wait, so there was no murder?"
"I have no idea what is happening." Charles shakes his head confused.