The Return of the Black Widowers by Isaac Asimov

to save his life. ... I'm glad you didn't use Venus in place of Aphrodite, Roger. There's too much of the use of Roman analogues."
    Halsted, through a full mouth, said, "I wanted to avoid the temptation of obvious rhyming."
    "Didn't you ever read the Iliad, Mario?" asked James Drake.
    "Listen," said Gonzalo, "I'm an artist. I have to save my eyes."
    It was with dessert on the table that Halsted said, "Okay, let me explain what I have in mind. The last four times we met, there's been some sort of crime that's come up every discussion, and in the course of that discussion, it's been solved."
    "By Henry," interrupted Drake, stubbing out his cigarette.
    "All right, by Henry. But what kind of crimes? Rotten crimes. The first time I wasn't here, but I gather the crime was a robbery, and not much of one either, from what I understand. The second time, it was worse. It was a case of cheating on an examination, for heaven's sake."
    "That's not such a minor thing," muttered Drake.
    "Well, it's not exactly a major thing. The third time—and I was here then—it was theft again, but a better one. And the fourth time it was a case of espionage of some sort."
    "Believe me," said Trumbull, "that wasn't minor."
    "Yes," said Halsted in his mild voice, "but there was no violence anywhere. Murder, gentlemen, murder!"
    "What do you mean, murder?" asked Rubin.
    "I mean that every time we bring a guest, something minor turns up because we take it as it comes. We don't deliberately invite guests who can offer us interesting crimes. In fact, they're not even supposed to offer us crimes at all. They're just guests."
    "So?"
    "So there are now six of us present, no guests, and there must be one of us who knows of some killing that's a mystery and—"
    "Hell!" said Rubin in disgust. "You've been reading Agatha Christie. We'll each tell a puzzling mystery in turn and Miss Marple will solve it for us. . . . Or Henry will."
    Halsted looked abashed. "You mean they do things like that—"
    "Oh, God," said Rubin emotionally.
    "Well, you're the writer," said Halsted. "I don't read murder mysteries."
    "That's your loss," said Rubin, "and it shows what an idiot you are. You call yourself a mathematician. A proper mystery is as mathematical a puzzle as anything you can prepare and it has to be constructed out of much more intractable material."
    "Now wait a while," said Trumbull. "As long as we're here, why don't we see if we can dig up a murder?"
    "Can you present one?" said Halsted hopefully. "You're with the government, working on codes or whatever. You must have been involved with murder, and you don't have to name names. You know that nothing gets repeated outside these walls."
    "I know that better than you," said Trumbull, "but I don't know about any murders. I can give you some interesting code items but that's not what you're after. . . . How about you, Roger? Since you bring this up, I suppose you have something up your sleeve. Some mathematical murder?"
    "No," said Halsted thoughtfully, "I don't think I can recall being involved in a single murder."
    "You don't think? You mean there's a doubt in your mind?" asked Avalon.
    "I guess I'm certain. How about you, Jeff? You're a lawyer."
    "Not the kind that gets murderers for clients," Avalon said, with an apparently regretful shake of his head. "Patent complications are my thing. You might ask Henry. He's more at home with crimes than we are, or he sounds it."
    "I'm sorry, sir," said Henry softly as he poured the coffee with practiced skill. "In my case, it is merely theory. I have been fortunate enough never to be involved with violent death."
    "You mean," said Halsted, "that with six of us here—seven, counting Henry—we can't scare up a single murder?"
    Drake shrugged. "In my game, there's always a good chance of death. I haven't witnessed one in the chem lab personally, but there've been poisonings, explosions, even electrocutions. At worst, though, it's murder through negligence. I can't tell you