One mystery between the main course and the check.
For a private dinner in Brunswick’s Old Town, ask the restaurant whether your room is still yours after dessert. If the answer is yes, let the guests keep their seats. I can give one diner an object to examine, ask another to watch my hands, and let the far end of the table decide which witness to believe. I don’t need a stage. I do need the person at the far end to see more than the back of a flower arrangement.
If the kitchen needs the room back, do the magic during drinks at a side table instead. Two or three friends can stop for a hand at a time, and the host can call everybody to supper without interrupting a story in the middle. Send the room entrance if you’re near Newcastle Street; the landmark where everybody is meeting for a walk may be several doors away from dinner.
For the hosts who want the mystery to last all night.
At a private house, you can make my two-hour theatrical comedy séance the evening’s main event instead. Plan for around ten to fifteen adults if the table fits them comfortably. I bring the haunted stories with me; the building needn’t have a reputation, and the host needn’t sacrifice the security deposit to acquire one. Tell me which version sounds like your friends when you text for a date.