A most unwelcome New Year's guest.

"Oh, so you're here for New Year, Commissioner?" Sarah eyed her fellow guest. Silver-haired, distinguished-looking, eminent, he must have been a catch for the party hosts.
"Well, yes," Sir John replied. "We usually go on safari - somewhere really remote - but as the High Commission's recommendation was to stay put and not travel, I thought I'd better take my own advice. Set an example, y'know."
"Yes, that has put a bit of a damper on the holidays," agreed Sarah. "It's been quite tricky travelling lately as it is, but of course we're safe enough here in town."
The man opposite didn't reply and Sarah realized his attention had wandered across the room. The police chief was also present. She smiled. "Well, if you'll excuse me...?" Sir John nodded as she moved away. Glancing back, Sarah noticed that he had already gone to talk to the policeman, seeming to be engaged in earnest discussion. She and her fellow guests would certainly be safe in such company.
The party carried on in full swing, sombre topics of escalating food prices, hijackings and the dishonesty of servants jostling with boasting about golf handicaps, children, fashion and gossip. Midnight came, when all talk was drowned by the gunfire of champagne corks popping and fireworks exploding.
The next morning, the usual clearing up revealed that there had been unwelcome visitors. Elderly Mrs Mitchell next door had been robbed at gunpoint. Shot and killed by a most unwelcome New Year's guest.