The night of the murder
What happened so far:
At the Frost & Flamme restaurant, Jonas Keller was preparing for an important Christmas dinner attended by city leaders and sponsors. The dining room was perfectly prepared, but Jonas felt the pressure, as a single mistake could jeopardize his career. A silent screen showed him and his partner, while a Christmas song played in the background, ready to be played on demand, which bothered him every year. Despite the outward perfection and his model of success, he was aware of the fragile nature of his success.
The noise of the crowded restaurant was like a warm coat under which it sweated uncomfortably. Glasses clinked, cutlery clanged, somewhere someone laughed too loudly. Jonas glided between the tables, the perfect host's smile on his face, while in the kitchen the clock of his nerves was beating.
Today there was no turning back. Charity dinner, press, the mayor at the table of honour. Everything he had worked on was focused on this evening. And to the man who stood at the front of the small stage.
His partner enjoyed every look. Golden tie, red pocket square, microphone in hand as if it were a scepter. Jonas saw him waving over to the music system. A waiter pressed a button.
The first notes of the song cut through the babble of voices. This melody that started like a bad joke and never got better. Faces turned, some recognized them, smiled with amusement. His partner raised his hand, demanded applause, announced "our Christmas hit".
Jonas felt something tightening inside him. The camera of a local reporter glided briefly over his face, presumably capturing a smile that felt like a mask.
A little later, as he stood backstage in the narrow corridor, he heard the chorus booming through the wall. Every bar reminded him of who owned this stage – and who didn't.
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