The lights return but a man is dead.
Everyone in the room is stunned.
The host shouts, “Mr. Koech!”
We take it that’s the victim’s name
And this hotel is where he’d been staying.
Shock fills the room, some have heads in hand.
None more visibly devastated than the diner who seemed to know the man.
“Oh mon Dieu!” he screams.
A Frenchman it seems.
Then the host shouts at his colleague,
“Quick call the police!”
As the diners seem like they wish to leave.
“No one move!” adds the experienced head.
“Someone in this room is likely the reason the Mr. Koech is dead.”
And soon we’re all trying to figure out who’s who in the room.
We already know the victim’s name,
A wealthy businessman the host explains.
And for a moment, a few wonder where they’d heard the name before.
But who else is here?
The question is asked and suspicious looks are passed.
The host presents himself.
“My name is Henry and I’ve worked here for sixteen years.”
The waiter then says, “Mine is Kenneth and this is my first week here.”
Murmurs are heard between the Frenchman and the translator,
Likely curious of what’s going on.
“Je me nomme Claude. Claude Daner,” the Frenchman says.
“This is Mr. Daner,” the translator explains.
“Mr. Daner is here on business. Oh, and Louis is my name.”
“And I’m Philip Sif,” says the third party at the table of three.
“But most people call me Phil.”
And finally, there’s me, Ivan.
Just a man having his dinner, nothing more than a bystander.
Though something still bothers some about the victim’s name.
I know, Google will explain.
*If you would like to read and/or listen to the previous chapter of this story, click on the next page.*