The doors of the guesthouse had closed, and it seemed as though everyone who was supposed to come had already arrived.
Everyone sat around the dining table, looking at the corpse under the black cloth that had its brain scooped out.
"The killer is among us. I hope he won't struggle in vain, nor harbor any illusions of luck. It would be in everyone's best interest if he came forward and admitted his guilt. If we catch him ourselves, the punishment won't be simple," the police officer said, with his hands spread open, propping against the dining table. He was the only one standing in the room, looking down at the other guests, as if to assert his authority.
"Why are you so certain the killer is among us?" the middle-aged screenwriter kept questioning the police officer. "Is it possible the killer left the guesthouse after committing the murder?"
