The first questions began to emerge while Fred had only one desire: to leave!
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The press conference did not drag on, and Fred entered his office to gather his thoughts. Why him, why Franck? A ton of questions swirled in his overactive mind. It was clear that by the next day, the news would be all over the local and national press. An outgoing mayor’s running mate murdered by the serial killer of Nice’s chefs, there was no doubt that the information would make ink and saliva flow by the liter. And all of this, less than a week before the first round of municipal elections, he thought… Fred could already imagine the sensational headlines he would see the next morning at the newsstand across from his home.
“Fred, we’re all meeting in the large hall.” Céline had poked her head through the frosted glass of her boss’s office, not forgetting to knock.
“I’m coming right away, Céline,” Fred replied, still a bit groggy.
Everyone was seated when Fred entered the meeting room and launched the discussions: “I think our killer made his first mistake! I don’t think Franck was the right victim, and I’m convinced it has something to do with the show ‘Un dîner presque parfait’ that Franck recently won a few weeks ago. This means our suspect knew about the show and the recipe Franck concocted. The kicker is that it was Daniel Silvetti, a local chef, who invented this recipe, but very few people knew this.” Fred continued to flesh out his story with all the necessary details.
“I have a contact at M6, I’ll reach out to her as soon as possible so she can connect us with the teams from the show,” explained Marine, receiving a compliment from Vincent and a glare from Céline.
“We need to set up close surveillance on Daniel Silvetti and stake out near his restaurant. Once this gets out, he’ll become a potential target for our killer, who will be eager to fix his mistake,” ordered Fred in an uncharacteristically firm tone.
“I’ll handle it right away,” retorted Jeff, leaving the room immediately.
Everyone followed suit. Fred barely had time to grab his helmet and jacket before heading straight to his friend Daniel’s place. The restaurant had already emptied of its clients by this late hour, and it was Elvira, with reddened eyes, who welcomed Fred by hugging him tightly: “It’s horrible, Daniel sent Manu to fetch Franck’s wife and kids to Auron.” Daniel appeared in the large hall, tears streaming down both cheeks. “Fred, you’ve got to catch the bastard who did this…” And he collapsed into his friend’s arms, sobbing. It was the first time Fred had seen him like this.
“Come on, let’s go up to the office,” Daniel suggested, heading towards the stairs.
“Daniel, you need to be very careful. We’re going to set up surveillance just above the restaurant, and two plainclothes officers will be responsible for your protection. We have every reason to believe that once the killer knows you’re behind the sweet Pan Bagnat recipe, he’ll target you.” And Fred meticulously explained the operation details to his friend.
“I’ll watch for anything that seems abnormal and alert you at the slightest suspicion, Fred.” Daniel, seeming to have calmed down, had regained his composure.
“I need to get back to the office. I’ll visit the family this week and give them my regards as soon as you see them,” Fred concluded, returning to his “second” home.
“Fred, come see, I think I’ve found something…” called Marine upon seeing her partner.
“I contacted the M6 team, and they sent over the list of everyone aware of the show’s recording and all those who participated in the filming. We’ve got a list of about a hundred names, which still narrows down our investigative field.” Marine presented him with the email containing this information.
“Were you able to cross-reference this with the information we already have?” Fred asked.
“Partially, but I haven’t found anything conclusive yet. I’ll keep looking, and I’ll let you know as soon as I find anything,” Marine replied with a reassuring smile.
“It’s late, but what if we grabbed a bite as we planned?” suggested Fred, visibly relaxed by the smile of the one he no longer called “the Miss Parisienne.” “I didn’t dare suggest it, given the circumstances, but I must admit my stomach is starting to rumble. I haven’t eaten anything since this morning,” agreed Marine, who went to fetch her things from her office.
Not easy to find a restaurant at this late hour, but as all Nice’s night owls know, “Félix Faure” can satisfy late-night cravings. The meal was most enjoyable, and their conversation topics, which were not lacking, covered all possible themes except, of course, the darned affair that brought them together. Student background, career, Parisian life, and life in Nice… the hours passed, and it was only the closing of the establishment that ended their conversation.
“Will you walk me to my hotel, Fred?” Marine asked. “Well no, a little walk will do you good, won’t it?” Fred replied with a smile.
“We’ll look like two zombies tomorrow…” joked Marine.
“Especially you…” quipped Fred, narrowly avoiding a big hit with a helmet on the head.
In a few seconds, they arrived at their destination on Promenade des Anglais. Fred parked his motorcycle at the back of the establishment and walked Marine to the main entrance.
“Well, here you are, safe and sound. See you tomorrow at the police station,” Fred said, retrieving his passenger’s helmet.
“Yes, if I manage to wake up after the three little hours of sleep we have left,” Marine replied.
It was now time to part, and their faces grew closer, with their eyes unable to stop staring. 10 cm, 9, 8, 7… And more than just a “baieta” as they say here, it was a unique, magical kiss that landed on their lips.
“I think it’s better if all this stays between us, Fred,” whispered Marine.
“I think so too, Marine,” blushed Fred, with a confident air, of course.
Thus ended this crazy day in a way Fred could never have imagined. But, it was perhaps for the best…
