"Of course it's important." Tabby Teller's handsome face twisted with rage, a look in his eyes capable of killing: "Was it you who killed her?"
Bernard Bosc gently caressed the comb in his hand, with extreme tenderness.
He looked at Tabby Teller, his gaze hollow and distant: "Giana can never come back, never."
"Was it you who killed her?"
Still not receiving an answer, even the usually gentle Tabby Teller shouted out.
"Let's say I did, even though I didn't do it with my own hands, I can't wash my hands of it." Bernard Bosc looked at Tabby Teller, seeking death: "Mr. President, kill me, avenge your daughter."
"I will kill you, but before that, I must figure out what you did to my daughter." Tabby Teller gritted his teeth and asked, "You and Giana almost got married, didn't you?"
"Yes." Bernard Bosc's hand tightened involuntarily around the wooden comb.
"Why did you want to marry her? To make it easier for you to strike?"
