The jump

I remember very well who was the first person I saw as soon as I entered the club: it was Don Calogero Meta lying on a sofa near the cloakroom. Further on Don Ignazio and Don Graziano were preparing some paint to paint his face red, like the socialists he hated so much. But they didn't even have time to finish adding the water before he got up from the sofa and painted everyone in the face, including me, who had nothing to do with it. All that noise made the asses of those in the rooms inside get up from their seats, playing cards and drinking whiskey and rum like the Americans, losing their heads every three or two and making people hear rights and wrongs with their hands and feet. They arrived there in the hall with glasses in their hands and cigars in their mouths, all out of breath and out of breath.
“But what's going on in here?” the lawyer Ingroia immediately shouted, always playing at being the one who knows how to control situations. In short, once what had happened was explained, everyone had a laugh and began to make fun of the two who had been fooled. But suddenly an animalistic scream coming from the halls woke us all up again. We ran through the door and curtains towards the direction of the scream and, when the lights came on, we found the body of the knight Boniface lying badly on the ground with his chest full of blood and his neck torn open.
A silence and immobility that practically makes us feel like a wax museum.
But in a few moments the lawyer Ingroia brought us back to the real world and began to think about what to do. Calling the police was unthinkable. If they had known what was happening in there or if the news became public knowledge they would have been disgraced forever and without remedy. The knight was the favorite to be the party's candidate for mayor and for weeks an internal war had been taking place that sent chills to the bones.
In short, it was obvious that it had been one of them. Who? Who had remained inside, besides the knight, while everyone was in the hall fooling around? Or had someone moved unseen and then, again inadvertently, slipped back into the fray as they headed toward the shouting? And who could have had an interest in killing the knight who certainly wasn't a saint?