DIANE

FRIDAY, JULY 5

Friday night, 10:30 p.m. Alan Moore was finishing his beer. “Time to catch the last bus, lads,” he said to his poker buddies, Alfonse Weis and Thomas Walter, glancing at David as he stood up. The four long-time friends had met for an after-work beer, followed by a round of poker and a nice dinner, as always discussing the week’s events. Tonight, they were gathered at Alfonse’s house in Fentange, a small village nestled in a quiet area not far from the capital.

Alan Moore, 53, a British citizen and banker, had lived and worked in Luxembourg for over twenty-five years, and resided in a beautiful apartment in the city centre.

Thomas Walter, 55 years old, a Dutch citizen and graphic designer by profession, had been divorced for over twenty years and now lived in Bivange, a small town near the capital. He loved his work and dedicated himself wholeheartedly to every project.

Alfonse Weis, a 60-year-old Luxembourger, was a retired intelligence officer but had only left the service a few months ago. He was of medium build, slim and fit, with grey hair, a determined gaze, and a good sense of humour. During his tenure in the police force, Weis had brought down numerous criminals, and once he took on a case, nothing and no one could deter him until the culprit was apprehended. Since retiring, he had more time for his family, which brought much joy to his wife Madeleine. However, he somehow missed the daily challenges, although he didn’t discuss this with his wife or friends; it was