Was the killer already in the room that Friday night? A woman in leopard-spotted pants sat in a booth, talking intently amid the laughter and conversation inside MVP's Interactive Video Cafe, a high-tone supper club in the suburban outskirts of Atlanta. By the front door, a long line of patrons lingered, waiting for tables to open. Against a backdrop of deep blue walls and soft neons, guys in designer shirts and leather jackets leaned against the polished-oak bar, curling glasses of cold beer. Three men in dark coats and blue jeans had rushed to take a table close to the jazz...
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