Dirk Lützelberger - Murder in the first life

"The journey will not take long. Make yourself comfortable."

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five" Gwendolyn Fisher counted enthusiastically and together with Elisabeth Robinson and Stefan Schick they finished the countdown, "four, three, two, one!"

Then all the other guests joined in and together they sang, "Happy Bööörthday, tooo you – Happy Bööörthday to youuuuu."

Paul Fisher got goose bumps from the strange sounds, but he smiled bravely when he heard his friends singing. It was good to see them again and they had all accepted the invitation on his day of honour. Celebrating his forty-sixth birthday was Gwendolyn’s idea, or Gwen, as she was called by everyone. She always had such great ideas and was always good for a surprise, thought Paul and looked at her face in love. The youthful charisma of his wife was certainly due to her green eyes, which shone like emeralds full of enthusiasm. She had been Paul’s dream girl from the very beginning, ever since he had succumbed to her smile and her glances at their first encounter. Gwen threw back her long, curly, red hair when she fell around her husband’s neck. Paul could barely stand on his feet as Gwen gave him a birthday kiss on the mouth that every man present envied him.

Gwen laughed her head off, "Now you are in you forty-seventh year of life, your old age guy, while I am only forty-two!"

The party guests enjoyed themselves, although they had to hear the saying every year. It was Gwen’s special way of interpreting the facts and making a positive statement. She was a natural talent for gaiety and joy.

"I also want to congratulate" Phillip squeezed through the group towards his father and wrapped his arms around him. "Happy birthday, Daddy. Stay as you are, that’s how I love you." Paul swallowed hard in the embrace of his fourteen-year-old son, who wanted to be called Phil by everyone. He reminded him so much of himself when he was little, and also saw much of his wife in him. The pert, mischievous look and alert blue eyes he had from his father, the unmistakable red hair from his mother. He himself had agreed to go bald a few years ago when his hair turned grey and began to fall out. That was at least very easy to care for, Paul thought, and it also seemed 'cool' in his son’s eyes. A bit like the hero in 'Die Hard', he kept saying. Paul smiled at the thought of it.

"Now make way for your old mother!" Actually, her name was Elisabeth, but the name had been too old-fashioned for her, so everyone called her just Beth, or sometimes Lisbeth, if necessary. Despite her seventy-two years, she still wiggled through the crowd and reached her son-in-law. She bent down to his ear. "At my age one can’t stand it when children worry one. So, you’d best stay safe and sound so we can have many more lovely parties together." Then she kissed him on the cheek.

"Now let’s have a toast before we die of thirst!" Michael Peters suggested and raised his glass. Dr Peters was a long-time friend of the family and had worked with Gwen at the Kiel State Office of Criminal Investigation, called 'Landeskriminalamt' or LKA, for many years. He oversaw investigating crime scenes and clues in the forensic department. In the meantime, Gwen had been promoted to Chief Inspector and together with her colleague, Superintendent Stefan Schick, they were a well-rehearsed team.

All three cheered Paul when he suddenly sank to the ground, powerless and unexpectedly.

"Paul, what about you?" cried Gwen, still trying to stop the falling body. But the ninety kilograms slid inexorably to the ground, where Paul lay motionless. The guests standing around were paralyzed when Michael was the first to become aware of the situation and sank to his knees next to Paul. He immediately shook him by the shoulders, "Paul, can you hear me?"

Michael put his ear to Paul’s nose and observed if the chest was still moving. The guests around him hardly dared to breathe. After a few seconds his lips formed a slow 'sh…it', then Michael stood up and was in his element. He had experienced such situations many times before.

"Stefan, call the ambulance immediately" he commanded. "Tell them to hurry, he’s probably having a heart attack!"

"Gwen, you’re coming with me! Put on a jacket and Beth, please take care of the guests and stay with Phil until we call from the hospital. Now, everybody, please get out of here!" Michael, ripped open Paul’s shirt, immediately started chest compressions to keep his friend’s circulation going. He had to bridge the time until the ambulance arrived.

♦♦♦

Dr Peters knew the emergency medical team very well, which came into the living room after a few minutes. He shouted to them from a distance, without interrupting the chest compressions, "The defibrillator, quickly!" He knew that Paul was in good hands with his former colleagues and could do anything more for him at that moment. A defibrillator, which would bring the heart rhythm back into order by means of a targeted electric shock, was the only thing that could help now. Michael was sure of that.

When the paramedics took over, he stood up and hugged Gwen. Breathlessly, they watched the doctor’s efforts. Hope germinated in Gwen’s eyes as the paramedics worked at a hectic pace.

"We have a pulse again!" cheered the younger of the two doctors. "He must get to hospital immediately!"

On the way to the ambulance, Michael shouted at Gwen, "Get into the front, I’ll stay in the back with your husband!" While Gwen hurried forward, Michael almost yelled at Stefan, "We’re going to the Army Hospital, it’s the closest one." He added to his instructions, "You keep the way clear for us in the patrol car."

Stefan ran to his Ford Focus tournament, where he had driven to Paul’s birthday right after finishing his shift. He turned on the flashing blue light and waited with the engine running for the emergency ambulance to finally get going.

They left Gwen’s property via the gravel driveway and first turned left towards the main road. Why did Gwen have to live so far from the city, Stefan pondered as he approached the crossroads to turn right. He looked in the rear-view mirror. They were behind him.

No question about it, this was a beautiful area, a few kilometres northeast of Kiel, but at the back of the world. Nothing but fields, footpaths and peace, Gwen had once raved over it. Now they would certainly have liked to have a hospital nearby and not just eight kilometres away. They were alone on the main road and Stefan stepped on the gas. He wasn’t even fifty years old, hopefully he’d survive, Stefan pondered as he saw the ambulance in his rear-view mirror. He fixed the two high beam lights, which raced towards him at high speed. Cramping, Stefan held the steering wheel of his Barbarix tightly while the lights came closer and closer. Barbarix, that is what he and Gwen affectionately called their blue and white patrol car. They were about the same age and often talked to each other while they were on shifts together. At some point Gwen told him that she was a fan of Barbapappa in her childhood days. A program that was a regular part of the children’s program. Barbarix was the smart blue one. Somehow this suited them, said Gwen, and so they simply christened their vehicle Barbarix. Together they had already experienced many exciting times and solved many difficult cases. They were both just as smart as Barbarix.

This idiot is going to kill himself, Stefan rumbled to himself when he noticed that the car behind them was overtaking the ambulance and himself at a crazy speed. In a split second the car had shot past them. A red Porsche, of course, thought Stefan, and shouted angrily after the speeding car, "You bum, is that necessary?"

Then the Porsche braked off abruptly, as if he had heard it, and turned sharp left into the side street, where he suddenly found himself facing a van. Only an emergency stop of the two cars could avoid a collision. Tires squeaked and a grey-blue stinking cloud of burnt rubber surrounded the two vehicles as they came to a halt.