Dirk Lützelberger - Murder in the first life

"Mom? Beth? Are you there?" Irritated, Gwen walked around the kitchen’s cooking island and entered the living room through the dining room. "Oh, you’re here" whispered Gwen as she found her mother asleep on the couch. She placed her coffee cup on the coffee table and sat down next to her mother before gently waking her up. "Hey, Mom, I’m home. You were asleep. Is everything okay? Is Phil upstairs?" Beth opened her eyes, still sleepy, but she was happy to see her daughter.

"Yes, he was in his room all day. He played, read, and was on the computer. Somehow, he didn’t want to go out again today or do anything else but playing on his computer. He couldn’t even be inspired to go for an ice cream." Sadly, Gwen gave her mother a hug.

"No, he mourns in his own way. I understand him very well and I’ll go see how he’s doing."

"It’s about time I got home. I’ll just pack up and let you guys get together for the evening. Give my grandson a kiss of me. I’ll see you tomorrow." Gwen hugged her mother again, gave her a kiss on the cheek and went upstairs with a queasy feeling to check on her son.

Gwen always respected her son’s privacy. This was an unwritten agreement they had made. If he wanted to withdraw, he could do so whenever he wanted. No ifs, ands, or buts. No questions. Everybody had a bad day and needed their rest. The last few days Phil had always disappeared immediately into his room without making an attempt to talk to his mother. And Beth had apparently not been able to get through to her only grandson today either. Gwen paused outside the door for a moment and wondered whether she should enter without being asked. The door was only ajar and there was no sound from Phil’s room. Only a faint glimmer shone into the corridor, which was illuminated only by a night light on the stairs and from the dining room on the ground floor. Gwen struggled with herself but then gave herself a jolt, knocked briefly and entered. Phil lay on the bed and read. Only his bedside lamp made the small room appear in a yellowish light. The room was simply furnished. There was a wardrobe, a desk where Phil could do his homework and his computer was on it. Next to it was the bed and a bedside table. Everything was bought from IKEA as requested. Phil liked the funny names of the furniture, once he had established his fondness for IKEA furniture.

He looked so sad, Gwen thought, and she guessed that the book was just an excuse. For sure Phil had been at the computer just before, whirring along quietly, waiting for orders. The light from the computer screen and the bedside lamp produced a dim light that made Gwen feel uneasy. Still, she sat on the edge of the bed with her son and looked through the window into the darkness. The November evening had already passed over the fields and the oak tree standing in front of Phil’s window was dimly lit by the moon. A shiver ran down Gwen’s spine and she looked at her son.

"Hey, how’s my big guy?" she asked after a while and put her hand on his legs.

"Mm-hmm, okay!" Phil lay huddled on his side and didn’t bother to get chatty.

"How was your day? Did you experience anything exciting?" He just shook his head. Gently, Gwen stroked his calves and tickled the sole of his foot. Phil pulled his feet back jerkily.

"Cut it out! I don’t want this now!" he hissed. Gwen frowned and tried to interpret his reaction. She took a deep breath in and out.

"I’ll make something delicious for dinner. Please come down when you’re ready."

Why did everything have to be so difficult, it went through her mind. Hopefully it would clear up in the next few days. She couldn’t keep it up very long. With her hands Gwen pushed herself off the bed and stood up. She looked at her son who, absorbed in the book, lay motionless on his bed and thought about what she should say. She couldn’t think of the right words, so she kept quiet. She went out of the room and left the door again ajar.

Beth had already left. She didn’t want to stay for dinner every night. She didn’t want to be a burden on her daughter. Gwen had never felt this way, but she didn’t want a fight with her mother, so she kept quiet. While the milk for the cocoa was getting hot in the microwave and Gwen was breaking the eggs into the pan to make scrambled eggs, she heard those strange noise coming from Phil’s room upstairs again. Sounds she had heard many times before in the last few days. Phil was back to his favourite pastime when he needed to calm down. He played on the computer. Gwen knew that for Phil this was his way of relaxing. For herself she could not get anything out of the computer. At the LKA she only did the most necessary things and at home she wasn’t really in the mood for sitting in front of a computer. She preferred to read books for relaxation or watch TV. In general, the whole world of computers was not so easy for her. Maybe it was exactly this fear and her lack of understanding of this technology that made her refuse to deal with it even a little more than necessary. How often had her son asked her taking a computer course at the adult education centre, but it never came to that. She had Paul. He took care of all matters concerning consumer electronics and the computer world. All that mattered to Gwen was that devices worked. How and why was the same to her. Now she was standing there with a computer she could just turn on, but it didn’t help her otherwise. Paul was no longer there. Gwen noticed how the air she was breathing was suddenly gone again, how her eyes filled with tears and how her hands began to tremble. She had to sit down, and her tears of sadness were now flowing unchecked. A quiet sob was all that came out of her throat. Under no circumstances did she want to bring Phil into the picture. She had to be strong now. But she could not. Not at this moment. She closed her eyes and dreamt as tears ran down her cheeks.

The ringing of the microwave called Gwen back to the present. She dried her tears, took a deep breath and cried out in a husky voice, "Phil, dinner’s ready! Are you coming?"

Friday evening – finally, thought Mark and sat down at the computer full of expectation. The last days had been very exhausting and he hadn’t found the time to be online. But he didn’t feel that was a bad thing, as he had an almost infinite number of opportunities to do good deeds every day at work. This brought the necessary satisfaction in his life. But now once again the long and very lonely weekend lay ahead of him. The chance of providing a great service to someone in the real world during this weekend was very small – the Internet was the only hope.

Mark lived alone in his small apartment. He hadn’t had a steady for a long time. He often pondered what might be the reason for this while he stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom and washed himself. He was already in his early thirties, tall, slim and well trained. This was very beneficial for his job. It was not even necessary to go to the gym. His muscles developed all by themselves while he was only doing his job. He had well-groomed, short brown hair and blue eyes that looked at him in the mirror. Maybe it was his eyes, Mark thought. They were ice-blue, cold eyes that stared at him mercilessly. Those who didn’t know him and knew that he was basically a kind and helpful person, perhaps saw a threat in his penetrating gaze. His eyes could be like two swords that effortlessly cut their way through their counterpart. It could well be that the women around him were frightened off by this very thing. Every time he had made contact with a young woman, she had avoided his gaze as if she feared he might pierce her with his eyes. He had never actually been with a girlfriend for a longer period. There was never more than one dinner or a movie.