Mystery of the Amber Room

Chapter 7

The television's blue light gave the room an even more somber atmosphere. Against the walls of the room, the movement on the news cast a plethora of shapes and shadows in black and blue, flashing like lightning and only momentarily illuminating the ornaments on the tables. Nothing was where it belonged. Where glass shelves on the sideboard used to hold glasses and plates, there was only a gaping frame with nothing inside. On the floor in front of it as well as on top of the drawer compartment lay scattered the large jagged pieces of the smashed crockery.

Smears of blood colored some of the flinders and floor tiles, taking on a black hue in the light of the television. The people on the screen seemed to speak to no-one in particular. There was no audience for them in the room, although someone was present. On the sofa, the slumbering mountain of a man filled all three seats as well as the arm rests. His blankets had fallen to the ground, leaving him exposed to the chill of the night, but he did not care.

Since his wife had been killed, Detlef wasn't feeling anything. Not only had his emotions abandoned him, but his senses had become numb, too. Save for sorrow and mourning Detlef did not want to feel. His skin was cold, so cold that it burned, but the widower felt only numbness when his blankets had slipped off and piled on the carpet.

Her shoes were still lying on the side of the bed where she had tossed them the day before. Detlef could not bear to take them away because then she would really be gone. Gabi's fingerprints were still on the leather of the strap, the dirt from her soles still there and when he touched the shoes he could feel her. If he put them in the closet, the traces of his last moments with Gabi would be forever lost.

The skin had come off his broken knuckles, and scurf was covering the raw flesh now. Detlef did not feel that either. He only felt the cold that killed the pain in the aftermath of his rampage and of the lacerations left behind by jagged edges. Sure he knew that he would feel the burning gashes the next day, but for now, he only wanted to sleep. When he slept, he would see her in his dreams. He would not have to face reality. In sleep, he could hide from the reality of his wife's death.

‘This is Holly Darryl at the scene of the heinous incident that took place this morning at the British Embassy in Berlin,' the American reporter on the television babbled. ‘It was here where Ben Carrington of the British Embassy witnessed the horrific suicide of Gabi Holtzer, ministerial spokesperson of the German Federal Chancellery. You might remember Mrs. Holtzer as the representative who addressed the press with regards to the recent killings of politicians and financiers in Berlin, now dubbed by the media as the 'Midas Offensive'. Sources report that there is still no clarity on Mrs. Holtzer’s motive for taking her own life after assisting in the investigation into those murders. It remains to be seen if she was possibly targeted by the same assassins or if perhaps she was even affiliated with them.”

Detlef growled in his half-sleep at the audacity of the media to even insinuate that his wife would have anything to do with the killings. He could not decide which of the two lies vexed him more — the alleged suicide or the absurd misrepresentation of her involvement. Disturbed by the unfair speculation of the know-it-all journalists, Detlef felt a welling hate for those who besmirched his wife in the eyes of the world.

Detlef Holtzer was not a coward, but he was a serious loner. Maybe it was his upbringing or perhaps just his personality, but he had always been suffering around people. Diffidence had always been his cross, even in his childhood. He could not imagine that he was important enough to have an opinion and even while he was a man in his mid-thirties married to a stunner known to all of Germany, Detlef still tended to withdraw.

Had he not had extensive combat training in the military, he would never have met Gabi. During the 2009 elections, there was widespread violence due to rumors of corruption that had sparked protests and boycotts against candidates' appearances at certain venues throughout Germany. Gabi, among others, had played it safe by hiring personal security. When she had first met her bodyguard, she had instantly fallen in love with him. How could she not love a soft-hearted, gentle giant of a man such as Detlef?

He never understood what she saw in him, but that was all part of his low self-esteem, so Gabi had learned to take his modesty lightly. She never forced him to appear in public with her after his contract as her bodyguard had ended. His wife respected his inadvertent reservation, even in the bedroom. They were quite opposite in matters of inhibition, but they had found a comfortable middle ground.

Now she was gone, and he was all alone. His longing for her crippled his heart, and he wept incessantly in the sanctuary of the couch. Ambivalence prevailed in his thoughts. He was going to do whatever was necessary to find out who killed his wife, but first, he had to get over his self-imposed obstacles. That was the hardest part, but Gabi deserved justice, and he simply had to find a way to grow more confident.