Zekeriya Guser – Captivated conductor of my very own extraordinary journey.

Chapter 1 – Stride of Pride

On a bleak Monday morning in mid-September, he entered the midly worn-off office building in Germany, having just secured a job at a prestigious financial institution. Dressed in a sharp dark red blazer, armed with a matching black and red checkered briefcase, he exuded confidence and eagerness to prove himself. Climbing the stairs, each step fuelled his excitement. On the first floor, an old friend greeted him with a cheerful smile, guiding him to the HR department where paperwork awaited. With the formalities completed, an ID card in hand, he was poised to unleash his mysterious and potent skill. Seated at his walnut desk, devoid of a computer but equipped with a notepad and pen, he contemplated the unknown challenges ahead.

Surveying the office, alive with activity and chatter, he felt a surge of adrenaline. The curiosity about his new role intensified as he exchanged greetings with colleagues and executives. As the day unfolded, he struggled to memorize names and faces, managing to recall only a handful by day’s end. Exhausted but satisfied, he headed back to the hotel, a temporary residence until he secured a more permanent abode.

The subsequent days blurred together as he immersed himself in office life, meeting and greeting people, and absorbing the intricacies of his new environment. Some colleagues exhibited an awkward demeanor, but he attributed it to the unfamiliarity of the place. Giving them the benefit of the doubt, he focused on his day-to-day routine, minimizing interactions with those who seemed out of sync.

As weeks melted into routine, he acclimated to the work and the peculiarities of his colleagues. The perceived awkwardness transformed into distinctive personalities, and he resolved to let it be unless directly impacting him. Life in this new venture became his norm, and he navigated the complexities with growing familiarity.

Months later, a hiatus beckoned, and he embarked on a journey to his homeland. Plans were made, tickets booked, a car rented, gifts purchased, and tales prepared to share with family and friends. After all, he had spent the past months building a new life in a foreign land.

Back in his homeland, reconnecting with loved ones, he received a call from an old friend still at the company that wakes him up due to the time difference. The news shattered the idyllic visit—there had been a murder at the office. The shocking twist? The crime occurred at night, right in his office, with the letter opener as a weapon sourced from his personal drawer. The locked drawer, seemingly untouched, showed no signs of forced entry. Despite his absence even in the country during the incident, circumstantial evidence placed him squarely at the top of the suspect list. The “new guy” status added a layer of suspicion with further complexity. Urged to fly back immediately for questioning, his homecoming took a dark turn, overshadowed by the looming uncertainty of a murder investigation.

Mere hours after the jolting revelation, he found himself aboard a plane, fuelled not only by inquiries swirling in his mind but also the formidable task of proving his innocence. Determined to be as collaborative as possible, he pondered how to articulate that he could not possibly be the perpetrator of the crime. Aware that the murder unfolded in his office while he occupied the role of the “new guy,” he discerned a calculated setup. Someone had meticulously orchestrated the situation, placing him in a precarious position, and he braced himself for the impending challenge.

Touching down at the airport just before midday, he hails a taxi to the hotel. Recognizing the gravity of the situation, he swiftly showers, aiming to present himself as sharp as possible for the impending encounter with detectives—an initial rendezvous in what promises to be a series of formidable challenges. Dressed to face what could be the most significant trial of his life, he braces himself to clear his name from the ominous shadow of a murder.

Upon arrival at the office building, a ghost town welcomes him. The staff had been swiftly dismissed to preserve potential evidence, leaving only a select few present. Approaching his office, he encounters yellow tape sealing the door, and a lifeless body sprawled across his desk, the letter opener protruding from its back. Questions linger—what led him to his office in the dead of night, or was he transported there after being murdered elsewhere?

Between receiving the shattering news and boarding the plane, he juggles conversations with a seasoned lawyer and a trusted friend. Seeking guidance on the path ahead, he is advised to leverage his overseas presence to his advantage. The difficulty in proving his swift round-trip to Germany, sans passport stamps, becomes a strategic focal point. Cautioned against explicitly pointing out this apparent advantage, he is counselled to maintain composure, answering questions without volunteering unnecessary details—conscious that any statement may reverberate throughout the unfolding case. The delicate dance between maintaining innocence and avoiding self-incrimination becomes the intricate choreography of his legal strategy.

Just as he scrutinizes his office, careful not to disturb anything and leave fresh fingerprints, the door to the corridor swings open. A man strides in, sporting a jacket adorned with patches at its elbows, and glasses that lend him an air of unwavering toughness. This detective, advancing with purpose, becomes instantly recognizable – the figure he had anticipated with a blend of anxiety and anticipation. A peculiar dichotomy unfolds, for in the eyes of this investigator, he is both the prime suspect and an individual utterly disconnected from the crime. It dawns on him that he is in for a unique encounter, a rendezvous with a murder investigator.

As the detective approaches, an unfamiliar weight settles on him. Being the prime suspect in a murder investigation, in a country he recently transplanted to, adds a layer of stress uncommon in his daily existence. The detective deliberately narrows the distance, aiming for an intimidating aura, and mumbles something in German. He responds, admitting his lack of German language and affirming his ability to communicate in English, albeit with a touch of hesitation. As he gibbers the words ‘Enough to get to the bottom of this’, his grasp of English, though not entirely confident, becomes the tool he must wield in this high-stakes encounter.

The detective, without bothering to inquire about his name, directs him to an upstairs meeting room, meticulously prepared for the impending interrogation. Following the investigator, he contemplates the impending exchange, realizing that in a matter of moments, he might be divulging more than he ever intended. The usual setting for his presentations on inconsequential matters transforms into the battleground where his freedom teeters on the edge of a precipice, dangling over the abyss of imprisonment in a foreign land.

Upon entering the meeting room, he notices the absence of water bottles, chocolate-filled plates, and coffee mugs – staples of more routine gatherings. Instead, a stark tableau unfolds with only a notepad and pen on the investigator’s side of the table, reminiscent of the first day he set foot in the company. The familiarity of this simple setup contrasts sharply with the gravity of the situation, underscoring the stark shift from mundane corporate presentations to a pivotal moment that could dictate his fate.

Seated by the investigator, who deliberately takes the position opposite him, an intense stare unfolds, designed to evoke discomfort. The investigator’s calculated attempt at intimidation is evident, working its intended magic despite the awareness of the tactic. Breaking the silence that lingers, the investigator, with a flair of authority, discloses his name—Herr Gunther Schneider. The introduction extends to a meticulous recitation of his credibility, an additional layer of intimidation that functions with clockwork precision.

As Herr Schneider exhausts the arsenal of intimidation tactics, he poses the quintessential question, “Where were you between 19:00 last evening and 7:00 this morning?” The response, laced with a seemingly wrong attitude, retorts with, “In which time zone?” A touch of sarcasm, unintended yet unmistakable emerges as an attempt to be precise and establish the fact that he was not present in the country when the incident occurred.

This exchange establishes a palpable tension, amplifying the investigator’s resolve. The understanding that follows prompts a twinge of anger, fuelling the investigator’s motivation to become even more relentless. The straightforward reply, “German time,” initiates a detailed account of his evening and night in his home country, unfolding the narrative from the moment he received the news about the murder to their present confrontation in the stark meeting room.

Chapter 2 – Lamplight’s Ciphered Shadow

He recounted spending the night at a friend’s place, engaging in board games and conversation until dawn broke. A fair amount of alcohol was consumed. He then retired to bed, only to be abruptly awakened by a phone call reporting a murder in the office. Following the advice of his lawyer friend, he kept his explanation brief and direct, avoiding unnecessary details or random facts that might arouse suspicion.

After the succinct account of his twelve-hour period, Herr Schneider, though not entirely satisfied, posed a few questions. He inquired about the identities of the people present, the location of the gathering, the board game played, the type of alcohol consumed, and the topics discussed among friends. These were basic inquiries, and Herr Schneider wasn’t overly insistent, aware that the individual in question had a solid alibi – government officials who had stamped his passport twice, proving he was thousands of kilometers away at the time of the crime.

Nevertheless, Herr Schneider couldn’t shake off a nagging feeling, a hunch he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He had no intention of letting the suspect off too easily, but he also felt the need to proceed cautiously.

At this juncture, faced with direct questions, he responded with even greater composure, saying, “I would be happy to answer these questions, but out of respect for the others involved in my night, I’d prefer to consult my lawyer first.” His calm demeanor only heightened the tension between them and deepened the detective’s suspicions. Yet, in his mind, he was merely being fair.

He disclosed that they had played a game called Puerto Rico, where he came in second place. He further explained the assortment of alcohols consumed, highlighting a 12-year-old Auchentoshan with its sweet tangerine and lime notes. “There were also some beers, half a bottle of homemade gin from a friend, and possibly half a bottle of white wine, the culprit of which remains a mystery,” he quipped in a storytelling manner he fancied, believing his being out of the country provided a solid alibi. The detective, however, wasn’t amused; if anything, he became more intrigued by the gaps in the story.

Realizing he had no grounds to press further, the detective advised him to consult his lawyer about providing more details of his whereabouts and associates. He expressed interest in these details to rule him out as a suspect, implying the end of the interrogation. As he rose to leave, he paused, turning back to ask about the timing of the next interrogation. He explained that he was unfamiliar with German procedures, having recently moved, and wanted to ensure he could consult with his lawyer beforehand.

While attempting to grasp the situation, he subtly hinted that he was unfamiliar with investigations, implying his innocence. What he failed to realize was that the man across the table, Herr Schneider, had spent considerable time with individuals who often used their intelligence to appear innocent. This situation was no different for Herr Schneider, and he was determined to uncover the truth. With a simple response, he stated, “In a few days.”

Leaving the interrogation room, which had felt more like a battlefield than the other times, he walked back to his office with a weight on his shoulders. Everything seemed unchanged, as expected. He left the building, heading back to his hotel room to sort through the emails and calls awaiting his attention, eager to return to some semblance of normalcy.

As night fell, another call awaited him, this time for consultation with his friend post-interrogation. They discussed the options: he should disclose names and locations, as his silence might raise suspicion. Yet, trusting the law and sticking to the truth were paramount. While these were sensible suggestions, for a man suspected of murder, the weight of reality was much heavier to bear.

After the call, he sought solace in music before drifting off to sleep. The next morning, he returned to the office, uncertain of what lay ahead, only to find it still cordoned off as a crime scene. Settling into a nearby office, he resumed his work, trying to maintain some sense of normality. The following days were filled with interrogations and whispers echoing through the halls. People exchanged hushed conversations over coffee, falling silent as others approached.

As time passed, it became increasingly evident who trusted whom based on the time spent together in various offices, conversations circling the murder without explicitly stating it. Days went by, events unfolded, and people talked, yet life gradually returned to normalcy. Everyone was fighting their own daily battles, including our protagonist, whose struggle to find a flat proved particularly challenging. In a city with high demand and limited supply, the search became a daunting task, leading him to leave early and return late, viewing properties all over the city.

Meanwhile, Herr Schneider, frequently wandering around the office, found these absences somewhat suspicious. He wanted to investigate further but didn’t want to appear too intrusive, lacking proper justification for suspicion. Thus, he tried to keep a low profile. He reasoned that if the person had something to hide, they would likely notice his scrutiny; otherwise, he would be unfair to an innocent individual. As a fearless detective, he valued fairness above all.

Eventually, the flat search, which had started off as somewhat amusing, turned into a tiresome ordeal. He finally settled on one and signed the contract. Now it was time to bid farewell to the hotel and embrace a more settled life. As such luck would have it, the office was due to move to a new location, and most of the furniture from the current office would be redistributed. He planned to furnish his new place with some of these items, carefully selecting those that suited his needs.

Not only were some of the office members unhappy about the new office location due to increased travel time, but there was another discontented individual: Herr Schneider. The time that had elapsed since the murder exceeded his expectations, leaving him anxious about losing crucial evidence as the crime scene was to be dismantled. He knew the culprits would have more opportunities to conceal evidence once everything was moved. This urgency led him to push for a faster investigation.

With the impending move, he obtained the necessary approvals from his superiors to increase manpower in the office. With the firm being open to all needs of law enforcement, these processes went much smoother, which was the only thing that brought a small smile to his lips.

Weeks passed with intensive scrutiny of both the crime scene and the rest of the office, but no further evidence surfaced. This not only frustrated him but also made him realize that the perpetrator or perpetrators were either highly skilled or incredibly lucky. As someone who didn’t believe in luck, he felt a surge of anger, mostly directed at himself.

As moving day arrived, some people began taking furniture home, while others were taken to the office to be set up by the moving company. Where Herr Schneider left with relatively empty offices and halls, feeling the weight of the situation in his hands.

Meanwhile, our protagonist had managed to bring home a couch, a few lamps, and chairs. After arranging them, life seemed to return to normal, albeit with the unexpected intrusion of a murder.

As the old office was being demolished by the landlord, Herr Schneider found himself with limited options. He decided to shift his investigation to the new office, focusing on digital files as his primary resource. Kindly, he requested the employee files from HR. Given the potential legal issues, they awaited a court order, which arrived a few days later. With the employee files in hand, the detective began searching for anyone with potential motives.

Foreign employees were the first on his list, as their files contained limited information due to databases being in their home countries. One name stood out: our protagonist, who had only recently moved to the country and whose office was the scene of the crime. It seemed only fair to start with him. Additionally, he discovered the protagonist had a longstanding relationship with the firm, spanning over a decade.

Considering the sequence of events, Herr Schneider faced a puzzle. Here was an individual with a decade-long association with the company, who had recently moved to Germany and started working at the firm only a few months before the murder occurred in his office. On the surface, it made sense, but there were inconsistencies. Why commit the crime in his own office, using his own letter opener, which could further implicate him? It seemed like an attempt to divert suspicion, yet the fact that he was supposedly abroad during the crime kept him relatively low on the list of suspects.

A few weeks before these events unfolded, our protagonist, who happened to be quite obsessive-compulsive, noticed that the tall lamp he brought from the office’s nap room had only one bulb, leaving the other two sockets empty. Despite feeling uncomfortable about it, it took him a few weeks to finally purchase a couple of bulbs for the lamp. As he set about installing the bulbs, he moved the fabric-like lampshades aside and discovered small numbers written inside them in a discreet manner, almost as if hidden. There were two sets of numbers with a dash between them, arranged in rows.

Being someone who had watched a considerable number of spy movies, this immediately struck him as a book cipher encryption method – a way to communicate without anyone else understanding. Although the likelihood of such a thing happening in a financial institution was incredibly low, the recent murder made it seem all the more plausible.

Meanwhile, just a few kilometers away at the new offices, Herr Schneider was going through his files when he stumbled upon something bizarre: a small questionnaire for new employees, consisting of a few questions that was to be issued in the company’s system to introduce the new employees. One of these questions asked about something they had always wanted to do but never did. Our protagonist’s answer stood out: “Writing a murder mystery novel that takes place in a financial institution.”

Chapter 3 – The Rise of a New Foe

He was utterly baffled: who would confess to a murder before it even happened? He strained to find any logical explanation, his thoughts tangled and increasingly frustrating. At one point, he even entertained the wild notion that he himself might be some kind of sociopath, perhaps subconsciously orchestrating the crime to bring a dark “novel” into reality. Though any rational person would dismiss such thoughts as far-fetched, Herr Schneider took note of them all, intending to investigate further.

Meanwhile, on a different level, our protagonist’s thoughts had begun spiraling in another direction. Not long after the murder in his office, he stumbled upon some cryptic information hidden within a lamp that had somehow made its way from the office to his home. Being one of the primary suspects, he couldn’t brush this off as mere coincidence. But then again, was there such a thing as coincidence? And wasn’t this an almost absurdly unlikely one?

Both men carried on, weighed down by questions that hung unanswered, while office life quietly resumed its familiar rhythm. Colleagues began to treat Herr Schneider’s periodic visits as if he were just another remote-working employee, blending seamlessly into the ebb and flow of their routines.

Settling into his new life, our protagonist purchased a bicycle to ease his commute. On his first morning ride, only a few hundred meters from home, he collided with a car—a light gray, mid-2010s Audi estate, driven by a young couple. The impact was relatively minor; his bike struck one of the car’s tires and escaped unscathed. They called the police, who promised to arrive in 15 minutes but didn’t show for an hour and a half. During the wait, the three exchanged polite small talk: their jobs, where he was from, and the reasons for his move to Germany. Eventually, the driver explained that he was borrowing his sister’s garage while she was away.

When the police finally arrived, they took everyone’s statements, declaring that, since the car was parked on the bike lane, the fault lay with the driver. Statements taken, the police sent them all on their way. Our protagonist pedaled off, treating the incident as just another story for his growing collection. But weeks later, he found a letter from a law firm waiting in his mailbox. According to the letter, the car damage was “considerable,” and, as the driver claimed the collision was unavoidable, he was being asked to sign a letter accepting full responsibility.

This request, as absurd as it was infuriating, was clearly a corporate attempt at intimidation. Not only had the police explicitly said it wasn’t his fault, but now this law firm was fishing for a confession. Determined to shut down the nonsense, he visited the police station to confirm their report, which they did, assuring him he was in the clear. Armed with newfound confidence, he enlisted the help of one of his company’s lawyers to craft a firm response, stating in no uncertain terms that he would not take responsibility.

Thinking this would put the issue to rest, he set it aside and resumed his daily routine. But on an ordinary Tuesday, while chatting with colleagues over coffee in the canteen, he received a call from an unfamiliar number. Answering, he quickly realized it was from the lawyer at the firm trying to pin the accident on him.

The voice on the other end was relatively young, speaking rapidly, as if he had a long list of similar calls to make. After several attempts to explain he didn’t speak German, the lawyer finally slowed down and switched to impressively fluent English, detailing the “process” of the claim. When he finally found an opportunity to respond, he informed the lawyer that he wasn’t just “the new guy in town”—he worked in insurance and was more than aware of the situation. Calmly, he outlined how he knew the police report favored him, and he even mentioned the car’s unfortunate positioning as it exited a garage unfamiliar to its driver, making an accident more probable.

The lawyer’s tone shifted slightly, clearly realizing now that this wasn’t going to be a simple scare tactic. Yet, something in his attitude hinted that he was irritated by the client’s confident, know-it-all tone; rather than backing down, he seemed intent on pushing the issue, even though the damage was only a few thousand euros—an amount that would typically be dropped. But the lawyer disliked his self-assured manner and decided to press harder.

When the call ended, the lawyer sat back, a strange sense of intrigue sparking as he reviewed the client’s details. Delving further, he soon uncovered a startling fact—the man was also the prime suspect in a murder investigation. This discovery unsettled him, but it also fueled his curiosity, adding a new layer of complexity to what should have been a straightforward case.

On one hand, the man seemed like an easy target—vulnerable, navigating unfamiliar ground. But the possibility that he was a calculated, cold-blooded murderer made things far more complex. The lawyer resolved to continue his investigations quietly, making sure his subject remained unaware—at least until he felt certain whether the man was truly innocent or behind bars was where he belonged.

So our protagonist, without realizing it, continued to make new enemies—some he didn’t even know existed.

As Echoes of Suspicious linger, anticipate the unraveling tale in future chapters. Watch this space for more…

Caution: Regarding any resemblance to real events or characters, especially those familiar to you, including yourself, I can neither confirm nor deny that it to be purely coincidental.