“I’ll give you our address. It’s only a short walk away from here. I’ll also call her and let you know you’re on your way.”
Anouk handed London the address and gave directions on how to get there.
“Thanks, Anouk,” London said, getting up to leave. “You’ve been a great help.”
“I hope so,” Anouk said, leading London back to the front window. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in trouble with the police. Everybody who works around here gets along with them just fine.”
London’s head buzzed as she and Sir Reggie continued on toward the address. The visit to the sex worker had definitely taken her by surprise. Apart from her scanty clothing and her rainbow-colored hair, Anouk had seemed like a perfectly normal young woman. And something Anouk had said kept rattling through London’s head.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in trouble with the police.”
It seemed more than ironic that London kept getting in trouble with the law and this local woman never did.
“We’re definitely in whole different world, Sir Reggie,” London said to her dog.
Their route took them along the bank of the nearest canal. When they arrived at the address, London’s mouth dropped open with surprise. She had to check the paper to make sure she hadn’t made a mistake.
“This isn’t what I expected, Sir Reggie,” she said.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
How in the world do two sex workers afford that? London wondered.
She couldn’t imagine that Anouk and Ingrid made much money in that plain little room with the large window facing the street. She had been expecting to find themselves living someplace more …
Well, squalid, maybe, she admitted to herself.
She was staring at a small but perfectly charming houseboat afloat in a nearby canal. It was one in a row of cheerful little floating homes. Like most of the others, this one had flowers blooming in pots on a small deck that could be accessed by a set of steps leading down from the waterfront walkway.
Just yesterday Kapitein Claes, the pilot of the Jonge Gouda canal boat, had talked about these “house arks” —woonarks, he’d said they were called. He’d emphasized that the berths alone could be extremely expensive.
London stood wavering on the bank, not sure whether to head down those steps onto the foredeck and knock on the door—not sure, in fact, whether she actually had the right address.
Then the front door opened, and a young woman came out dressed in a gleaming white nurse’s uniform.
“We’ve definitely got the wrong place,” she murmured to Sir Reggie. “Come on, let’s go.”
But as she turned to walk away, the nurse called out in Dutch.
“Are you Mevrouw Rose?”
Surprised, London turned back again.
“Um, yes,” she said, picking up Sir Reggie and stepping down onto the deck.
“It’s good to meet you,” the nurse said with a pleasant smile. “My name is Esmée, and I’m just now leaving for work, but please go on inside. Ingrid is expecting you.”
Esmée? London wondered as the nurse went up the steps and hurried away.
Anouk hadn’t mentioned anybody named Esmée. But that door was standing open, so London walked on inside. She found herself in an attractive living room with a whole wall of windows looking out over the canal. A small, shiny kitchen was nestled into the other side of the open area.
London was admiring the neat décor when a large woman appeared through a doorway. At almost six feet tall, full-figured and muscular, wearing a blue shirt with a black tie, shoulder insignias, and a badge, she was rather daunting.
Although the woman’s expression was markedly less cheerful than Esmée’s, she spoke cordially enough, “Oh, you must be the visitor Anouk called about. Come with me.”
London followed the woman into a tidy little bedroom with windows overlooking the water. It was furnished with a desk and twin beds. Sitting at the desk was another woman wearing a housecoat and poring over a computer screen through reading glasses. Sheaves of notes and textbooks were stacked up all around her.
“Ingrid, your guest is here,” the tall woman said in Dutch.
The studious woman looked around and smiled at London, her eyes sparkling over her reading glasses.
“Oh, yes,” she said, shaking London’s hand. “Anouk called about you a few minutes ago. Your first name is … the same as a city I think.”
“London. London Rose.”
“Yes, that’s right. What an interesting name. I’m Ingrid, and this is my sister, Femke.”
Ingrid patted the bed and added, “Please have a seat, London.”
London sat down on the bed with Sir Reggie in her lap, and Femke sat on the other bed facing her. Ingrid stayed seated between them at her desk. Although Ingrid wasn’t nearly as formidable as her sister, London could see a family resemblance in their faces.
Meanwhile, Femke’s stern expression softened just a little as she looked at Sir Reggie.
“What an adorable little dog,” she said, reaching a hand toward him.
“Thanks,” London said. “His name is Sir Reggie.”
Instead of welcoming the attention, the little Yorkie stayed huddled in her lap. He seemed to be rather intimidated by the uniformed woman, who withdrew her hand and sat staring at London.
Ingrid looked at London with concern.
“This has something to do with Meneer Schat, doesn’t it?” she said.
“I’m afraid so,” London said. “You see he—”
“Yes, I know,” Ingrid said, gently interrupting. “I didn’t even know his real name until the police told me. They said it was Pier something …”
“Pier Dekker,” London said.
“Yes, and he worked at the Rijksmuseum, didn’t he? I had no idea. It was such a terrible thing that happened to him.
Femke scoffed as if she didn’t think it was such a terrible thing at all.
“Don’t you have to go to work?” Ingrid asked her sister.
“I’ve still got a few minutes,” Femke said to Ingrid, crossing her arms. “The truth is, I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone just now.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Ingrid said to Femke with a musical laugh. “I’m not in any danger.”
Turning toward London, Ingrid said, “The police were here earlier. They wanted to talk to me about Meneer Schat. I guess pretty much the whole Rosse Buurt district knows he’s one of my regulars.”
London couldn’t help feeling jarred by those words.
“My regulars.”
London could tell by Ingrid’s impish smile that she’d noticed London’s moment of awkwardness.
“You’re American, aren’t you?” Ingrid asked London in English.
London nodded.
Ingrid added, “And I guess many things here seem kind of … well, unusual to you.”
London nodded again.
“Well, don’t be shy about asking questions,” she said. “It’s really all right, I won’t be offended.”
London glanced around and stammered, “I—I’m just not sure … I understand this whole …”
“Living arrangement?” Ingrid said.
London nodded yet another time.
“Five of us live here,” Ingrid explained. “We’ve known each other all our lives. My sister Femke is a security guard at the Botanical Garden. Esmée is a nurse at a hospital near here. You might have met her when you arrived. Dora is a hairstylist. She’s at work right now. Anouk and I …”
Ingrid’s grin widened, and London just nodded, aware that the woman was amused at her discomfort.
“I’m also a psychology student at Vrije Universiteit,” Ingrid explained, indicating the books and notes. “And Anouk is a singer-songwriter who plays with a band at night. What we do the rest of the time pays the bills. With five of us, we can afford the rent on this place. It gets a little crowded from time to time, but not very often because we work such different hours.
There’s another bedroom like this. Anouk and I take turns sharing one bed because we work separate shifts, so we’re almost never here at the same time.”
London listened with growing fascination.
It really is a good arrangement, she thought.
In fact, she’d known other groups of young people who’d set up housekeeping in much the same way. In her own earlier years working on large ocean-going ships, she’d shared much less comfortable quarters with several other women. The only difference had been that none of them had been sex workers. But of course, here in Amsterdam, that was considered just another job.
Ingrid’s forehead crinkled with concern.
She said to London, “Anouk told me something about why you wanted to talk to me, but I wasn’t sure I heard it right. Is it true you found Meneer Schat’s body?”
“That’s right,” London said. “My dog and I, anyway.”
“And the police suspect you of murder?” Ingrid said.
“That’s right. And I work aboard a visiting cruise ship, and I’ve got to clear this up so our departure won’t be delayed any more than it has been already. I was wondering if maybe you could help.”
“I’ll do whatever I can,” Ingrid said with a shrug. “I want whoever killed Meneer Schat to be brought to justice. I feel awfully sorry about what happened to him.”
Femke scoffed again.
“I can’t imagine why,” she said, also in English.
“What can you tell me about him?” London asked Ingrid.
“Well, he wasn’t very pleasant,” Ingrid said. “He was almost always in a bad mood whenever he came around. He said cruel and insulting things from time to time. I think he actually hated women generally. But he was never physically abusive. I was never frightened of him. Or at least I wasn’t until …”
Ingrid paused for a moment.
“A few days ago, when he came around, he told me he wanted to marry me. I was special to him, he said, and I was different from all the women he’d ever known, and he wanted us both to start life all over again together. He talked about how he’d support me, and I’d never have to work at any kind job again or even leave the house, and we’d raise lots of children, and …”
Ingrid paused again and shook her head.
Her sister shuddered and said, “It gives me the creeps just to think about it.”
London couldn’t help but shudder as well as she imagined the mean, beady-eyed, and apparently disturbed little man offering Ingrid the sort of life London herself had done her best to escape.
“It really was weird,” Ingrid said. “I hadn’t realized until that moment how obsessed he’d gotten about me, and how delusional. I mean, he didn’t even know my name, and I didn’t know his. I told him he had to go away and not come back, that I didn’t want to see him again. He got very angry, and he said I was just like other women after all, and he stormed away. But he kept prowling around my window, watching me. I must admit, I got very uncomfortable with him then.”
“Of course you did,” Femke said. “Like you said, he hated women. His obsession with you was just another way of showing it. You weren’t a human being to him, just a fantasy. Men like that are dangerous.”
“You’re being awfully harsh,” Ingrid said. “I don’t think he was dangerous, just sad and pathetic.”
“Hah!” Femke snorted.
“You didn’t even know him,” Ingrid protested.
“I knew him better than you think,” Femke said.
Femke quickly raised her hand to her mouth, as if she’d blurted something she hadn’t meant to say. Ingrid looked at her sister with sudden curiosity.
“What do you mean by that?” Ingrid asked Femke.
“Never mind,” Femke said defensively.
“You never even met him.”
“Never mind, I said.”
“No, tell me what you meant.”
London tensed up at the awkward silence that fell between the two sisters. Femke crossed her arms and tapped her feet and frowned.
“I did meet him, actually,” she finally admitted. “He came here to the houseboat once.”
“What!” Ingrid said with a gasp.
“It must have been the day after you told him you wouldn’t see him anymore. I was the only one here at the time. You were at school.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ingrid said.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” Femke said.
“How did he even find out where I lived?” Ingrid asked.
“Maybe he followed you some morning. Or maybe from one of your neighboring workers. Anyway, he turned up here. He didn’t know I was your sister, just figured I was a friend. He told me how much he wanted to marry you, but also that he’d said some things to you that he shouldn’t have, and you were angry with him, and he wanted me to help patch things up between the two of you.”
“What did you say to him?” Ingrid asked.
“Let’s not talk about this right now,” Femke said, indicating London’s presence.
“No, I think we’d better. After all, London came here looking for answers.”
Femke let out a growl-like sound and London heard Sir Reggie grumble in response.
“Let me put it this way,” she said. “Even if he hadn’t gotten killed, he wouldn’t have come around bothering you anymore.”
“Did you threaten him?” Ingrid asked.
“That’s all I’m going to say.”
“Why didn’t you tell the police about this when they came around this morning?”
Femke let out a sarcastic laugh.
“Why do you think I didn’t tell them?” she said.
Another silence fell.
London felt awkward, as though she was intruding on a very private matter. She sensed by the tension in Sir Reggie’s little body that he felt the same way.
She couldn’t help but wonder what Femke had said to the man, but she told herself it was really none of her business.
She actually felt a surge of relief when her cellphone rang.
“Excuse me, I’ve got to take this,” she said to the sisters, who were still glaring at each other.
She stepped out into the hallway and took the call, which was from Elsie.
“London, where are you?” Elsie asked, sounding anxious.
“I’m in town, not far from the boat,” London said.
“Can you get back here pretty quickly?” Elsie asked.
“Is it an emergency?”
Elsie let out a sigh of despair.
“It’s something I don’t know how to handle, anyway. Please come to the lounge right away.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
When London and Sir Reggie reached the Amadeus Lounge, all she could see was the backs of people who were huddled around the bar. She was out of breath from running all the way to the ship from the houseboat and had to wait a moment before she could even ask whether someone was ill or hurt.
“What’s going on?” she finally croaked out.
All the faces turned toward her.
Several of them gasped and others just glared.
They’re not happy to see me, London realized, flashing back to the stern looks she’d gotten in the reception area that morning. She’d suspected then that ugly rumors were flying about her. Apparently, she was right.
“Nothing is going on,” one of the passengers said to her.
“Nothing at all,” another said.
Then the group gathered more tightly together as if they were trying to hide something.
Now London knew that something definitely was going on here.
And I’d better find out what it is.
She picked up Sir Reggie and pushed her way among the passengers, who moved aside grudgingly.
At the bar she found herself face to face with Amy, whose big dark eyes stared up at her defiantly. And just below Amy’s face, another pair of big dark eyes was looking up at London too.
The concierge was clutching something small, furry, a
nd white against her chest.
“You’re going to tell me I can’t keep her, aren’t you?” Amy said in a voice shaking with emotion.
“Who do you mean by ‘her’?” London asked. “What is that, anyhow?”
Amy turned away and set a strange looking little white kitten down on the bar. The little creature immediately started lapping milk out of a bowl that had already been set out for it.
The group of people gathered there resumed what they’d apparently been doing before—oohing and ahhing about how adorable the creature was.
From her place behind the bar, Elsie gazed at London imploringly.
“Please help!” Elsie mouthed silently.
London looked back at Amy, who began to explain anxiously.
“I went out for a walk. Now, don’t scold me for going AWOL, London. It’s not fair that I’m always stuck here working. I was walking through a park when I saw a pair of the loveliest eyes looking up at me through the branches of a bush. I couldn’t just leave poor thing there.”
As if in agreement, the animal opened its mouth and made a little noise. It was an odd, startling sound—more like a high-pitched series of chattering staccato “yips” than a typical kitten’s “mew.”
Sir Reggie let out a bark of alarm at the noise. The dog struggled in London’s arms until she unfastened his leash and let him scamper away.
London wondered—why was her normally fearless Sir Reggie frightened at the sight of a small kitten?
Maybe this is no ordinary kitten, she thought.
It certainly didn’t look ordinary, with its enormous eyes and its large, rounded ears.
“What are you going to do with him?” London asked Amy.
“It’s not a him, it’s a her,” Amy grumbled. “You can tell by her beautiful face.”
“And you want to keep … her?” London asked.
“I’ve already given her a name,” Amy said, petting the creature. “Dewdrop. don’t you think that’s a pretty name?”
London shook her head slowly.
“Amy, there are a lot of problems …” she began.
Amy appealed to the people around her. “Didn’t I tell you this was going to happen?” she said in a protesting whine. “Didn’t I tell you she’d try to make me get rid of my adorable Dewdrop?”
Misfortune (and Gouda) Page 16