DeKok nodded slowly.
“That’s what Bent wants us to believe. But when we left the villa this afternoon, there was a slender woman behind one of the windows of the study we had just left.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Perhaps a daughter?”
DeKok shook his head.
“I could be wrong, but she seemed too old to be a daughter. Besides, I don’t think that Bent has any children living at home.”
Vledder grinned.
“Well, back to cherchez la femme.* Who was the woman behind the window?”
* * *
The phone rang at that moment. DeKok lifted the receiver. Greanheather was on the other end.
“DeKok, you there?”
“Yes.”
“There’s a guy downstairs who wants to talk to you.”
“Who is it?”
“Lowee. He says that’s all the name you need.”
DeKok laughed.
“That’s right. Send him up.”
Deep in thought, he replaced the receiver.
“Little Lowee is coming up.”
Vledder nodded.
“I understand. I’ll make myself scarce. Lowee is a bit shy and he’s got only one friend with the police: the renowned sleuth, Detective-Inspector DeKok.”
The younger man walked over to the coat rack and grabbed his coat.
“I’m going to Haarlem. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”
DeKok waved goodbye.
* * *
DeKok feigned pure amazement when Little Lowee, a bit reluctantly, entered the detective room.
“What’s the matter, Lowee?” he asked. “If I feel like a cognac, you don’t have to deliver. I’ll be happy to come and get it.”
Little Lowee sank down on a chair next to DeKok’s desk and worried nervously with his fingers of which the nails had been bitten to the quick.
“Please, no jokes, Mr. DeKok,” he said anxiously. “I don’t have a lotta time. I can’t stay away too long. You see, somebody is watching the bar and you never know, they steal you blind before you know it.”
DeKok moved his eyebrows in that inimitable manner.
“So, why are you here?”
Lowee’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down.
“I’ve been worrying about it all afternoon. It nags, you know what I mean? I’m just that worried about it, Mr. DeKok.”
“About what?”
Lowee rubbed the back of his hand along his dry lips.
“Lookit, Mr. DeKok, you asked me this morning iffen I had seen anything of Cunning Pete, lately.”
“Yes?”
“Well, eh, I said no, because I thought you were lookin’ for ’im, you know.”
“So, what?”
Little Lowee pulled a sad face.
“I lied, you understand. But it was a good lie, I mean, I thought I was doing the right thing. I seen him a lot, you see. He usta come a lot, lately.”
“Go on.”
“Yes.” The small barkeeper remained silent and stared into the distance. “You see,” he continued, “I wouldn’t have told you, normally … but Pete is dead now.” He lowered his narrow chin toward his chest and rubbed his eyes. There was no doubt that the tiny barkeeper was genuinely moved. “Pete,” he continued finally, with a sob in his voice, “Pete usta tell stories, you know.” He made a helpless gesture. “Mostly people just asked to be lied to, you know. But in his heart, deep down, Pete was a honest guy. Really.” He blinked his eyes, as if to remove a tear. “I swear to you, Mr. DeKok, Pete was as honest as the day is long.”
DeKok looked mockingly at the barkeeper.
“What do you want from me, Lowee? Should I cry, now?”
Lowee sprang up and banged his fist on the desk with surprising strength.
“It’s a damn rotten trick they pulled on that boy, you know that?” His voice was loud and his face was distorted by fury. “Yessir, a damn rotten trick,” he repeated.
DeKok bit his lower lip.
“Yes, to stick somebody from behind with a dagger, yes, Lowee, I agree, that’s a damn rotten trick.”
Little Lowee nodded sadly.
“And all for a coupla bucks.”
DeKok did not react immediately.
“A … eh, a few bucks?” he asked finally.
Lowee ground his teeth.
“Yes, no more than a few filthy bucks. They wanted to cut him out, I bet. Didn’t want to share the loot.”
“Share?”
“Yep, they wanted to cut him out. It’s obvi…, eh, obvi … eh, it’s as clear as anything. You see, Pete knew all about the hold-up.”
DeKok kept his face expressionless. He succeeded with considerable difficulty.
“You’re telling me,” he said slowly, “that Pete knew about the hold-up?”
Lowee nodded vehemently.
“He tole me hisself.”
“How did he know?”
“From the guys.” Lowee made an impatient gesture.
“What guys?”
“Geez, DeKok, the guys that were to do the job, of course.”
“And they are?”
“Iffen I knew that, DeKok … iffen I knew that … I woulda told you. Really. If only outa revenge for Pete.” He looked at the inspector, his head cocked to one side. “You believes me, don’t you?”
DeKok nodded slowly.
“Yes, Lowee, I believe that,” he replied formally.
For a long time they sat silently opposite each other. Each occupied by his own thoughts. Above their heads the defective ballast in one of the light fixtures hummed annoyingly. A drunk in the street tried to sing a melancholy song about dying and crying and trains.
Slowly Lowee rose from his chair.
“I can’t stay any longer,” he said somberly. “I gotta get back.”
DeKok nodded pensively.
“Before you go, Lowee, one more question. Was Pete planning to participate in the hold-up?”
Lowee shook his head.
“Nah, you shoulda known that yourself, DeKok. A hold-up, with guns and all. That wasn’t Pete’s style. Pete was a story teller, all right, a con-man, but never any violence. He never liked violence. He just talked people outa their money.”
* * *
With a tired gesture, DeKok rubbed his face with both hands.
“Did Pete tell you how large the haul was going to be?”
A thoughtful expression appeared on the friendly, mousy face of Little Lowee.
“Yeah, wait a minute, he talked about that. At least half a million, he said. Nowheres near three million as it says in the papers.” He suddenly looked searchingly at DeKok. “Say, that three million ain’t no funny stuff of you guys, is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Now, to make the guys go crazy, of course.”
“How so?”
“Geez, DeKok, you’re real dense today. I mean, half a million is gone, you guys make it three million. Before you knows it, the guys are fighting with each other about the missing loot. One may get pissed enough to tell you about it.”
DeKok shook his head.
“No, there really seems to be three million on the loose.”
Lowee whistled between his teeth.
“Nice day’s work.”
DeKok laughed.
“So, Cunning Pete really believed the haul wouldn’t be much bigger that five hundred thousand?”
“Yes.”
“But Pete did want to share in part of it?”
“I think so, yes.”
“Why?”
Lowee shrugged his shoulders.
“Because he knew about it, of course.”
“That’s the only reason?”
“Yes.”
“Hush money,” grinned DeKok.
“You mean, he was gonna talk, otherwise?”
“Exactly.”
Lowee shook his head.
“Never. Pete wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“He could have threatened it.”
Lowee made an annoyed gesture.
“Pete wasn’t that sort. Nossir. He wasn’t a canary. I tole you: Pete was as honest as the day is long. He just figured on some pocket money, that’s all.”
DeKok sighed.
“But why did Pete tell you about it?”
Again Lowee shrugged his narrow shoulders.
“Ach, you know how it goes. A drink, pissed off, another drink … and then come the tales…”
DeKok nodded his understanding. He stood up and placed a fatherly hand on the slight shoulders of the small barkeeper.
“Thanks for coming,” he said simply.
Lowee walked toward the door with bent head. Halfway to the door he stopped, turned around and walked back to the desk. He stopped in front of the gray sleuth.
“I … eh, I don’t always agree with you, DeKok.” His voice quivered with emotion. “Most of the time I don’t, I should say. But this time, yes, this time, I hope you get them bastards real quick.”
DeKok gave him a friendly grin.
“I’ll do my best, Lowee.”
After the barkeeper had left, DeKok sat down again. He held his head between his hands, the elbows on the edge of the desk.
He let the entire conversation with Lowee pass in review. Every word, every intonation, every gesture was remembered. Not in his wildest imagination would he have suspected that there was a connection between the murder of Pete Geffel and the hold-up. It had been a complete revelation. There remained the question about the exact relationship between the two events. What had been Pete’s role? Of course, Pete was usually involved in some sort of semi-respectable business. It was his business. He was a con-man, one of the best. Honest as the day was long. Lowee’s testimonial could hardly be taken seriously. It was no more, nor less, than an obituary for a dead partner in crime. After all, thought DeKok, in addition to his apparently respectable front as a barkeeper, Lowee had, at one time or another, broken nearly all of God’s Commandments. It was certain that he still dealt in stolen goods; was, in fact, one of the foremost fences of the Quarter. Pete, also, was more than an ordinary con-man. His actions sometimes hovered dangerously close to blackmail. It was not at all unlikely that someone had seen Pete’s death as the only possible solution to his, or her, own problems. Blackmailers led a precarious life.
But, when all was said and done, the fact that Pete Geffel knew about the plans for the hold-up was enough reason for DeKok to get involved with the murder in Seadike. Despite the warning from the Commissaris to the contrary. And that, in itself …
His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. He lifted the receiver. An excited Vledder was on the other end of the line.
“Guess what?”
“You call me to play guessing games?”
“The Simca 1500 that was stolen from Haarlem, belongs to a certain Bergen.”
“So?”
“You know who Bergen is?”
“Not yet.”
“One of the managers of B&G.”
“What!?”
“Yes, one of the people who knew that this particular transport was heavy on cash. He knew about the three million.”
5
DeKok gave Vledder a hearty welcome.
“I’m glad you got back so quickly, from Haarlem,” he called jovially. “You see, I want to pay another visit to Mother Geffel.”
Vledder unbuttoned his coat.
“Mother Geffel?”
“Yes.”
“Tonight still?”
“Yes.”
“A condolence visit?”
DeKok nodded slowly.
“You could call it that, yes, to express our sympathy.”
Vledder looked at him suspiciously. His sharp eyes took in DeKok’s innocent face. He tried to read the true meaning behind the bald statement. But DeKok’s friendly face did not reveal any answers.
“I should remind you,” grinned Vledder, “that the Commissaris has prohibited you from any participation in the Geffel case.”
DeKok pushed his lower lip forward and shook his head.
“I … eh, I don’t think I can obey the Commissaris in this.”
Vledder looked at him in astonishment.
“Why not?”
“Because Pete Geffel knew everything about the hold-up.”
“What!?”
“Yes, in a confidential mood, he told Little Lowee all about it.”
For a moment Vledder was speechless. In a series of quick, brief thought associations he tried to incorporate the news into the overall picture he had built up so far.
“Is that why Pete was killed?”
“What, why?”
“Because he knew about the hold-up.”
“I don’t think so,” answered DeKok pensively. “I don’t think it was that. The mere fact that he knew about the hold-up would not have been enough reason to kill him. There must have been more who knew about the hold-up, friends, family of the crooks and so on. As a rule they don’t keep their mouth shut, they like to boast.”
“Perhaps Pete threatened to betray them.”
DeKok cocked his head at his younger colleague. His eyebrows rippled briefly.
“Even before the hold-up?”
“Yes.”
DeKok shook his head.
“No, Dick. Pete would never have been that dumb. It wasn’t for nothing that he was known as Cunning Pete. He had quite a reputation in the underworld.” He raised a finger in the air. “I’m almost positive that if Pete had the idea to make some money from his knowledge, he would have waited until after the hold-up. He would have had all the time in the world to make his demands and, a secure feeling for a blackmailer, would have known that his victims had the means to pay him. Considering the haul they made, they might not even have minded, not much, anyway.” He paused and drummed his fingers on the desk. “Still,” he continued after a while, “Pete was killed on the night before the hold-up. And that’s rather strange.”
Vledder shrugged his shoulders.
“Perhaps the guys who did the hold-up anticipated Pete’s blackmail attempt and just got him out of the way to be on the safe side. You know, just as a precaution.”
DeKok bit his lower lip.
“Possibly,” he said, deep in thought, “just maybe. But it does seem rather far-fetched. I mean, kill somebody before he has even done anything? That’s … eh, that’s just too precipitous. There has to be another, more reasonable motive.”
“All right, what?”
DeKok ambled over to the coat rack.
“If you’ve got trouble sleeping, tonight, meditate upon that question.”
He pulled on his coat, pressed his little, old felt hat on top of his head.
“Come on, we’ll go see Mother Geffel.”
Vledder followed without protest.
* * *
Ever since her wedding day, old lady Geffel had lived in the small, spotless house on the quiet side of the Lily Canal. The house always smelled of coffee and furniture polish. A rather heavy-set neighbor woman opened the door. She raised her eyebrows with a questioning expression when she saw the two inspectors on the doorstep. DeKok lifted his hat.
“We … eh,” he said hesitatingly, “we want to express our sympathy to Mrs. Geffel about the loss of her son.”
The neighbor pressed her heavy body against the side of the corridor.
“Please come in,” she said, “she’s inside.”
There were a lot of people in the small living room. Family, friends and acquaintances with sad faces. Mother Geffel was seated in a chair next to the window. When DeKok entered she looked at him with a teary face. For just a moment it seemed as if she would cry again. But she controlled herself and with surprising strength she gripped both hands of the gray sleuth.
“I always warned my Pete, Mr. DeKok,” she said sadly. “You know that. I always said he would come to a bad end. But he would never listen, not to me, or to anyb
ody. He always knew everything better.”
She shook her head.
“And how much did Uncle Gus Shenk not do for him? Ever since my husband died, he always kept an eye on the boy. But all for nothing. He always thought that life was nothing but a game and all the people in the world were there only to amuse Pete Geffel.”
Her voice sounded bitter.
“Oh, yes,” she went on in a changed tone, “they always did laugh at his jokes, his tricks. They laughed too much you know. That was the problem. It was that way when he was only a kid and he was always the center of attention. We never saw how wrong that could be. First it was Funny Pete, then Handy Pete and finally just Cunning Pete. You see, that’s how it happened. It became worse all the time and it’s my fault. From the beginning I should have been much more strict…”
DeKok placed one of his large hands tenderly on the shoulder of the old woman.
“I wouldn’t blame myself too much if I were you, Mrs. Geffel. There’s no reason for that at all, at all. It’s not your fault and I know that.” He sighed. “How could you have prevented his death? How? You could hardly keep him by the hand all the time. There was no way to tie him to your apron strings. No, Pete was old enough and wise enough to take care of himself.”
The old woman sobbed softly.
“And lately there was such an improvement. I was so happy. After all, you do want what’s best for your child, don’t you? He had met a girl, a nice, kind girl. He would do anything for her. I’d never seen anything like it. He couldn’t care less about girls, as a rule. But this one was different. He even contacted an employment agency, looking for regular work.”
DeKok’s eyebrows danced briefly across his forehead.
“Work?” he asked.
“Oh, yes, he had serious plans.”
“Marriage?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the name of the girl?”
“Florentine … Florentine La Croix.”
“A beautiful name,” admired DeKok.
A vague smile fled across the wrinkled face of the old woman.
“But he didn’t call her Florentine. That was too ostentatious, he said. He called her Flossie … just Flossie.” She gestured. “That was my Pete. That was his way. He had a special name for everybody and everything.” She looked up at him, a bit shyly, a hint of a naughty twinkle in her eye. “He had a special name for you too,” she said. “He called you the Cocque of the walk. He was so clever. He frenchified your name, you see,” she explained superfluously. “Cocque means rooster in French, you see, and thus…”
DeKok and the Sorrowing Tomcat Page 4