“If you see one of the guys I’m looking for,” he whispered, “I trust you to let me know.”
The barkeeper nodded mechanically. For the moment he had no resistance left. The gathering and the echoes of Shenk’s eloquence had taken the fight out of him.
DeKok wondered why Lowee was protecting the crooks. There was no denying the fact that the whiskey bottle he had found in the warehouse originated in Lowee’s bar. There was no question about it. The label was marked with Lowee’s private identification. It was ironic, but it had been DeKok’s idea originally. When several years ago Lowee had systematically been robbed by a cleaning lady who absconded with several bottles a day, it had been difficult to find evidence. DeKok had advised the barkeeper to mark his bottles in a certain way. It had become a habit. Again he nudged the barkeeper.
“Well?”
Lowee seemed to recover from a half dazed state.
“The boys ain’t here,” he retorted sharply. He paused. “And iffen they was here, I wouldn’t tell ye.”
DeKok cocked his head at him.
“So, you know who they are.”
“Yes.”
“And you hid them from me,” said DeKok bitterly. “You hid them in that old warehouse.”
Lowee shook his head.
“I gave ’em food and something to drink. No more.”
DeKok nodded slowly.
“How did you find out they were on Farmer’s Alley?”
“Somebody tipped me.”
“And where are they now?”
Lowee turned abruptly toward the cop.
“Are we gonna play those games all over again?” His tone was belligerent. “They’s gone. They couldn’t stay any longer because of the boy. He needed a doc.”
“Go on.”
Lowee sighed.
“He’s being took care of.”
“Medical care?”
“That too.”
“Why wait so long?”
“Wadda you mean?”
DeKok gave him a hard, long look.
“That boy has for several days been kept on a bunch of rags in the Alley, without anybody taking care of him. Why didn’t they get a doctor at once?”
Lowee stared in front of him, avoiding DeKok’s eyes.
“Doctors that don’t ask questions, cost bread.”
DeKok grinned.
“So what? They certainly had plenty.”
Lowee did not answer.
DeKok was beginning to get angry. The rigid attitude of the small barkeeper was getting on his nerves. He pressed his lips together, took a deep breath and said:
“After all, there was plenty of money.” He hissed the words.
Little Lowee looked pale.
“I,” he answered softly, “I paid for the doc.”
“You?”
Lowee started to walk faster. He closed up to the end of the procession.
DeKok knew he had to wait for a better opportunity. Perhaps later, in the bar. He fervently hoped that Lowee would come forth on his own account. He had, after all, a weakness for the slender barkeeper and he did not feel like spoiling their friendship of years with an arrest. He shifted his attention back to the procession that slowly moved along the gravel paths of the cemetery. In the forefront, above their heads, the coffin bobbed on the shoulders of the pallbearers. They stopped next to the open grave. The coffin was lifted from the shoulders with routine, much practiced movements and placed on the grave lift. The mourners formed a rough circle around the hole in the ground. DeKok was on the alert. He looked sharply at the faces around him. He always made it a point to attend the funerals of murder victims. He knew so well that there were a number of killers who could not resist attending the funerals of their victims.
Suddenly he saw a face in the circle opposite him. Almost at the rear of the crowd he discovered a man with sharp features in a deeply creased face. It gave DeKok a sudden shock. He had first met the man a short time ago, just a few days. The face seemed to have aged years since the last time he saw it. Their glances crossed each other. Just for a moment. For a short moment in time they looked deep into each other’s eyes. Then the man ducked.
Old Gus Shenk stepped forward and expressed thanks on behalf of the family of the deceased. DeKok pulled his head into the collar of his coat and circled around the rear of the crowd to the place where he had seen the man. But the man was gone when he arrived on the spot. With quick steps DeKok followed the gravel paths to the exit. He hoped to be able to overtake the man before he left the cemetery. Numerous questions burned on his tongue. But when he turned the corner of the Chapel, he saw the black Bentley just clear the gate.
DeKok slowed down. He panted for breath. He was not used to exerting himself this way. Pensively he looked after the car. Bent must have run to make it so quickly to his car. Why? Why was he in such a hurry to leave? It seemed more like a flight. After all, it was a free country. He was certainly allowed to attend Pete Geffel’s funeral. DeKok decided to call on Bent again, very soon.
* * *
Vledder looked reproachfully at DeKok.
“You could have told me ahead of time that you were going to the funeral.”
“Why?”
Vledder made an impatient gesture.
“If I had known, I would have come straight to the cemetery from Haarlem. Now I’ve wasted two hours waiting for you.”
DeKok’s eyebrows vibrated briefly and then stilled.
“Wasted time?” he asked, surprised. “But surely you could have used those two hours productively.”
A slight suspicion seemed to glimmer in Vledder’s eyes.
“What could I have done?” he asked, unsure of himself.
“Think,” was the laconic reply. “You could have spent your time thinking. For instance: who killed Peter Geffel, aka Cunning Pete and why? Who actually executed the hold-up? Did they really steal three million? If so, where is the money? If not, who committed fraud? As you see, there was no need to ‘waste’ two hours. There are plenty of problems.”
Vledder nodded willingly.
“You’re right,” he said. His face and his voice were serious. “There are indeed plenty of problems. Too many, if you ask me. There seems to be little progress. Things don’t compute. We’ve been at it for four days already and we’re almost as far as we were in the beginning. It’s disheartening.”
DeKok raised a hand in protest.
“I don’t agree with you there. We just haven’t yet figured out how the various pieces fit together. That’s about it. It still looks very much like a jig-saw puzzle and so far we only have a few pieces in place. But I’m confident that we’ll solve the mystery before long. We’re a lot closer to the guys that committed the robbery, for instance.”
Vledder looked at him with bewilderment.
“Why do you say that? We know where they used to hang out, at Farmer’s Alley. But that’s all.”
DeKok smiled.
“This morning, more or less under duress, Little Lowee told me that he knew them.”
“But that’s great.”
“Perhaps. But he wasn’t about to reveal any names. He admitted that he knew about the warehouse and he admitted that he supplied them with food and drink. The whiskey bottle, for instance, came from his bar.”
“And what else?”
“What do you mean … what else?”
Vledder made a peevish gesture.
“Surely you tried to get him to talk?”
DeKok sighed.
“Of course I tried, Dick. I tried just about everything to get him to talk. I even forced him to come to Pete’s funeral in the hope of weakening him. Lowee is a pretty sentimental guy, you know. But nothing worked.”
“So, now what?”
DeKok shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t know,” he answered hesitantly. “There’s something strange about Lowee’s attitude. You see, a robbery is a robbery. But murder is a different kettle of fish altogether.” He paused, gathered
his thoughts. “Especially in Amsterdam. Among the regular crowd of criminals, murder is taken very seriously, indeed. I don’t mean to include the drug trade, you know. No, among the robbers, the burglars, the petty thieves, in short, among the common criminals murder is almost unheard of. And when one of their own is killed, the whole underworld is against them. Lowee must really feel very strongly that the robbers had nothing to do with Pete’s killing.”
“How does that follow?”
“Well, I don’t think that Lowee would have taken care of them, otherwise, or that he would have kept it a secret from me if he had even the slightest doubt about their innocence. Lowee is an old-fashioned crook, so to speak.”
Vledder laughed scornfully.
“Three million is a lot of money.”
DeKok’s eyebrows rippled in earnest this time.
“What do you mean by that remark?”
Vledder shrugged his shoulder.
“Nothing,” he said reluctantly, unable to tear his gaze away from DeKok’s forehead. “Nothing. I just mean to say … that … a lot of people have done worse for a lot less money.”
DeKok looked intently at his protegee.
“You’re rather cynical, all of a sudden.”
Vledder sighed elaborately.
“Ach,” he said, obviously irritated. It was not quite certain with what, or with whom he was irritated. “You’re probably right. Lowee is indeed an ‘honest’ crook. After all, you know him a lot better than me. But the whole case bothers me, that’s all. I just can’t see an end to it. It’s all so vague, so, so … circumstantial. If the perpetrators of the robbery aren’t guilty of Pete’s death, who is?”
DeKok did not answer. He stood up from his chair and started to pace up and down the detective room. Every once in a while he would look at Vledder who remained seated with a rebellious look on his face. The younger man stared obstinately into the distance. DeKok wondered if, perhaps, he had not given him enough to do, or maybe he had given him the less important role. Possibly he had done his younger colleague an injustice, not shared enough with him.
He stopped in front of Vledder.
“You were in Haarlem. Has Thornbush surfaced yet?”
Vledder shook his head.
“No, he’s now been missing since last night and Mrs. Thornbush is getting more and more worried. She looked worried. Apparently she was awake all night. Even before I showed up, she had already called his office three times. But Thornbush hasn’t appeared there, either.”
DeKok nodded slowly.
“Then what did you do?”
“I took as accurate a description from Mrs. Thornbush as she could give me. She also gave me a photo. I added the facts we already know. Then I prepared an APB and had it transmitted from Haarlem. I requested location and apprehension.”
DeKok nodded approval.
“Nothing much else you could do, under the circumstances.” He paused and pulled on his lower lip. There was a pensive look in his eyes. Then he said: “Yet, the mysterious disappearance of Thornbush is a remarkable coincidence. I don’t believe in coincidences. We’d do well to keep a close eye on that development.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a little finger. “I wonder where the man can be?” he added.
The phone rang at that moment. DeKok lifted the receiver.
“I saw you at the cemetery.” Despite the whispering tones, DeKok immediately recognized Flossie’ voice. “I half expected that you would have a cup of coffee with me after the funeral.” She laughed without humor. “As a sort of compensation for the coffee you didn’t drink at my place.”
“I … I ran out of time. As you know, I’m also investigating a murder.”
“Any news?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
For a long time it remained silent on the other end of the line. Then she said:
“Did you know that Thornbush has a long-standing affair with Bent’s young wife?”
15
“Hello … hello!”
DeKok threw the receiver back on the hook.
“She hung up.”
“Who?”
“Flossie. She wanted to know if I had any news and when I answered in the negative, she asked if I knew that Thornbush had an affair with Bent’s wife.”
Vledder grinned.
“The Secretary and the wife of the President.”
DeKok nodded.
“Indeed, an interesting twist on an almost classical situation.”
Vledder’s eyes lit up.
“Perhaps Mrs. Bent is ‘Second Ticket’?”
DeKok pushed his lower lip forward.
“She could also have been the woman who sent us to Schiphol last night. In any case, as long as he doesn’t show up, it may be a good idea to keep an eye on the women around our elusive Secretary. One of them probably knows where he is.”
Vledder looked at him.
“Do you think that the disappearance of Thornbush means little more than that he’s stepping out on his wife?”
Inspector DeKok pulled a serious face and shook his head.
“It’s more. It means a lot more than that. The disappearance of Thornbush is important to the case as a whole. I firmly believe that Thornbush really planned to flee the country last night. It would be interesting to know what prevented him.”
“Perhaps he picked a different escape route at the last moment.”
“Possibly, but then there had to be something that caused him to change his original plans. I wonder what that could have been.”
* * *
They remained silent for a long time. DeKok pulled his legs up and placed them on top of the desk and leaned comfortably back in his chair. His forced march on the cemetery was having its effect. Vledder was the first to break the silence.
“But you know what I don’t understand? Why would Thornbush run off? We have no proof at all of his complicity, either with the robbery, or with Pete’s killing. To flee like that would only make sense if he had the loot.”
“And?”
“What … and?”
“And why shouldn’t he be in possession of the loot?”
Vledder looked stupefied.
“You forget about the guys that did the actual hold-up. After all, they didn’t do that just for amusement.”
“You mean, they wouldn’t just hand over the proceeds?”
“Exactly.”
“And if there was fraud as well?” asked DeKok thoughtfully.
Vledder creased his forehead, the closest he could come to frowning in DeKok’s inimitable manner.
“Aha, you’re starting to take our theory serious! You believe there may very well be a difference between the reported amount and the actual amount. Insurance fraud seems more possible to you?”
“Yes.”
Vledder shook his head.
“Well, you see, I have problems with that. At least in connection with Thornbush. I just don’t think it would be all that easy for him to set something like that up all by himself.”
DeKok gestured.
“Even so, he could have possession of the loot. You understand, even with the connivance of one, or more of the other members of management. After all, if it is a matter of fraud, the accomplices would hardly start to divvy up the loot at once. Thus it would not be at all unusual if Thornbush had been appointed to take care of the money until the spoils could be divided. No, not unlikely at all, at all.”
“Then, why don’t we arrest the whole bunch?”
DeKok grinned wickedly.
“For the same reasons as last night. In fact, nothing has really changed.”
Vledder looked at him for a long time, deep in thought.
“Do you think…,” he began after a while, hesitantly, looking for words. “Do you … eh, think that Thornbush on his own, last night … I mean, without telling his accomplices … that he might have attempted to take off with all the money? And that … eh, maybe that became known somehow?”
DeKok nodded slowly.
“Something like that … yes.”
Vledder swallowed.
“B-but … but,” he stammered, “in that case, in that case the disappearance of Thornbush means something entirely different. Then…” He stopped, confused.
DeKok nodded encouragingly.
“Go on,” he said.
The young Inspector swallowed once more.
“In that case Thornbush committed treason, I mean … he betrayed his accomplices. You know what that means, DeKok? These are people who are not afraid to kill. We’ve seen that already with Pete Geffel. If we don’t find Thornbush real soon, I don’t give a plugged nickel for his chances of survival.”
* * *
They found the missing Simca about halfway between Amsterdam and Utrecht near a small village along the banks of a smaller river with the incongruous name of Joy, just past the old windmill that had seen better days. The shiny bumper was pressed hard against a pair of rotting willows with bare branches that poked at the gray sky. At first glance there seemed to be no damage to the exterior of the vehicle, until one noticed the two bullet holes in the trunk.
Sergeant-Major Windt of the State Police leaned against his bicycle close by with a bored look on his face. He looked at the two Inspectors from Amsterdam.
“I think,” said the sergeant-major in a gravelly voice, “that the car must have been placed there last night, during the night I mean. Last evening, during my last rounds, it wasn’t there. I’m sure of that. I couldn’t have missed it. I saw it for the first time this afternoon.”
“At what time?”
“About two o’clock. I had just come from Town Hall,” he waved vaguely in the direction of a church tower in the distance. “Then I started my afternoon rounds.” He nodded, pursed his lips and repeated: “Yes, it must have been just after two.”
DeKok nodded.
“We’re very grateful for your prompt notification,” he said formally.
“Yes, well, I saw at once that it was the car you were looking for. The two bullet holes were clear enough.”
DeKok smiled.
DeKok and the Sorrowing Tomcat Page 12