DeKok and the Somber Nude

by A. C. Baantjer

  It was obviously difficult for the broker to absorb the statement. All color drained from his face. Suddenly he looked years older—just a tired, worried businessman. After a long while he looked up.

  “She left no message?”

  DeKok sighed.

  “You don’t seem to grasp the situation, Mr. Staaten. Nanette is gone, and I don’t think she went voluntarily. I’m afraid that something has happened to her, you understand? Something serious.”

  Staaten smiled sadly to himself.

  “No,” he said with a weary sigh, “nothing has happened to Nanette. Nothing serious, I mean. She’s just fled. She has escaped from the consequences of promising to marry me.” He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I should never have asked her. I should never have forced the commitment.” He sighed again. “She didn’t want to hurt my feelings, that’s all, didn’t want to refuse me. That’s why she agreed. It isn’t her fault. I should have been wiser.”

  DeKok’s eyebrows formed an interesting shape. It was too bad Staaten was not in the mood to appreciate it.

  “You think that she’s disappeared in order to escape a promise of marriage?”

  “Yes, absolutely. There is no other explanation. Nanette has simply realized the age difference. She’s just scared.” He smiled a bitter smile full of irony. “After all, I’m not exactly a young Adonis,” he concluded.

  All this time young Vledder had leaned against a far wall almost unnoticed. He had listened carefully to the conversation between DeKok and the stockbroker. Not a single word, not even an inflection had escaped him. Slowly a theory had formed in the back of his mind, and slowly it took on more substance. He looked at his old mentor and waited for an opening.

  DeKok saw his eager look and nodded permission. He walked over to the window and gave his pupil room to continue the interrogation of Staaten.

  Vledder came closer.

  “How did you envision the marriage between you and Nanette, Mr. Staaten? Were you planning a prenuptial or postnuptial agreement? After all, you’re a wealthy man. Were you planning to marry Nanette under the community property laws, or were there going to be certain safeguards?”

  Confused, he looked at Vledder.

  “Well, eh, to tell you the truth, I never really thought about it.”

  “Perhaps not you, but others?”

  Staaten’s face became expressionless.

  “You mean…”

  “Ronald is your only son, your sole heir.”

  Staaten reacted strongly.

  “What are you trying to imply?” His voice was sharp and challenging.

  Vledder smiled faintly.

  “Based on your reaction,” he said calmly, “you know exactly what I’m trying to suggest, Mr. Staaten. With you marrying Nanette, Ronald would be an injured party, in a matter of speaking. At the very least he would lose a great part of his inheritance. If we’re looking for a motive connected with Nanette’s disappearance, then your son—”

  Wildly gesticulating, Staaten jumped to his feet. In a blind, uncontrollable rage he took his tormentor by the throat and pressed down on Dick Vledder’s windpipe. It blindsided Vledder, and for a moment he was too shocked to move. But all at once he sprang into action. The elder Staaten was no match for the young, athletic Vledder. With a quick movement he took hold of the stockbroker and pushed him away.

  DeKok came closer, visibly upset. He pushed Vledder aside, took the shaking broker by the arm, and led him to another room. There he placed him on a chair and gave him a glass of water.

  “You must control yourself, Mr. Staaten,” he said sternly and reprovingly. “My colleague only made a suggestion, a reasonable suggestion. It was not an accusation.”

  He pressed the glass of water on him.

  “Here, have another sip. When you have calmed down, you’re going home. Once there, ask your son to contact us. I must put a few official questions to him.”

  Staaten looked at the old inspector.

  “Are you going to arrest him?”

  DeKok rubbed his hand over his chin.

  “Why should I? Did he kill Nanette?”

  11

  Vledder stood in front of the mirror and looked at the red streaks on his neck. DeKok stood behind him, looking over his shoulder.

  “How is it, my boy?” he asked with concern. “Does it hurt?”

  Vledder shook his head.

  “No, no, it doesn’t hurt,” he answered, irritated. “Not much, anyway. It just looks terrible, worse than it is. Tonight I’ll have to explain it all to Celine. There’s no way she won’t notice.”

  “And,” said DeKok, slightly mocking, “will she be overly concerned?”

  Vledder turned abruptly. “Do you find that strange? Celine being concerned for me? She isn’t at all happy about my assignment with you here at homicide. She’s heard from some of our colleagues that you have a habit of getting involved with all sorts of strange cases. She’s afraid, really.”

  DeKok snorted.

  “Some of our colleagues are just like old women. They talk too much. But if you’d rather have another partner, that can be arranged.”

  Vledder’s face changed under the influence of conflicting emotions.

  “No, DeKok,” he said shocked. “I don’t mean it that way. I don’t want another partner. On the contrary, I couldn’t have found a better partner. There’s nobody I’d rather work with.”

  “You flatter me,” grinned DeKok. “Indeed you flatter me.”

  Vledder rubbed his neck again.

  “Staaten has a considerable amount of strength in those skinny fingers. Dammit, it was like a steel trap. If we ever find out that Nanette was strangled, we’ll know who the perpetrator was.”

  “And I rather thought that you favored his son as a suspect.”

  “True, I do. So far he’s the only one with a clear motive. Ronald was interested in making Nanette disappear. You know,” he said suddenly, “Staaten realized immediately how strong a motive Ronald has. It literally ambushed him. That’s why he became so angry.”

  DeKok nodded.

  “He reacted from a sense of guilt.”

  “Guilt?”

  “Yes, guilt. If you ask me, Staaten felt guilty about his amorous relationship with Nanette. And he felt guilty about the marriage proposal. For a man concerned with public opinion it was tantamount to sin…certainly against the customs and mores of society. His attitude during the interrogation points to it as well. He was constantly in a sort of aggressive, adversarial position, as if we were accusing him and passing a moral judgment. He defended his relations with Nanette, although there was no reason to do so at all. Neither you nor I even hinted at it.” DeKok paused, as if gathering his thoughts, then continued his impromptu summation. “But his sharpest reaction came later. His most aggressive behavior didn’t surface until you pointed out that his relationship with Nanette might appear detrimental to the welfare of his son. The idea that his son might conceive of murder rather than accept Nanette as his stepmother opened a floodgate. Intellectually he had no defense, no reasonable argument against it. That’s why he attacked you.”

  DeKok remain silent. For a while he stared at nothing in particular.

  “It is always, eh, difficult,” he continued slowly, “perhaps even dangerous to try and analyze someone’s reactions and to use that analysis to come to a conclusion. This is especially true when one is not familiar with the background. It becomes speculative. But in my personal view, Staaten’s attack on you was a sort of confession, an admission of guilt. In his heart, in his deepest thoughts, he has already considered your suggestion and believes it to be possible.” He raised a finger into the air. “You must keep in mind that Staaten is an intelligent man. Don’t forget he’s a stockbroker, someone very capable of weighing a number of different factors and drawing a sound conclusion—the right conclusion, more often than not, or he would not have been able to amass such a fortune.”

  Looking at his finger as if surpri
sed to find it there, he used it to rub the bridge of his nose.

  “He must have considered all the pros and cons of his intended marriage to Nanette, and his son must have been an important part of his deliberations. When you offered the possibility that Ronald might have a valid motive for killing Nanette, I half expected him to counter with a superior attitude. The worst I anticipated was an arrogant smile, as if you’d uttered something off the wall. But he didn’t do that, you understand. He did not reject your suggestion. He reacted as he did—quickly, furiously, guilt ridden.”

  Vledder looked at his mentor with wide eyes.

  “Yes, yes, I understand,” he answered, shaken. “Staaten did not ridicule the suggestion, because he’s very well aware that his son is capable of murder.”

  DeKok nodded slowly.

  “Indeed, that’s the way I see it. And we’ll have to keep that in mind as we progress.”

  Suddenly Vledder laughed loudly.

  “I can’t help it,” he grinned, “but I think it’s a strange case, all in all.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, we run from one clue to another, we see suspects behind every corner, and hold long, philosophical conversations about all sorts of possibilities, but if you think about it, nothing has really happened yet.”

  Surprised, DeKok looked at him.

  “A girl has disappeared, remember?”

  “Well yes, but was there a crime?”

  “Listen to me, son,” DeKok sounded resigned. “Theoretically there’s always a chance we’ll find Nanette unharmed. But the longer this investigation goes on, the longer she’s gone, the less I believe it. More than a day has passed, and we have been unable to get any proof of a living Nanette. On the contrary, we’ve found quite a few indications that a number of people might be interested in a dead Nanette.” DeKok sighed deeply. “It sounds sinister, but that’s the way it is.”

  Vledder countered, “You said a number of people, plural. Apart from Ronald Staaten, I don’t see anybody else having a motive. There are more, you think?”

  “Most certainly. For instance, have you forgotten Brother Laurens? Who’s that then?”

  “You refer, I presume, to the name mentioned by Frank Bogaard. According to him, he heard the name in connection with drugs.”

  “Exactly. But because of this painting business, he’s been moved to the back burner. Regardless, I’m still very much interested in Brother Laurens as a possible suspect.”

  “A possible suspect?” scoffed Vledder. “You don’t even know who he is.”

  “That’s not necessary. I mean, even without knowing Brother Laurens we can come to a number of interesting, almost obvious conclusions.”

  “Such as?”

  DeKok sat on the corner of his desk. His relatively short legs swung back and forth. Amused, he looked at young Vledder, a gentle smile on his craggy face.

  “Think, my boy,” he said. “Think hard!”

  “What is there to think about?” asked Vledder, irritated. “We don’t even know if Laurens is a first name or surname.”

  Approvingly, DeKok nodded.

  “Very good,” he said encouragingly, “very good. Both are possible, and we’re only guessing at the spelling. It could be Lawrence, Lorentz, or Laurens, the more common Dutch spelling. What about the term Brother? Where do we normally use that appellation in front of the name?”

  Vledder grimaced.

  “We’d use it in the religious sense, for a monk. Otherwise, maybe for a member of a fraternity or union. Perhaps even a family relationship.”

  DeKok shook his head.

  “I was thinking of a different connection altogether.”

  “Not religious? No other kind of brotherhood?”

  “No.”

  Suddenly Vledder’s face cleared.

  “I have it—in medicine! Of course, a nurse is often referred to as ‘sister,’ especially with all the English influence in the language. Now there are more and more male nurses, so people might refer to one of them as ‘brother.’”

  “Excellent. And what is the occupational residence of a male nurse?”

  “That’s easy, usually a hospital, sanitarium, maybe a rest home.”

  DeKok pushed his lower lip forward.

  “Now think of drugs.”

  “Dammit, yes!” exclaimed Vledder enthusiastically. “You’re right—hospital, drugs, morphine. Brother Laurens, that’s it! A male nurse must be Nanette’s supplier. It’s the only answer, the missing link. Brother Laurens steals the morphine from whatever hospital he works in, passes it on to Nanette, who supplies Frank to help him with his writer’s block.”

  DeKok laughed at Vledder’s enthusiastic tone and excitement. He raised a cautioning finger in the air.

  “As usual,” he grinned, “you’re much too eager. You’re overlooking a number of important questions.”

  “Questions?”

  “Just think a moment. Why would Brother Laurens deliver drugs to Nanette? Why would he run the risk?”

  Vledder stared at his mentor with a questioning look on his face.

  “I don’t know, why?” he asked finally.

  “Well remember, Nanette wasn’t—isn’t, if we still want to assume she’s alive—interested in money. She couldn’t have cared less about it, or so we’ve been told. Frank Bogaard told us she didn’t want any money from him, and I believe him.” DeKok lowered his finger. “So how could Nanette afford that?” he continued. “I mean, financially? As far as we know she didn’t have any money of her own. Her sole capital was her share in the flower shop. You’ll recall Kristel is the financial manager. She simply didn’t have the funds. Yet she supplied Frank regularly.”

  “Okay then,” Vledder nodded in agreement, “so you’re telling me Brother Laurens’s reward was something other than money? Money wasn’t his motive for accommodating Nanette?”

  “Exactly. So I repeat, why did he supply Nanette? Was he in love with her? Or was Nanette blackmailing him?”

  “Blackmail?”

  DeKok nodded. His face was serious.

  “Yes. If we consider Frank Bogaard’s physical condition, or rather his physical deterioration, Nanette has been supplying him for some time. He’s been using for at least a year, maybe more. Something has compelled our Brother Laurens to continue to deliver considerable quantities of morphine, and remember that even after just a short period of time this becomes more and more dangerous. The chance of getting caught increases with every theft. Apparently Nanette had a very strong hold over Brother Laurens. I only know one explanation for such a strong hold over a person: blackmail!”

  DeKok made a careful gesture, and then continued. “However that doesn’t explain everything, not by a long shot. First we have to track down Brother Laurens and then determine what Nanette used as blackmail, if that’s what it is. Of one thing I’m certain: Brother Laurens too had an excellent motive to kill Nanette.”

  Grinning, Vledder shook his head.

  “All in all I keep thinking that this is a very strange case.” He chuckled and offered, “We don’t even have a corpse, but the list of suspects grows exponentially.”

  DeKok did not answer. He was not at all happy with the way Nanette’s case was unfolding. It was a bit too unorthodox, too peculiar. He was wondering how to proceed. Young Vledder was right, it was all very strange.

  A beautiful, young girl had disappeared…vanished just like that on a rainy day in July. Why had she disappeared? Who was this girl underneath it all? Carefree with a love for art and literature, if one believed Cousin Kristel. Barry Wielen, her would-be lover and a journalist, described her most enthusiastically as a “wild daisy from Ye Three Roses.” A different description was added by Cousin Frank Bogaard, who bitterly described her as a poisonous snake in the shape of an angel.

  DeKok scratched the back of his neck. Who to believe? Which version was true? It was a puzzle with pieces that didn’t fit. Amid the contradictions an unknown, talented painter had seen a completel
y different side to Nanette. He presented a portrait not of a carefree girl or a poisonous snake. She appeared as a darling young woman with a soft, sad look in her eyes.

  At once DeKok jumped off the desk.

  “Come on,” he said to Vledder, “we’re going to do the rounds with the painting.”

  “Where to?”

  Before DeKok could answer, the phone rang.

  Vledder picked it up and listened.

  He replaced the receiver after a few minutes. His face went ghostly pale.

  DeKok looked at him searchingly.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  Vledder swallowed with difficulty.

  “At the garbage dump near Canal F, they found the pieces of a young woman.”

  12

  Just outside Amsterdam, past the Western Harbor, is a series of canals. The canals form a grid. The municipal garbage dump surrounds the canals, which were expressly dug for the purpose. Most of Amsterdam’s garbage is amassed via collection trucks and barges, and all of it eventually finds its way to Canals A, B, C, and so on. These particular waterways are the only unnamed waterways in Holland. Each is designated with just a letter. In these impersonal canals the garbage is dumped, sorted, processed, and eventually converted into various kinds of fertilizer or relegated to landfills.

  It had started to rain again. The wipers of the old VW, going at top speed, barely succeeded in keeping up. The view through the windshield was vague and distorted.

  Vledder drove around the harbor until he found the entrance to the dump. From there a barely discernable road crossed the terrain. The road was only visible because it seemed to contain less garbage.Proceeding carefully across a swaying pontoon bridge, they reached the far side of Canal F. Steel plates indicated a path to a field, a wide, stinking field full of garbage.

  Off to one side was a small town, a hole-in-the-wall really. “Rustic” was the name of the town. Considering its proximity to the garbage dump, it could hardly have been named less appropriately. Behind a misty veil, DeKok and Vledder could just discern Amsterdam between rain showers. The steel plates ended between two immense mountains of garbage. It was the end of the road. Vledder stopped the car. From a distance they saw a Caterpillar dozer and a group of men.