‘I wanted to give you all a chance to voice what part you want to play in the investigation. It was yours to begin with and I wouldn’t want you to feel sidelined now that we’ve got more resources coming in.’ He looked at me specifically, as if he particularly wanted me to speak up.
I listened to the CI tell us his tactics and I thought he was all wrong. Ten years ago I would have said something, but you get to the point in your career when you know that nobody wants to hear it. However outspoken they say they want you to be, those in power prefer people to agree with them; people such as Ingrid, who was nodding enthusiastically at every word the CI said.
What was the best way of solving a crime? That was really what this meeting was about. Was it to throw a lot of resources at the problem and then plough your way through the input you got? That was never the way I did it. I knew the boss would probably listen to me, would accept what I said, but wouldn’t act on my suggestions. And was there anything more annoying than someone who knew you were right but who would do something else anyway? For political reasons mostly. How stupid would he look if he didn’t use all the resources at his disposal to find the body of the most wanted criminal of the past ten years or so. Sometimes you had to be seen to do the right thing, I fully understood that. That was another reason why I kept quiet.
The CI’s suggestion was that they were going to pull all other teams from whatever they were working on to help us find Dollander’s body and his killer. I drew some circles on my notepad as they discussed how best to use those groups. From circles I moved on to curly lines.
‘Lotte,’ the boss said, ‘maybe it’s best if you work on some of the drug smuggling.’
Here it was. This was the moment to say that of course I was going to do whatever he wanted me to. After all, he’d made it sound like a suggestion rather than an order. But there were too many interesting loose ends dangling in front of me. ‘No,’ I said.
Thomas laughed in astonishment but managed to turn it into a cough.
‘No?’ the boss said, his eyebrows raised in a genuine query. Surely he must be used to people disagreeing with him? Maybe normally people didn’t voice it quite this openly.
‘I still think we need to look at Frank Stapel’s death. There are many questions surrounding that and I would like to follow up on them.’
‘Right.’
More explanation was needed, I could see that in the boss’s face. ‘It’s like knitting,’ I said. ‘You have a loose thread somewhere and you keep pulling at it and it unravels until you can see what’s behind it.’ I looked over at Ingrid next to me. I expected her to agree and nod, but instead she was frowning.
‘If you’re sure,’ the boss said. ‘There are a lot of angles to explore. There’s Dollander’s work as a property developer, which we think he used purely as a front to cover his drug dealing and people trafficking. You don’t want to trace that?’
‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘I’ll stick with Frank Stapel. Find out how his leather jacket got back to Tessa.’
‘Okay, you and one other person can do that. You’ll need someone.’
I looked at Ingrid, but she kept quiet.
As soon as the boss had left, I dashed to use the bathroom. When I came out of the cubicle, I saw Ingrid waiting for me at the washbasins.
‘Knitting?’ She spat the word out. ‘You had to use knitting?’
I turned on the tap. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘This is the biggest case in years. Dollander. And you keep going on about Frank Stapel and his leather jacket. You think so small.’
The soap dispenser failed to dispense any foam, no matter how often I pressed the button. ‘That’s what’s going to get this case solved.’
‘And knitting? God, you couldn’t have picked a more stereotypically female word. Could you not at least have said that you were going to take a wall down with a sledgehammer? Knitting and sticking with the small stuff. The domestic stuff. You know they’ll bundle me in with you.’
I looked at her via the mirror. Her inverted face was oddly lopsided, but what was obvious was that she was angry. ‘What’s the problem?’ I rinsed my hands under the cold tap.
‘Because of what you said, they’ll make me work with you. Give the big stuff, the drugs, the trafficking, to the men. Leave you and me with the part that will unravel your knitting.’ Her voice lingered on the last words with heavy sarcasm.
‘You don’t have to work with me.’ I turned off the tap and shook water from my hands.
‘You know that’s what will happen. And the boss kept saying you could do another part. But you had to turn it down. Didn’t you see what he was offering you? You could have led this investigation. Now it will be Thomas, because you want to focus on a leather jacket.’ Anger radiated from her.
‘He wouldn’t have given the lead to me.’
‘Don’t be stupid. You’re his favourite.’
I laughed, even though I knew I shouldn’t. I grabbed a paper towel. I suspected that deeply hidden under CI Moerdijk’s aesthete’s exterior, there might once even have been something like friendship towards me. But after the last case, I was sure that whatever there had been was eroded away. Still, he didn’t dislike me. A cynic might say that was because I had made him look good two cases in a row.
I judged how people perceived me by the way they acted towards me. The boss had ignored Francine’s complaints without even checking why I had been out of the office. The implied statement was that if I hadn’t been doing my job, hadn’t been at work, he trusted that I had a good reason for it and didn’t need to check. So yes, he had my best interests at heart, for as long as they didn’t clash with his own.
Ingrid’s anger only seemed to increase at the thought that I might be laughing at her.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘but I’m far from the boss’s favourite.’
‘You’ve been a role model for so many of us. It makes me fume to see you throw your chances away.’
‘I’ve always been good with the details,’ I said.
‘You care about this girl Tessa and it makes you blinkered to what’s really going on. Why didn’t you grab it? The big stuff?’
‘Because that’s not going to solve this case.’ I had once been young and ambitious like Ingrid, and what had happened to that? I wasn’t interested in my career as such. I wanted to get answers and that was enough. No need for promotions, and if that was what Ingrid was after, she was welcome to it.
Ingrid sighed, pushed open the door to the hallway and left.
I wanted to find where Frank Stapel had got the bones from. That would lead us to where the rest of Dollander’s remains were still buried, and then probably to his killer. I would work it from that angle, and at the same time, Thomas could look into Dollander’s past and come up with reasons and motives. I understood what Ingrid was saying, I hadn’t chosen the most high-profile part of the investigation, but it was what was going to get this case solved, I was sure of that. I couldn’t be a role model for every female officer in the force. I couldn’t make decisions based on what would be best for the image of women. I had to do what was best for the investigation, and I knew that if I didn’t, then nobody else would. It was too important to let drop.
I went back to the office, but Ingrid wasn’t there. ‘Can I ask you something?’ I said to Thomas.
‘Sure.’ He looked at his watch as if he had to make sure I wasn’t going over the ten seconds that he had decided to assign as my allotted time.
‘You remember when we first saw Tessa Stapel?’ I said. ‘We went to her flat.’
‘Sure.’
‘That leather jacket. Was it at her place? Do you remember seeing it?’
‘You really are obsessed with this jacket,’ he said, but he hesitated. His eyes focused on the ceiling, whether to try to call up the image or to avoid looking at me, I wasn’t sure. ‘I don’t think I saw it. At least it wasn’t hanging over one of the chairs.’
I nodded. ‘I agree. It wasn’
t there, was it? That means someone brought it round later that evening or the next day.’ I handed him the tape from the security camera at the station. ‘Frank was wearing that jacket when he put the skeleton in the locker. Someone was on that roof terrace with him.’
‘Yes, you said.’
‘I just can’t imagine it was Tessa.’
‘Are you okay with . . .’ He paused. ‘I don’t know. With that part of the investigation?’
‘Yes, that’s what I want to cover. The rest,’ I shrugged, ‘I trust you. I know you’ll do a good job.’
‘Thanks, Lotte.’ A surprised smile shot across his face. ‘You know, I never told anybody about what I heard on those tapes. You know the ones I mean.’ He looked down the corridor to make sure nobody could overhear him. ‘The ones of you and that murderer.’
‘I know.’ I grimaced, because I didn’t like being reminded of that. ‘I also know that nobody else would have discovered what you did.’
He stared at me and was about to say something when his mobile rang. He swore, then picked it up.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Francine called Thomas as she crossed the road to the police station.
‘Hi, Francine.’
She could hear she’d caught him in the middle of something. ‘I’d like to talk about my grandfather’s case.’
‘Sorry, Francine, now’s really not convenient.’
She grimaced at his tone. Yesterday she would not have doubted that he’d want to see her. Of course he had bigger fish to fry now. When he and Lotte Meerman had first talked to her, three days ago, she had been priority number one. Now she wasn’t any more, and she knew why. Michael Kraan had been only too happy to fill her in. How he had another high-profile case now. She knew he hadn’t been interested in her grandfather before, even though of course he had made all the right noises. And then everything had changed this morning, when he cornered her in the office and asked if her brother had ever been involved in organized crime, because otherwise it was a very strange coincidence . . . He’d looked at her in a meaningful way and she had only just managed to bluff that yes, it was a strange coincidence, wasn’t it? But no, no organized crime in Sam’s past.
Michael Kraan needed to learn to keep his mouth shut. She hadn’t had to push him hard before he told her about Dollander’s bones found next to her grandfather’s. His bones mixed up with her grandfather’s in a bin bag. He wouldn’t say any more, so she still didn’t know which bones or how many. She’d heard in his voice how for him the case had suddenly become important. Just like for Thomas, she didn’t matter at all any more.
‘You need to talk to Lotte,’ Thomas said. ‘She’s dealing with that.’
‘I don’t want to talk to Lotte. I want to talk to you.’
‘She knows you’ve complained about her, of course, but I’m pretty sure she’s not holding it against you.’ There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
‘Is she there?’ She said it through clenched teeth. So that was what it was like. Now that she’d complained, he was choosing sides with his colleague and against her.
‘She is. Hold on a second.’ There was noise in the background, muffled by his hand on the mouthpiece. ‘Can you be here in about half an hour?’
‘I’m downstairs now.’
A sigh. ‘I’ll let her know.’
‘Now, Thomas.’ When Lotte showed up would be a sign of how important Francine still was to this investigation.
Lotte came down in five minutes. Was that the same suit she’d worn a few days ago? A non-descript navy-blue trouser suit over a cream V-neck top. Francine would have worn some jewellery with it, a necklace and definitely earrings. Lotte chose not to. There weren’t any rings on her fingers either.
‘Thanks for coming in, Francine,’ Lotte said. ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you.’
As if she’d set up the interview. Francine followed her to a room marked Interview Room 3. A different room from last time. A camera hung in the corner and a microphone rested in the middle of the table. Lotte didn’t switch any of them on, and Francine didn’t feel the need to have their conversation recorded either.
‘Have you made any progress?’ She put an emphasis on the word ‘any’.
‘A lot has happened since we last talked,’ Lotte said.
‘I sincerely hope so.’
‘But it’s thrown up more questions than answers, I’m afraid.’
‘Why am I not surprised?’
‘I can’t tell you much because—’
‘I know about Dollander.’
Lotte blinked a few times. ‘You do?’
Francine kept a straight face at having landed such an excellent blow. ‘Word is getting round.’
‘Who told you?’
Francine smiled. ‘What does it matter?’
‘So that’s why you’re here?’
‘Yes, what the hell’s going on?’ Her smile suddenly felt fake to her. This had been her big moment. She had loved all the attention her grandfather had been getting her, and now that was being taken away. As if anybody would care about a Second World War hero now that the carcass of a major criminal had been found as well. Thomas’s attitude had told her that loud and clear.
‘I have a couple of questions for you.’ The fact that Lotte’s voice stayed calm was only more annoying.
‘About Dollander, I guess. No, I don’t think my brother was involved with him in any way.’
‘No, not about Dollander, even though that’s an interesting angle. Thomas and Ingrid are looking into ways Dollander might be linked to either of our property developers. They’ve got that covered. Or at least they were going to until everything changed this morning. We still don’t know where your grandfather’s remains came from. That’s going to be key in solving this.’
‘Solving what exactly?’ Only a few days ago Lotte had told her that they wouldn’t be able to find out how her grandfather had been killed. ‘The only reason you’re interested is because you hope my grandfather will lead you to Dollander’s killer.’
‘Whoever killed Dollander is clearly a dangerous individual, and of course we’re anxious to know who that is. However, I’m really interested in what happened with your grandfather. When we first spoke, you were in a rush to go. I’ve had to read his story in the newspaper.’ Lotte smiled to take the sting out of her words.
Francine leant back on her chair. ‘Yes, I had to go to the airport. I’m sorry I complained about you.’ Even though it was hard to believe, it seemed that Lotte was going to be her only ally. The worst ally she could possibly have, of course, and definitely not who she would have chosen, but the only one who was still interested in what had happened in her grandfather’s past.
‘And I’m sorry I walked out of our conversation the other day. I had to look after my mother. She had an accident.’
‘Is she okay?’ For the first time since Michael Kraan had told her about Dollander, Francine felt the muscles in her shoulders relax. Was there something about other people’s misfortune that made hers look less important? Maybe it was the fact that Lotte was sharing something about her personal difficulties that made the situation easier.
‘She’s fine. Only broke her wrist. It could have been worse at that age. If it had been her hip, we would have been in real trouble.’
‘At least my father is being looked after.’ Francine tapped on the table. ‘Touch wood, he’s still healthy physically, even though he is getting more forgetful every day.’
‘What has he said about his father’s remains being found? It must have been a big shock to him.’
‘Yes, it has. And especially that they were stuffed in a bin bag.’
‘I understand. Of course I do. Has he read the article in the paper? Your big interview?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him since it came out.’
‘Did you talk to him beforehand?’
‘No, not really.’ Her husband had set up the interview and she had just gone along wi
th it. ‘Why do you ask? There’s another one tomorrow.’
‘Maybe you wanted to check your facts with him before giving that interview?’
‘No,’ Francine laughed, ‘that really wasn’t necessary. He’s told me the story so often, I know it by heart.’
‘He didn’t try to stop you?’
‘Giving the interview?’At Lotte’s nod, she continued. ‘No, why should he?’
‘In case he wanted to change part of the story?’
‘What are you implying?’ Francine frowned. This interview room should have warned her that this wasn’t a friendly chat, however much Lotte was talking about her mother and however much she was smiling. She leant forward and rested her elbows on the table. ‘Why are you saying that?’
‘Someone asked me when I was going to check your story. Your father’s story. They indicated that . . . that maybe there was something else going on.’
‘Are you calling me a liar?’
‘Not at all. It could just be that your father . . . embellished his story.’
‘My grandfather was shot, my grandmother died in a concentration camp.’ Francine could feel her pulse racing. ‘What more do you want? What other proof?’ She hissed the words across the table. Amazing how it was actually worse to have her grandfather doubted. Questions about Sam were almost par for the course. This was new. This was raw.
Still Lotte sat there with that infuriating calmness. Francine felt as if she were pushing her words against a foam wall. She had never felt like hitting someone more. And suddenly it popped into the back of her mind that it was clearly all a facade. This woman had broken a suspect’s cheekbone. The calmness was a front. Break it and she would see Lotte’s mistakes. How dare she doubt her grandfather? How dare she ask those questions?
A Cold Case in Amsterdam Central Page 17