“Dredging?”
Her eyes lit up.
“Holland is home to the world’s foremost experts in dredging, water works, harbor building, dams, dikes, all of the above.”
DeKok nodded vaguely. He searched his memory for any knowledge of dredging projects. Other than that massive, costly Delta Works storm-surge barrier project along Holland’s southern coast and a small, asthmatic dredger in the Amsterdam canals, he couldn’t think of any.
“So you believe something terrible has happened to the esteemed Mr. Vreeden?”
“Yes, I am convinced.”
DeKok smiled.
“Why?”
“He’s gone.”
“Where did he go?”
Marlies van Haesbergen sighed.
“Nowhere … he’s dead.”
DeKok felt he had to be careful. He must not show any signs of impatience.
“How do you know he’s passed away?”
“He was dead in his chair.”
“Where?”
She waved an arm in the direction of the windows.
“I found him in the company boardroom. It’s also his office.”
“When did you find him?”
“Four days ago.”
DeKok and Vledder exchanged looks of amazement.
“Four days ago?” he exclaimed.
The old woman closed both eyes.
“I warned you about my vagueness—time doesn’t have the meaning it once did.” It sounded like an apology. “In any event I know how many sleepless nights I’ve passed.”
DeKok relaxed.
“How did you happen to be in Mr. Vreeden’s boardroom?”
She nodded decisively, as if DeKok had finally come to the crux of it all.
“I live there. That is, in the building. The address is Emperors Canal 1217. My husband was the building custodian and concierge for nearly thirty years. We lived in an apartment on the top floor. When my husband died, Mr. Vreeden, himself, told me I could keep on living on the top floor.”
She smiled, lost in memories. Then she continued.
“There’s no custodian in the building anymore, nor is there a concierge. Mr. Vreeden modernized. An outside cleaning crew comes periodically, and there is a receptionist in the lobby. I still walk through the rooms in the building, before I go to bed. It is an old habit—helps me to feel everything is all right.”
DeKok nodded his understanding.
“And during one of these nightly inspection tours, you found Mr. Vreeden?”
“Yes.”
“Dead in his chair.”
She hesitated for a moment.
“That’s what I thought, yes.”
DeKok rubbed his eyes.
“I have to tell you,” he said in a tired voice, “ I don’t understand your hesitation.”
Marlies van Haesbergen nodded encouragement.
“I understand perfectly. This is certainly my dilemma, as well. It is also why I’ve waited so long to tell you my story.” She remained silent, as if gathering her thoughts. “Four days ago, during my inspection tour, as you call it,
I encountered Mr. Vreeden in his chair in the boardroom. It was startling, since he was never there that late. I managed to say something by way of greeting, but he did not answer. I took a few steps in his direction. He was leaning back, his eyes closed. In that moment there was no doubt he was dead.”
“And then?”
“As soon as I could react I knew I must do something, phone someone.”
“And did you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She swallowed hard.
Once I picked up the phone in the boardroom, I realized it is connected to the switchboard. With no one there, I had to use the private line in my apartment.”
“So you left the boardroom?”
She nodded, now looking fragile and weary.
“I took the elevator to go upstairs. But it’s old and very slow. Meanwhile I wondered whom to call. Should I call a doctor, the police? Suddenly I realized, without examining him closely, I could not be sure he was dead. I hadn’t even touched him to see whether he was cold.”
“So you went back?”
Marlies wiped her forehead, her hand shaking.
“Yes, indeed, I returned. When I got off the elevator, I thought I heard something. Anxiously I went to the door of the boardroom. I was surprised to see the light was off because I recalled leaving the lights on.” She pressed both hands to her eyes. “When I turned on the light, the chair was empty.”
2
It took a while until Marlies van Haesbergen regained her composure. Her face was full of emotion. What little bravura she had shown in the beginning was gone. She now revealed herself as she probably was … a dear, quiet, somewhat confused, old soul.
DeKok placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She was still shaking.
“The chair was empty?”
She released a deep sigh.
“Yes. He had utterly vanished. I couldn’t believe my eyes—he had to be there. It occurred to me he might have slid off the chair, onto the floor. I went on my knees to look under the table. But nothing. Mr. Vreeden must have disappeared in the short time I rode the elevator up and down.”
“How long would that have been?”
“It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.”
For a long time DeKok stared at the wall, a pensive look on his face.
“Did it appear anything had been moved—the chair, it was in the same position as … eh, before you left the room to go upstairs?”
She nodded several times.
“Everything looked exactly the same to me. Just Mr. Vreeden was no longer in the chair.”
DeKok scratched the back of his neck.
“You said you thought you heard something as you stepped out of the elevator?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly did you hear? What sort of sound?”
“It was a clicking sound.”
“Like a lock?”
“Possibly. It was not very clear. Also my hearing isn’t what it used to be.”
DeKok ignored the remark.
“The front door was closed?”
Again she nodded vigorously. She seemed to have recovered. There was a fighting spirit in her eyes.
“I checked,” she said firmly. “The front door was locked. Just like always. I also walked through the offices again and even looked into the restrooms. Nothing.”
DeKok rubbed his chin.
“To whom have you told this story?”
She gave him a scornful look.
“I’ve spoken to no one, of course.”
“Why not?”
Her eyes filled with disapproval at his lack of comprehension. She spread wide her hands.
“I may be old, but I’m not crazy. What in the world would I say?”
“You could tell them what you told me.”
“Who would listen?”
“I am sure someone in the office would be worried about Mr. Vreeden’s whereabouts.”
Marlies van Haesbergen shook her head, disapproval on her face.
“The next morning,” she said patiently, “I went to see Mr. Vreeden’s secretary. She seems a nice young woman, very attentive to his needs. She is very territorial about Mr. Vreeden, very protective. I asked to speak to Mr. Vreeden regarding my apartment. As excuses go it was a bit lame. She may have seen through me.”
“And?”
“She said it would be out of the question for him to speak with me, for the next few days at least.”
“What reason did she give?”
“Mr. Vreeden was out of the country on business.”
DeKok narrowed his eyes.
“What else did she say?”
“She said, as soon as he came back, she would schedule a few minutes for me.”
“What did you say?”
A sad smile played around her mouth.
“I agreed to wait until he came back.
I said it wasn’t all that urgent.”
DeKok grinned.
“You should have told her Mr. Vreeden was dead, you had seen it yourself, and he wasn’t ever going to come back.”
Marlies pulled herself up straight and pressed her lips together in a disapproving frown. Her eyes spat fire.
“I do not know, Inspector, how you handle your own business,” she said chiding him, “but life has taught me discretion. I’m an old woman. Worse still I am nobody, the widow of a concierge. Nobody every asked me to do my little inspection tours at night. They would see an old biddy who cannot keep her nose in her own business. In fact they would be within their rights to consider me a trespasser.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Next you’ll tell me you want me to report finding a corpse in the boardroom during one of these unauthorized tours. Oh, and tell them the corpse disappeared?” Her tone dripped with sarcasm and scorn. “Actually,” she added, less vehemently, “there were moments I doubted the truth of what I’d seen with my own eyes. Was I confusing reality with a dream, an illusion?”
DeKok looked at her in a friendly way. He liked the way the old lady stood up for herself.
“In the end what led you to conclude,” he asked gently, “something terrible did happen to Mr. Vreeden?”
She shook her head.
“It wasn’t a conclusion based on fact. Except for my own observations in the boardroom, all I have is an uneasy feeling I’ve had since the incident. You could call it intuition.”
“One more question. You have remained silent for four days. Why do you speak out now?”
“This afternoon, around the end of the business day, I returned to the office. I talked again to his secretary, asking her politely whether Mr. Vreeden had returned yet. She reacted out of character, distracted and annoyed. She said that there was no chance of seeing Mr. Vreeden for the foreseeable future.”
“How did she explain that?”
“This time she said Mr. Vreeden was on holiday.”
“What?”
Mrs. van Haesbergen nodded slowly.
“According to her he’s now in the Bahamas.”
Once the elderly lady left, the two partners fell silent. The strange story had made a deep impression upon DeKok.
He wondered whether he and Vledder could discover anything to explain the mysterious disappearance of Mr. Vreeden. This was, to put it mildly, a perplexing matter.
Vledder dragged a chair over to DeKok’s desk. He sat on it backward, his arms across the back rest.
“Well, are you planning to pursue this?”
DeKok shrugged reluctantly.
“Marlies van Haesbergen is not the only one with a dilemma.”
“How’s that?”
DeKok rubbed the bridge of his nose with his little finger.
“Say we don’t accept her story, we don’t open an investigation. If Mr. Vreeden turns up dead, we are at fault for not doing so. If we pursue her supposition as a death and it turns out Mr. Vreeden is alive and well, we’ll be the bumbling idiots who didn’t know the difference between police business and a tale told by a senile, old woman.”
Vledder nodded pensively.
“It sounds as though we take our chances, either way. Especially since this Mr. Vreeden seems to be a high-profile individual.”
DeKok raised an admonishing finger in the air.
“Equally important, although the old lady’s story is very intriguing, technically there’s no evidence any law has been broken. A clear violation of the law is the standard for our interference.”
Vledder looked surprised.
“Is one allowed to make someone disappear?”
DeKok shook his head.
“No, but the problem is one of semantics. The word disappear does not appear in any of our law books. An unlawful act has to be defined there, as well as how it was executed and for what purpose.” He paused and rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “That’s the theory,” he added as an after thought.
“What theory?”
“The theory in the law books concerning whether a crime has been committed,” said DeKok curtly. “But the real problem here is one of credibility,” he continued. “We have no evidence. On the one hand we have an elderly eccentric. On the other hand we have a conscientious secretary. One says Mr. Vreeden is dead. The other claims he’s on vacation. I think we can accept the old lady’s assertion regarding the secretary’s behavior. Aside from the apparent contrast in the two women and their stories, was there a crime? If we focus on the disappearance, we’re talking about the disappearance of a corpse.”
“And that alone,” grinned Vledder, “is sinister.”
DeKok nodded slowly.
“It is,” he agreed. “One question raises its ugly head: Why would anyone want to make the man’s corpse disappear?”
Vledder gestured impatiently.
“They’d do it to cover up a crime, of course. What else?”
DeKok stared at his colleague.
“What crime? Even if Marlies van Haesbergen actually saw Mr. Vreeden dead in his office chair, his eyes were closed. He was quiet, apparently at peace. What she did not see is as important as what she did see. I mean, she said nothing to indicate Vreeden was the victim of violence. She saw no traumatic wounds, no weapons. What’s more, the boardroom was undisturbed … both times she entered.”
Vledder made another impatient gesture.
“Maybe she didn’t look closely enough.”
DeKok gave forth a short, scornful laugh.
“That is exactly my point. Did Marlies get a good look?” It sounded testy.
Vledder had no answer to that.
DeKok stood and started to pace up and down the detective room. It happened there were no other personnel present, so he could really stretch his legs. It helped him to order his thoughts. Perhaps, he thought, there’s no crime at all. Perhaps Mr. Vreeden had just been taking a short nap after a long, tiring day. The executive chair in the boardroom was probably very comfortable. Maybe he simply woke up after Marlies left. He could certainly have walked out of the building before she returned.
He grinned inwardly and chided himself silently. In his heart he knew nothing was ever that simple. He knew he was suppressing a feeling of foreboding. He began to see the arrival of the old lady at Warmoes Street as a harbinger. Would the mysterious events she related pull him into a tangle of nefarious activities? He felt he would need all his experience, perseverance, and intelligence in the days to come.
He looked at the wall clock in the detective room. It was almost ten o’clock. He took a few more turns up and down the room. Then he stopped next to Vledder.
“Where is that address that Marlies gave you?”
Vledder moved to his computer and touched a few keys. Then he took out his notebook and compared an entry in it with the screen.
“Eternal Lane,” he said. “It is Eternal Lane, Number 752, Bergen.”
The grey sleuth remained a moment longer in thought. Then he strode to the peg on the wall. He struggled into his raincoat and pushed his hat back on his head.
Vledder shut down his computer and joined DeKok.
“Where are we going?”
DeKok glanced over his shoulder.
“We’re going to see who is at home in Bergen.”
Vledder had a look of consternation on his face.
“What if we do find Vreeden at home?”
DeKok grinned broadly.
“Then I’ll shake the hand of a man who has risen, like Lazarus, from the dead.”
Vledder stared.
“Is that a joke?”
“No, I’m deadly serious.”
“You mean—”
DeKok interrupted.
“I’m convinced our Mr. Vreeden is no longer among the living.”
3
Vledder maneuvered the old police car, a VW Beetle, skillfully through heavy traffic in the inner city.
It started to rain. Holland has one of the highest rainfa
ll averages in the world. Combined with Holland’s elevation, mostly below sea level, heavy rainfall creates some interesting, temporary traffic conditions. Hollanders routinely defy the odds their country will end up underwater. Vigilance and superb engineering have reduced the odds of a catastrophic flood in the Netherlands to a one in 10,000 year event.
The car progressed to the outskirts of the city. DeKok found himself transfixed by the reflections of neon signs on the slick pavement. They were almost as brilliant as a low-lying sun. With effort he tore his eyes away from the road and the lull of the window wipers. As he refocused his eyes, the car passed an experimental development. Houses, buildings, and streets floated on caissons in a large lake. The structures were securely anchored to strong, vertical, concrete-and-steel poles. If the water rose, the entire development would rise with it, remaining in place relative to its surroundings. It was a model of Dutch innovation, one answer to catastrophic flooding.
DeKok was not sure he approved. He trusted the ancient system of dikes. They dated back to the sixteenth century. Windmills supported the system, continuously pumping water out of the low lands into the sea. Now there was continual talk of global warming. If the polar icecaps were to melt, tiny Holland would disappear completely under the water. DeKok, as all of his countrymen, knew the sea had a head start.
His thoughts turned away from thoughts of cataclysmic flooding. For generations the Dutch had lived their lives, in spite of the omnipresent threat.
With a sigh he sank lower in the seat, a stubborn expression on his face.
Vledder glanced at him.
“I’m still trying to figure out your motives,” he said at last. “You want to go to Bergen to see if Vreeden is at home. In almost the same breath you tell me that you think he’s dead.”
DeKok opened his eyes. He had started to doze.
“An opinion,” he said slowly, “is not the same as knowledge. I can’t act on intuition. At best it spurs me on to find out more. But if I’m to get involved and call this a case, I’ll have to prove Vreeden is no longer alive.”
“How?”
DeKok grinned sadly.
“For one thing, I need his corpse.”
“And you expect to find it in his villa in Bergen?”
DeKok pursed his lips.
DeKok and Variations on Murder Page 2