DeKok shrugged.
“I can’t say.”
“Do you think it was a sick joke by someone who knows Archie has been missing?”
DeKok shook his head slowly.
“I’m afraid not,” he said gloomily. “I don’t think that call was a joke at all. It was some cynical individual, who chose that way to tell Nellie her son was dead.”
“Then you think the caller knew?”
“Of course,” agreed DeKok. “The only question is how he came by the information. Did he hear it from someone?”
“Or is he responsible for the death?” finished Vledder.
“That’s right. Instinct and experience lead me to this new cohort of Archie’s. Nellie believed her son was deeply influenced by this virtual stranger. I have to wonder whether he has something to do with Archie’s disappearance, possibly, his death.”
“What’s-his-name with the tattoo?”
DeKok nodded.
“There would have been no risk to him in making the call. Archie never introduced him to Fat Nellie, so she wouldn’t know his voice.” He walked on for awhile in silence. “I can’t shake the feeling there was a reason why Archie declined to take his new partner home to Mother,” he said after about a dozen steps. “He’s not just in the shadows. He’s a sinister figure in the background of all this.”
Vledder cleared his throat.
“Surely we should be able to locate a guy like this.”
“The man seems to guard his identity carefully. You can surmise as much from Nellie’s story.”
“Why would he have gotten involved with Archie, who’s not all that bright, according to Lowee?”
DeKok grimaced.
“He needed him for something, I think. Archie was available. He was extraordinarily willing. He was amenable; he’d follow orders without thinking too much.”
“For instance, he could help dispose of a body unofficially, so to speak.”
“For instance,” nodded DeKok. “The question is, if Archie is dead, why did he die? What changed?”
They continued to walk, apparently, in no particular direction. A heavily built man approached them near Short Storm Alley. The gray sleuth stopped with a smile on his face.
“Handsome Karl,” exclaimed DeKok. “I’ve missed you for some time.”
The man grinned cheerfully.
“True. I took a few months vacation, at the state’s expense. The Hague cops nabbed me after a burglary in a villa.”
“You can’t be serious,” said DeKok. “You got nabbed by out-of-town police? Where’s your civic pride?”
“Sometimes a person needs to expand his horizons. Anyway, I didn’t like their jail. They didn’t speak my language. But I’m glad we ran into each other. I just came from Warmoes Street. I asked for you, but they told me you were out.”
“What can I do for you, Karl?”
“I talked to Little Lowee. He steered me your way.”
“What for?”
“It’s about Archie, Black Archie. Lowee said Archie has gone missing and you have the case.”
DeKok nodded.
“What can you tell me about Archie?”
Karl shrugged.
“Not much, but Lowee seemed to think it’s important. A few nights ago I met Archie on Rear Fort Canal. We know each other fairly well. You see, I knew his mother a long time before. We set up housekeeping together once, before she became Fat Nellie. She was a lot of woman in her day. Anyway, you understand, Archie trusts me.”
“And?”
Handsome Karl suddenly seemed bashful. He scratched the back of his neck.
“Archie acted a bit strange. He’s not usually so nervous. He was biting his nails a lot. Suddenly he asked me if I ever had to get rid of a corpse. I said I hadn’t … that’s the truth. I’ve never been into violence of any kind. The kid came out and asked where I thought would be the best place to bury a corpse.”
DeKok looked at him intently.
“And what kind of advice did you give him?”
“I told him the Kemner Dunes.”
DeKok’s face remained expressionless.
“Why there?”
Karl looked away.
“There’s a lot of loose sand there, and I’ve heard—somewhere—it would be easy to ‘lose’ a body there.”
“And what did Archie say? Was he seeing it as a possibility?”
Karl grimaced.
“He asked me the best way to get there in a car. I told him to take the Sea Path from Bloemendaal along the beach. There are some thick bushes. It would be pretty easy to dig there without being noticed.” He hastily added, “I know, because my parents used to have a little summer cottage there.”
DeKok shook his head in disapproval.
“You never bothered to ask why he needed to get rid of a body?”
Handsome Karl looked irritated.
“Why should I? Some things you don’t want to know.”
“Why not?”
Karl sighed deeply.
“Archie was obviously in trouble,” he explained, patiently. “I didn’t mind helping him, but I wasn’t going to risk jail by becoming an accomplice. I try to be careful, you see? I was fresh out of jail, myself. If Archie got himself involved with a murder or an execution somehow, he was old enough to wipe his own backside.”
“Did he ask for your help?”
“No, he didn’t, not directly. He did say it was important not to have the body turn up. ‘It’s important they never find him,’ he said.”
“He said him and they?”
“Yes.”
“So it was the body of a man.”
Karl spread his hands, palms up.
“DeKok, please don’t involve me in any of this. Believe me, I only talked to the boy for a few minutes. I cut it off as soon as I could. I simply did not, and do not, want to know anything more.” There was a pleading look in his eyes. “You can understand that, can’t you, DeKok?”
The hard look on the inspector’s face faded away and became milder. He put a hand on Karl’s shoulder.
“Why don’t you go back to Fat Nellie one of these days? She could use a friend right now.”
The inspectors entered the station house at Warmoes Street. Meindert Post was the watch commander. Like DeKok he was born on the island of Urk. Unlike DeKok he had retained his loud fisherman’s voice. Post always sounded as if he were trying to reach the ears of someone on the bow of a ship in a gale.
“DeKok!!” he roared.
The sound reverberated against the walls.
DeKok pushed his hat farther back on his hat and ambled over to the counter. He had known Meindert Post for more then twenty-five years and he was still surprised by the volume of his voice. DeKok leaned against the counter toward the watch commander.
“Meindert,” he said sweetly, “did you call me?”
Post gesticulated, momentarily at a loss for words.
“You’re always gone,” he growled finally. “You can never be reached. I know you don’t use walkie-talkies, but you could allow Vledder to keep in touch by radio, couldn’t you?”
In his own way, Meindert was just as old-fashioned as DeKok. The police had long since abandoned walkie-talkies in favor of minuscule communication devices that looked somewhat like clip-on cell phones.
DeKok grinned pleasantly.
“Fish we catch at sea,” he said. “I can’t catch them in the office. You, of all people, should know unnecessary noise scares the fish.”
“Oh, all right, Handsome Karl was here, looking for you.”
DeKok pushed himself away from the counter.
“Old news—we ran into him.”
“And there’s a lady waiting for you, upstairs.”
DeKok had a questioning look.
“What kind of lady?”
Meindert Post raised his hand and pressed the thumb and index finger together.
“First class.”
DeKok shook his head.
“Wa
y out of my league, yours, too,” he joked. “Nevertheless, she asked for you. When I told her you were out, she insisted on waiting for you.”
With a shrug, DeKok turned to climb the stairs.
Vledder followed.
A woman was seated on the bench in the corridor, near the entrance of the detective room. DeKok figured her to be about forty years old. She wore an expensively cut, wine-red suit. A pure-white, silk scarf set off her olive skin. Large, almond eyes twinkled in an oval face. Her jet-black hair had been combed back and pulled together in a chignon, held in place by diamond-studded golden hairpins.
The old inspector beheld her with approval. Meindert Post, he thought, hit the nail on the head. He approached her and bowed with the elegance and elan of a former era.
“You are waiting for me?”
She looked up at him, but gave the impression she was looking down with a hauteur that seemed natural.
“You’re Inspector DeKok?”
“With a kay-oh-kay,” he replied automatically.
She smiled faintly.
“They told me that would be your reaction.”
“Who are they?”
She waved that away as unimportant.
“Friends,” she evaded, “some friends advised me to consult you.”
DeKok did not press her. He held open the door and accompanied her to the chair next to his desk.
“Please have a seat.”
She sat down carefully, crossed her slender legs, and pulled the skirt of her suit down over her knees.
“My name is Xaveria, Xaveria Breerode. I’ve been Paul Vreeden’s friend for a number of years. He’s why I’ve come to see you”
“Who did you say?”
She looked surprised.
“Paul Vreeden,” she repeated. “Do you know him?”
DeKok shook his head.
“No, no. I mean … I’ve never met him, I did hear his name mentioned in connection with a dredging company.”
Xaveria nodded agreement.
“Yes, that’s Paul. He’s the managing director of the firm. Paul and I have an understanding, a so-called LAT relationship. We choose to live by ourselves. We only get together on the weekends. We never meet in Bergen, where Paul owns a comfortable villa. He doesn’t want me to come there. We always get together in Amersfoort, where I own a condominium. Paul prefers to keep our relationship private. He never wants to appear with me in public. We never go out together.”
DeKok cocked his head at her.
“Why not?” he asked, surprised. “I’d be proud to be seen with you.”
Xaveria gave him a tinkling laugh.
“Paul is very well-regarded in his circle. He’s a world-renowned expert on the design, construction, and maintenance of waterways and harbors. It’s never been an issue, but his public persona is that of a confirmed bachelor.”
DeKok gave her a searching look.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Her face fell.
“I came to see you because I’m very worried. I’m afraid something has happened to him.”
“What do you think has happened?”
Xaveria raised her hands in a gesture of desperation.
“I don’t know what to think. Everything is so surreal.” She looked at DeKok and the old man read fear in her eyes. “Paul comes every Friday night about seven o’clock. Last Friday he did not show up. We had talked to each other the day before. He telephoned me. Our conversation was normal. We caught up with each other, chatted about this and that. By nine o’clock the following Friday I had not heard from him, so I phoned his house. There was no answer. I stayed home all weekend long, waiting for some news. It was no use—he never called or came.” She took a deep breath and her fingers twisted her scarf. “The weekend passed this way. On Monday morning I called his office at exactly nine o’clock. His secretary told me that Mr. Vreeden could not be reached. He was on vacation in the Bahamas.”
DeKok looked dismayed.
“But that’s possible, isn’t it?”
She shook her head.
“Paul would never do that.”
“Do what?”
“Leave without telling me.”
DeKok nodded thoughtfully.
“So, you don’t believe he went to the Bahamas?”
“No.”
“What do you believe?”
Xaveria Breerode lowered her head. Her lips trembled.
“I think he’s been kidnapped.”
8
DeKok now looked skeptical.
“Kidnapped?” he repeated. “What makes you think that?”
Xaveria looked up.
“Paul had been warned.”
DeKok made an effort to be expressionless.
“Someone warned him he would be kidnapped?” he asked, after a long pause. The disbelief in his voice was genuine.
“Yes,” said Xaveria. “About a month ago he received a phone call. It was a young man, who told him he was going to be kidnapped. He said the preparations were almost complete.”
“What did Paul say about this young man?”
She shook her head.
“Paul didn’t recognize the voice. Paul thought it was a young man’s voice. Whoever it was didn’t give a name, but he warned Paul not to tell anybody. He said, ‘They may kill me if you say anything.’”
DeKok nodded. He glanced at Vledder. The young inspector was quietly typing on his computer keyboard. DeKok didn’t doubt Vledder was recording the conversation verbatim. Vledder had a new, auxiliary keyboard. It allowed him to enter stenographers’ codes into his computer.
DeKok did not think the codes could be automatically transcribed, but nothing would surprise him in this day and age.
“Did Mr. Vreeden take the warning as serious?” he resumed his questioning.
“Absolutely.”
“Did he warn the police or take any preventive measures, step up security?”
“No,” she sighed. “That’s not Paul’s way. I’m sorry to have to tell you this. He hasn’t much faith in the police. Even so he won’t hire a bodyguard. Aside from his obvious energies and talents, he’s a conservative, uncomplicated man. Maybe that’s what I love about him. He insists on an outdated ritual when he goes abroad on business. He is known to travel with large amounts of cash in a money vest. When he gets where he’s going to negotiate a contract, he distributes 1,000 Euro bills like it is Christmas. Call him crazy, but he always comes back with multi-million dollar contracts.
DeKok smiled.
“Is he wealthy?”
Xaveria pursed her lips in thought before she answered.
“Paul is financially well off,” she said in the hesitant manner of the very rich. “He has a very comfortable net worth, but almost all his wealth is in the company.”
DeKok looked thoughtfully in the distance.
“Should we assume for the moment that Mr. Vreeden has indeed been kidnapped, who would his abductors most likely contact for ransom?”
The company would get the call. The people who would be able to make a decision to pay ransom are the co-directors, Messrs. Grauw and Middelkoop.”
“Do you know the two gentlemen?”
She shook her head.
“I’ve never met them.”
“Do they know about your … eh, your relationship with Mr. Vreeden?”
“I doubt it. As we discussed, Paul didn’t want our relationship known. He would not have discussed it in the office.”
“Would they pay a considerable amount of ransom?”
Xaveria seemed genuinely surprised.
“Why do you ask?”
DeKok looked dubious.
“The motive for paying a ransom, regardless of the amount, is emotional attachment. Close, loving ties are the reason kidnappers contact the victim’s family. In a business setting, personal attachments are rare.”
Xaveria Breerode looked at him as if he were a being from another world. Then her dark eyes sparked malevolently.
“Emotional attachment, Mr. DeKok, has no bearing here. Mr. Vreeden is worth his weight in gold to the company.”
After Xaveria had left, Vledder slapped his forehead.
“This is getting crazier by the minute,” he exclaimed. He looked at DeKok. “Aren’t you ready to abandon ship?”
“What?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t get sucked in any farther!”
“Why?”
The young inspector grimaced.
“I can’t remember a crazier case during all the time we’ve worked together. It just keeps getting crazier.”
“You said that,” interrupted DeKok.
“And I’ll probably say it again. What about Handsome Karl’s story? Here we go again—what can we do? Start digging in the dunes with a bulldozer?”
DeKok laughed.
“I don’t think the authorities will allow it. The dunes are protected, you know. They are our only protection from the sea in places where there are no dikes. Where would you start? Besides how would you justify the sacrilege? Tell them that we think we’re looking for the corpse of someone who’s on vacation in the Bahamas? We haven’t even tied Archie’s corpse to the missing Mr. Vreeden.”
Vledder was a little insulted.
“I know all that about the dunes. I just brought it up as an illustration of insurmountable problems with this case,” he said. He glanced at his computer screen, as if for inspiration. Then he added, “Are you now saying Archie’s corpse and Vreeden are not one and the same?”
DeKok shook his head, becoming more serious.
“We can’t ignore the possibility. But it’s too soon for it to be our sole theory, and we haven’t anything concrete. Of course I’m deeply concerned about the disappearance and the possible death of Archie. Unfortunately Archie’s fate is just as obscure as Vreeden’s.”
Vledder looked at his screen again, pensively.
“By the way,” he said after a long pause, “I didn’t want to interrupt while you were talking with Xaveria, but what is a LAT relationship?”
DeKok scratched the back of his neck.
“It’s just another example of how English is creeping into our language. It stands for Living Alone Together.”
“Sounds like an oxymoron.”
“What?” asked DeKok. He was thinking of something else.
DeKok and Variations on Murder Page 6