There was something very cool and aloof in the way she looked him up and down. “We do what we can to help each other, Luc. There were no problems,” was all she said when he thanked her for taking his classes.
He had no idea why she was being so curt, but Luc didn’t have the energy to focus on it. He was just in time for his own lecture.
It went surprisingly well. A few times he spontaneously digressed from his notes to provide background. The students were attentive, asked questions. Not everyone, of course, but quite a few. Especially the pale one, Nele Sluyck, was a livewire.
The day that had begun on such a false note was getting better, especially when Lieve sent word shortly after his lecture that Ammie had had a good night and felt better, though she was very tired and her speech was still slightly slurred.
Her tears when she had found out that Caz was in the country had caught him unawares. Did Ammie regret her decision all those years ago? Now that she was staring death in the face? What he would do if Ammie wanted to meet Caz, he didn’t know.
Just as he didn’t know whether Caz was an accomplice in her sister’s murder.
But for now he had to focus on the departmental meeting that lay ahead.
Caz
Ghent
Grevers arrived at a quarter to three to pick her up, as arranged.
“Wasn’t Babette supposed to come as well?” she asked as they drove past the shop.
Grevers nodded. “Agent Verhoef is fetching her.”
Caz assumed they were deliberately keeping them apart before the line-up.
Maybe she should go over to Babette’s shop sometime and hear exactly what she had told De Brabander about her and Fien and Tieneke.
“Commissioner De Brabander wants to see you before the line-up,” Grevers said when they stopped at the police station.
Caz gave an inward sigh, but nodded. She felt she knew the inside of the interview room like the back of her hand by now.
De Brabander came in just as she was sitting down.
“Good afternoon.” He sat down to face her. “We found a monitoring device in the Colijns’ home telephone.”
Caz felt like giving him a smacker on the lips. Or maybe just a smack.
He looked at his watch. “We don’t have much time, and I don’t think there’s necessarily a link, but could you tell me briefly about the burglary at your home in South Africa?”
Caz kept it as short as possible.
“What was stolen?”
“TV, music centre, computer and a few other electrical and electronic items. There was quite a bit of vandalism.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I take it the laptop in your backpack is new?”
Caz nodded. “I’m a translator. I can’t be without a computer. Speaking of which, when can I have my stuff back?”
“I’ll see if I can return everything after the line-up. I’d also like to know what’s missing from your backpack. But back to your computer. Are you the only user?”
“Yes.”
“You gave no one access to your previous laptop?”
“Definitely not.”
“I understand from the IT guy that there’s a document on your computer with a list of all your passwords. An unprotected document.”
Caz felt her cheeks flush. Everyone warned against it but she had never thought anyone would have reason to hack her computer. “I’m afraid that’s so.”
“The list was on your old computer as well?”
She nodded.
“So anyone who could work out the password of your previous laptop would have access to any of the internet accounts and websites where you are registered?”
Caz shifted slightly in her seat. “It was an oldish computer. Windows 7. It wasn’t secured with a password. It was too much bother for me to have to log on every time I used it.”
De Brabander didn’t seem surprised. “According to the IT guy, anyone who knew your password could read your email on your service provider’s page. And you generously provided the password to anyone who bothered to look.”
“Someone reading my mail is the least of my problems. I don’t have secrets, but a second user? When a computer is stolen in South Africa and by tikkoppe besides, as the police seem to think, it is reformatted and sold as soon as possible. Thieves don’t keep it to intercept someone’s email.”
“Tikkoppe?”
“Metamphetamine users. In South Africa, mostly young people. It’s a serious problem, especially in the Western Cape.”
“I see. Anything else that was out of the ordinary?”
Caz was about to say no, when she remembered the inactive alarm. She explained briefly.
“If you did activate the alarm, it must have been someone who knew how to deactivate an alarm system,” De Brabander came to the logical conclusion.
She nodded, but her thoughts were elsewhere. What if someone was using her computer? Surely he would have been more interested in emptying her bank accounts than reading her emails? Why hadn’t he done so yet? He’d had about three weeks.
Fortunately her nest egg couldn’t be touched, unless she went to the bank in person and filled out forms. Even though her cards were in the red at present, she was creditworthy. She would have to change all her bloody passwords as soon as possible. Her email addresses as well. What a mess.
“The IT guy came up with a theory. If the burglary in South Africa is linked to the events over here, a third person in possession of your computer might be involved. Presumably someone in South Africa. This person would have been able to follow most of your movements, thanks to your emails to your daughter and others, like your landlady in Leuven.”
Slowly the implication got through to her. “If Matari and the street musician are one and the same person and he’s in contact with the third person, he could have found out I would be in Leuven that day and where I was staying. That’s why he was at the bus stop near the B&B.” But why had he been following her?
“It’s possible.” He looked at the clock on the wall and got up. “Let’s see whether you can identify Matari. Wait here a moment. I’ll go and find out whether Professor DeReu is done.”
Caz didn’t reply. She tried to think of all the emails she had sent and received since the burglary. There must have been hundreds. She subscribed to a number of blogs for translators and language practitioners, as well as Network24, which kept her up to date with current affairs on a daily basis. Dealings with the bank and the usual spam. Correspondence with Annika and other publishers. The travel agent.
Otherwise she mostly wrote to Lilah.
Thank goodness she hadn’t let Annika know she had sent her a parcel for safekeeping. She had been planning to do so as soon as she got her laptop back.
Erdem must have mailed the parcel by now. It could have been a disaster. She might have put Annika’s life in danger.
The door opened. “You may come through.”
She followed De Brabander down a passage to a room with a glass panel.
“It’s a one-way mirror. They can’t see you. Please wait until the end of the parade before you make your final decision known.”
Five men filed in. All black, three tall and two slightly shorter. Two of the taller ones and one of the shorter ones had shaven heads. One by one, according to the numbers they carried, they were ordered to step forward and turn sideways so that she could see their profiles. First left, then right.
When they were all back in line, De Brabander looked at her. “Do you want them to go through the procedure again?”
She shook her head. “Number four.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
She looked at the man with the shaven head again. “I’m sure.”
“Quite sure?”
Caz took another look. She tried to look past the smooth sc
alp, studied the features. The build. “Dead sure,” she answered firmly.
“Okay. Wait a moment.” He said something into a microphone that she couldn’t follow.
The five men filed out.
She looked enquiringly at De Brabander.
“Give us a few minutes.”
The clock on the wall said it was three minutes later when the five men filed back in. This time they all had dreadlocks.
The procedure was repeated.
The dreadlocks made it harder. No wonder she hadn’t recognized him as the street musician.
“Once again?” De Brabander asked when she didn’t give a number immediately after they had gone through their paces.
“No. Number two.”
“Certain?”
She nodded.
“Thank you, Ms. Colijn. We can go.” He bent over the microphone. “You are done.” Someone asked a question. “No, the hats were only for Professor DeReu.”
He allowed her to lead the way. “Could you please wait in the interview room again? I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Caz obeyed. She didn’t really have a choice.
Luc
Ghent
“I’m sorry it took a while, Professor.”
Luc looked up when the commissioner entered.
“Was he correctly identified?”
“We have to wait for Babette. We’d like to ask you to work with a police artist to compile an identikit of the young man. Apparently Ms. Colijn knows him as Njiwa, so that’s how we’ll refer to him in future.”
“How does she know him?”
“Evidently ran into him at Schiphol. Tell me, if a student is interested in politics, specifically the politics of the Congo, what subjects would he enroll for?”
Luc gave it a moment’s thought, then listed a few subjects. “And my own subject, of course.”
“But the Njiwa fellow isn’t a student of yours?”
Luc shook his head. “Definitely not. I would have recognized him.”
“Fine, let’s go through.”
“Will the identikit take long? I have to meet a colleague at five. We have to discuss the final arrangements for a function that’s taking place later tonight.” He wished he could use the story of the identikit as an excuse to get out of the Godparents’ Evening, but he couldn’t do it to Laura.
“I’ll take you to the artist at once. Let’s hope it’s quick.”
Luc wondered how Caz had fared. It would be a disaster if their identification of Matari didn’t correspond.
Caz
Ghent
Caz looked expectantly at De Brabander but his expression gave nothing away.
“I have to go through the identification procedure with Babette. After that, I hope you’ll be able to help us compile an identikit of Njiwa. Would you mind waiting a while longer?”
She was fed-up, but could hardly refuse. “Commissioner, just a moment. I’m trying to work out why Matari followed me the first time I went to Leuven—that is, if he was the mvet player. Also why he followed me when I was on my way to Doel. I think you’re concentrating so hard on what he wanted from me yesterday that you’re forgetting that he and Njiwa have been following me since I arrived here.” Or the detective might be so convinced of her guilt that he was focusing only on catching her out and providing himself with a reason to arrest her.
“Doel?”
“Yes, he followed me to Sint-Niklaas, as I told you, but I didn’t mention that I had actually been heading for Doel. After Sint-Niklaas I didn’t see him again. Until he popped up as a street musician in Leuven the next day. But I didn’t recognize him.”
“What were you doing in Doel? And in Leuven?”
“Tieneke told me that Doel and Leuven are two places where my birth mother used to live. I went to Doel to find out whether anyone still remembered her. In Leuven I went to the university, because Ammie Pauwels’s ex-husband had worked there, also according to Tieneke. That’s where I found out not only he, but also his son had lectured there.”
De Brabander gnawed on his lip, deep in thought. “That’s how you got hold of Luc DeReu’s phone number?”
“No, but apparently a Lieve Luykens had asked about him earlier. I looked up her number and left her a message that I would like to get in touch with Luc DeReu.”
“Do you know who Lieve Luykens is? How she’s connected with DeReu?”
“No idea, but she was good enough to contact him and give him my number.”
The detective’s eyes went to the wall clock. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Caz sat gazing at the tabletop.
They had followed her in an attempt to get to Ammie Pauwels. They must have thought Ammie had whatever they were looking for. It was the only logical conclusion. When he went through her things in Tieneke’s house the day Tieneke was killed, Matari must have seen the envelope. The imprint of the key was clearly visible on it. Inside the envelope were directions to a bank in Pretoria. He must have realized then what the key would unlock. After that, Ammie Pauwels was no longer important, only the key. He must have suspected she would keep it in her backpack. That was why she was assaulted at the Groot Begijnhof.
She should have had concussion a long time ago. Apparently it had shaken her brain cells into action.
If only she could find out what the connection was between Ammie, Matari and the key, she might get somewhere.
Thirty-one
Luc
Ghent
“Sorry to interrupt.”
Luc looked over his shoulder when De Brabander spoke behind him. Figuring out facial features was more difficult than he had anticipated.
“Do you happen to know of a connection between your stepmother and Matari?”
“A connection with Ammie?” Luc shook his head. “Unless it has something to do with the Congo. Ammie left there as a refugee in 1961. Which makes Matari too young. He could hardly have been born.”
“Interesting. According to his passport he is indeed from the DRC. Okay. I’ll see you later.” He walked away, turned again. “By the way, Ms. Colijn found out at KU Leuven that Lieve Luykens enquired about you. She got hold of Lieve’s number to get in contact with you. But she doesn’t know Mrs. Luykens is your stepmother’s carer.”
When the detective had left, Luc sat staring at the four examples of noses in front of him. He couldn’t recall the shape of Njiwa’s nose. And he had no idea what could possibly connect Matari to Ammie. Or how Matari could have known there was a connection between Caz and Ammie.
Ammie might be able to throw light on the matter. If she was lucid. If she remembered. If she didn’t soon suffer a more serious stroke.
At least the Lieve puzzle had been solved.
Caz
Ghent
She had been waiting almost an hour, her thoughts tormenting her, her arguments growing more and more muddled. As soon as she thought she had a solution to one problem, she remembered something else.
All she knew was that she shouldn’t give De Brabander any more ammunition than he already had. She couldn’t tell him about the key and the safe-deposit box. It would only strengthen his suspicion that she had hired hitmen. He would probably assume the box contained whatever she had promised Matari in exchange for murdering Tieneke, and that was why he was after the key. She couldn’t give any explanation as to how two complete strangers from Africa knew about the bloody strongbox and what was inside it. He would never believe her that it was only two pieces of African art. Or that Tieneke had voluntarily handed her the key.
“Ms. Colijn? Would you come with me, please?” The pretty girl peering around the door was the friendliest face Caz had seen all day. “I’m Elke Behrens. We’re working on an identikit and we’d like your input.”
At least it was something to do. Caz followed the girl a
nd, at her invitation, sat at a table scattered with identikit printouts.
She picked one up and held it out to Caz. “Professor DeReu helped us get to this one, but he had an appointment before he was completely satisfied. Do you reckon it’s a good likeness?”
Caz took the sketch, but shook her head. “I’ll need my reading glasses. They were in my backpack.”
“I’ll see if I can find them.” The girl hurried out.
Moments later she returned triumphantly with Caz’s spectacle case. “It was still in your backpack.”
“Thank God for small mercies. I’ve been struggling since yesterday.” She put on the glasses and studied the identikit closely. At first glance it resembled Njiwa as she remembered him, but some of the details didn’t look right. “The nose. The nostrils aren’t so big. The entire nose is finer. The lower lip isn’t so full either.”
The girl sat down at her computer, worked for a while and printed out a copy.
“Better?”
Caz nodded. “The chin isn’t quite right either. It’s too heavy. I don’t really know how to explain it.”
Half an hour later Caz had a picture in her hands that looked almost identical to Njiwa. Or the way she remembered him. “I think we’re there now.”
“Wonderful.” The girl got up with a smile. “Coffee?”
“That would be heavenly.”
“Okay, go back to the room where you waited before, and I’ll bring the coffee. Sugar? Milk?”
“Milk, no sugar, thanks.” Coffee would indeed be heavenly, but she wished she could go home, pour herself a glass of wine and begin to write down the thoughts that were whirling through her head. Try to create order in the chaos she had been dumped in.
Luc
Ghent
Luc was on time, yet Laura seemed to be on the warpath.
“Laura, what’s the matter? Why are you looking at me as if the cat dragged me in?” Luc was too tired to beat about the bush.
Laura threw him another look.
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