It was DeKok’s turn to be confused.
“She warned him away?”
Robert’s mother closed her eyes, as if in pain.
“Therese was always telling Robert not to be with her. ‘It would be his death,’ she said.”
DeKok grimaced.
“You are quite certain Therese said that?” he asked skeptically.
She nodded. Her face was serious.
“That is what she said. Therese was afraid…afraid for Robert’s life.”
“But why?”
Mrs. Achterberg licked her dry lips.
“Therese was convinced the attempts on Robert’s life were connected to his relationship with her. She had good reason. Every time a young man grew close to her, something terrible would happen. Someone would make attempts on his life. One young man who was very dear to her died mysteriously in a car accident.”
DeKok raked both hands through his grey hair in an expression of despair. He had trouble reconciling the statements. They were simply too absurd.
“She believes there is a curse on her?”
Mrs. Achterberg looked at DeKok, bewildered. She folded her hands as if in prayer. She nodded with her mouth wide open. Fear shone from her clear blue eyes.
“That’s exactly what Therese said. She said it was a curse.”
13
Vledder took his fingers off the keyboard and leaned comfortably back in his chair.
“There’s a curse on Therese?” he asked, laughing.
DeKok nodded with a serious face.
“Her very own words. She believes every man who pursues her is in danger of losing his life.”
The young inspector grinned.
“How ridiculous.”
DeKok made a negating gesture.
“Ridiculous or not,” he said calmly, “we have to look at the facts. Everet Tombs was her first love. He died in a car accident. Robert Achterberg…we know how he reached the end of his days.”
Vledder shook his head, irritated.
“Okay. Therese is what, a witch? She rides her broomstick through the night and goes to bed with the devil? DeKok, we’re no longer living in the Middle Ages. These are modern times, you know. We have electricity, satellites,” he pointed at his computer, “modern communication methods.”
“So?”
“There’s no room for curses. Next thing you know, you’ll tell me you believe in voodoo.”
“Really?”
Vledder reacted emotionally.
“Therese de la Fontaine may be unlucky. Come on, how many young men die in traffic accidents?” He pointed at DeKok. “Just to put your mind at ease, though, I’ll find out how Everet Tombs died. The reports are here, somewhere.” He patted his terminal with affection. “And as far as Robert Achterberg is concerned,” he continued, “who says that Therese had anything to do with the shooting?”
“The victim said it himself.”
Vledder waved impatiently.
“Meaning nothing!” he said sharply. “Do we now give weight to ludicrous hearsay? Please tell me we do not believe the dark arts are at play here.” He paused and continued in a calmer tone of voice. “Why did Antoinette take him home that night?”
“Because she felt pity for him.”
Vledder nodded with a grin.
“Exactly. He was oh-so-pathetic and forlorn.”
“He had been crying.”
Vledder nodded again, as if to emphasize his point.
“Correct. Robert Achterberg appeared to be a very disturbed and distressed person. He had lost his perspective. Desperate men get strange ideas, delusions, hallucinations…” Vledder spread both hands. “Considering his unrequited love, it seems predictable for him to blame the object of his love.”
DeKok looked at his partner with admiration.
“Antoinette happened to offer a sympathetic ear?”
Vledder became enthused with his own theories.
“Of course. Robert told Antoinette exactly what a woman wants to hear.”
DeKok suddenly pushed his chair back and placed his legs on the top of his desk. His face was transformed by a grimace of pain. All at once they returned. Little devils with hot barbs tortured his calves. Slowly, very slowly, the pain became more bearable. DeKok let out a deep sigh.
Vledder knew the symptoms.
“Tired feet?” he asked, concern in his voice.
DeKok nodded slowly.
“Without warning the pain returns. It’s always a nasty surprise.”
“Why don’t you see a doctor?”
DeKok shook his head.
“I told you before, the doctors tell me it’s all psychosomatic. Every time I reach a dead end in an investigation, the little devils appear. When I am at a loss as to how, or even whether, to continue, the pain comes.”
Vledder smiled.
“You’re better than a barometer.”
DeKok pulled up his trousers and rubbed his calves.
“But my barometer,” he said with a weak smile, “always gives an accurate prediction.”
Vledder cocked his hat.
“Does this indicate,” he said, pointing at DeKok’s legs, “lack of progress? Are we on the wrong trail?”
DeKok stopped rubbing his legs. He placed his feet back on the floor and looked at Vledder with a friendly expression.
“Back to what you were talking about, I’m still deeply impressed with your reasoning. Very astute, I must say. Robert Achterberg showed all the classic symptoms of a troubled, overstressed man.” He paused a moment before continuing. “Yet,” he continued, “I cannot rid myself of the idea Therese is connected to his death.”
“How?”
“That I don’t know.”
Vledder gave him a suspicious look.
“Do you, eh, do you believe in that curse?”
“It is Therese who believes in it.”
Vledder turned red.
“What if she does believe in it?” he probed. “It is disinformation unless we can use it to solve this puzzle.”
DeKok looked at him, his face expressionless.
“It might fit,” he said slowly, “if it could lead us to the man or woman who makes the curse come true.”
They both fell silent after that remark. Both searched their feelings and weighed them against known facts. A sudden knocking made them both look toward the door. It opened slowly.
Matthias Heusden stood in the door opening.
DeKok stood up. With long, slow paces Heusden approached DeKok. Their eyes met. It looked like the beginning of a duel. When Matthias reached the desk, he stopped and unbuttoned his expensive suede coat. His movements were slow and precise.
DeKok waited patiently for the ritual to come to an end. Then he waved at the chair next to his desk.
“Please be seated,” he said pleasantly and with an amiable smile. “Mr. Heusden, an unexpected visit.” The smile disappeared. “Nothing serious has happened, I hope?”
Heusden pulled up the legs of his trousers to preserve the crease and sat down.
“This is painful, but I don’t think it would be responsible to wait any longer.”
“What has happened?”
“I need to report a missing person.”
“Therese?”
“Yes. She’s been gone for two nights and I’m worried.”
DeKok nodded his understanding.
“You have heard nothing?”
“Not a word.”
“Strange.”
“I think so, too. It’s against her nature. Therese is usually a very thoughtful, considerate young woman who keeps her appointments.”
“And she had appointments?”
“Certainly. Therese is much in demand as a model.”
DeKok looked at him intently.
“Have you asked her mother? Perhaps she knows where she is.”
Heusden reacted harshly.
“I want nothing to do with her.”
DeKok feigned surprise.
; “But after we came to visit you, you called her immediately and advised her to disappear.”
Matthias Heusden moved in his chair.
“I, eh, at the time I seriously believed,” he said hesitantly, “she had made good on her threat to kill Robert. The least I could do was warn her.” He gestured apologetically. “After all, I’ve been married to her for a number of years.”
DeKok rubbed the bridge of his nose with his little finger.
“Do you know Manfred Nettelhorst?”
Heusden looked up, a suspicious look in his eyes.
“Yes,” he said, “I know him.”
“Mother Maria Goose insists you sold Therese to him.”
“And?”
DeKok looked genuinely surprised.
“And you find that normal behavior?”
Heusden nodded.
“You’re sitting behind this desk because you’ve sold yourself to the police, the law, the country.”
DeKok shook his head and smiled.
“Not quite. I’ll give you this: I rent my knowledge, my best efforts, and my qualifications to the judiciary for an inadequate fee. At the end of the day, my life and my soul belong to me.”
Heusden reacted vehemently.
“Therese hasn’t sold her soul either.”
“What did she sell?”
Matthias Heusden lowered his head and rubbed the corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.
“I will try to explain,” he said wearily. “A few years ago I advised Therese to compete in a beauty pageant. Therese was an up-and-coming photographer’s model. She needed the publicity. At the time, I knew some of the jury members. It seemed Therese had a real chance of winning. During one of the preselections, Manfred Nettelhorst was in the audience. I had never met him. I only knew that he was wealthy, very wealthy, and an art collector. After the proceedings, he approached Therese and me. He placed a hand on her shoulder and said to me, ‘I’ll buy her. How much is it going to cost?’”
DeKok looked incredulous.
“That’s what he said? ‘I’ll buy her…how much is it going to cost?’”
“His exact words.”
“How did you react?”
Heusden shrugged.
“I looked at him, dumbfounded. I was too astonished to say anything. Nettelhorst saw my hesitation and urged me to name a price.”
“And you named a price?”
“Of course not,” Heusden said testily. “After I had somewhat collected myself, I asked Nettelhorst how he envisioned such a purchase. Please know that I didn’t want Therese to choose to be in ‘the life,’ as her mother did.”
“And?”
“Nettelhorst assured me he had no dishonorable motives. He told me not to worry on that account. He said he was a homosexual and his interest in Therese was not erotic.”
“Then what?”
“He said he was a gatherer of unblemished beauty. And he saw a living symbol of that in Therese.”
“Un-blem-ished beauty?”
“Exactly.”
“And that’s why he wanted to buy her?”
“Yes, indeed. He looked upon her as a beautiful—although living and breathing—work of art.”
“And the purchase was for life?”
Heusden shook his head.
“No, not for life. If, in the sole judgment of Nettelhorst, Therese could no longer be seen as an unblemished beauty, his ownership would become null and void.”
DeKok nodded his understanding.
“Old, fat, wrinkled, or slightly aged, she would no longer be worth a red cent.”
Heusden took a deep breath.
“You express yourself rather bluntly, but that’s what it amounted to, you’re right.”
“What did he offer?”
Matthias pursed his lips and spread his manicured hands.
“A beautiful house on Emperor’s Canal.”
“Where you live now?”
“Yes. The house is, and remains, Therese’s property. In addition, for as long as the arrangement is in force, she receives a generous monthly stipend.”
DeKok looked at him sharply.
“And what did he want in return?”
“Nothing.”
DeKok smiled grimly.
“Nothing?” he repeated.
“No.”
The grey sleuth rubbed a flat hand over his face. Then, pressing down heavily on his desk, he leaned forward.
“My dear Mr. Heusden,” he spoke with emphasis, “I was not exactly born yesterday. I’ve been around, as they say. And for years it has been my job to research human behavior. Therefore, I don’t mind listening to your story, but it has to have some basis in reality.” He paused for a moment and leaned back, his face a steel mask. “What,” he demanded, “did Manfred Nettelhorst want from Therese in return?”
Matthias Heusden lowered his head.
“She was to remain unblemished.”
14
“Un-blem-ished.”
DeKok spoke the word slowly, emphasizing every syllable. It was the second time during the course of this investigation that the word hounded his thoughts. Unblemished, he knew, meant pure, spotless, chaste, untouched, virginal, unsullied, and unadulterated.
The grey sleuth looked thoughtfully at Heusden.
“Did that mean,” he asked carefully, “Manfred Nettelhorst did not allow any boyfriends, lovers, around Therese?”
“That’s what it meant, yes.”
“And how did he seek to control that?”
A painful smile fell across Heusden’s face.
“In the beginning we had two full-time bodyguards in the house.”
“Bodyguards?”
Heusden nodded.
“Manfred Nettelhorst sent two men. They did various jobs for him.”
“Such as guarding Therese?”
“Indeed. And one or the other functioned as an escort or driver whenever Therese was called for an audition by Nettelhorst.”
“Audition?”
“Yes,” nodded Heusden. “That’s the term Nettelhorst used. He scheduled one of these meetings every two months. One of the bodyguards would drive her to his villa in the country. I went with her once but had to wait outside. Therese told me what happened.”
“What happened?”
“Therese had to undress and take a bath. Every trace of makeup had to be removed and she had to make sure there were no marks on her skin from her clothing. After the first visit he also told her she had to remove all body hair. Only the hair on her head, her eyebrows, and eyelashes were allowed. She went to a salon to have all of her body and facial hair removed. When she was ready, she would knock on the bathroom door from the inside and Nettelhorst would tell her to come out.”
“Naked?”
“Yes, Nettelhorst was always by himself.”
“Then what happened?”
“Therese would walk around the room, making small dance steps as she paraded before him. Afterward Nettelhorst would have her come closer, so he could study her.”
DeKok snorted.
“That’s when he checked on her unblemished state?”
“Yes, but he never touched her. She was told to put her hands on her head and slowly turn around several times while he took a close look at her body.”
“I can imagine,” snorted DeKok again. “And that was it?” he asked.
“Just about. After close examination she dressed in a G-string and a tight-fitting bodice. After she showed off the underwear, he would have her dress in new clothes and shoes; he would have them waiting on a chair. They were always the latest high-fashion creations and a perfect fit. She would then leave. Before exiting the room she was to face him and curtsy. A small suitcase with her ‘old’ clothes was always waiting for her at the front door.”
“And she did that every two months?”
Heusden sighed.
“It was all laid down in the sales contract,” he said resignedly. He raised a finger in the air. “Bu
t honesty compels me to say he never laid a finger on her and he never invited any of his friends to the showing.”
DeKok grinned without mirth.
“Therese was his exclusive property. An exclusive art object.”
Matthias pursed his lips, as if considering.
“Yes,” he said finally, “that seems to be the correct interpretation.”
DeKok reflected.
“How was Therese able to elude the two bodyguards when she fled in the night?”
A shadow fled across Heusden’s handsome face.
“I had soon had enough of the two of them. They lurked everywhere, watching everything and everybody. One of them, a big guy with a moustache, started making advances toward Therese. I called Nettelhorst and advised him to withdraw his two muscle boys.”
“And he did?”
“Yes.”
“And who took over as guard?”
“I.”
“So you had to make sure that Therese retained her, eh, her unblemished state?”
“Yes.”
DeKok spread his hands on the desk.
“Why would you think of taking Robert Achterberg into the house?”
Matthias Heusden did not answer at once. He rubbed two fingers inside his collar.
“Robert was wanted by the police,” he said finally. “He was supposed to have produced pornography. It seemed his arrest was imminent. Therese assured me there was nothing between her and Robert. She vowed the relationship would never be a romantic one. She also agreed he could only stay for a short time.”
DeKok nodded.
“Until the police interest abated and Robert could go back to his mother.”
“Yes.”
“Had you ever met Robert Achterberg before that?”
Heusden nodded.
“Therese brought him home for lunch a few times, while they were both on the same assignment.”
“You knew someone had targeted Robert, had made attempts on his life?”
“Therese told me.”
“What did you think about that?”
Heusden hesitated for a few moments before he spoke.
“I never took those so-called murder attempts seriously. It was my feeling Robert was trying to impress Therese. It sounded like bragging, you understand.”
DeKok nodded to himself.
“Did Manfred Nettelhorst know you had taken in an acquaintance? I think we can call Robert that. Did he know he was living in the house?”
DeKok and the Dead Lovers Page 10