DeKok and the Dead Lovers

by A. C. Baantjer

  “We’re going to see Matthias Heusden?”

  DeKok nodded vaguely and slid down in the seat until he almost sat on his back. A mysterious smile played around his lips.

  “Why are we going there?” asked Vledder.

  “I want to ask him a question.”

  “What question?”

  “I want to ask him if he really killed Robert Achterberg.”

  Vledder seemed puzzled.

  “Really?”

  DeKok glanced up at him.

  “Aren’t you convinced he did it?”

  Vledder did not answer. They drove through the city in silence. It was a typical rainy night in Amsterdam. Wet pavement mirrored the bright lights of neon advertisements. Vledder found parking near number 1217 Emperor’s Canal. He came to a stop between the trees at the water’s edge. As DeKok began to exit the car, Vledder stopped him.

  “Heusden,” whispered Vledder. “I see him in the mirror. He’s walking behind us, on the sidewalk.” He paused. “Should we follow him?”

  DeKok shook his head.

  “I know where he’s going.”

  Vledder looked surprised.

  “You know…” He did not complete the sentence.

  DeKok glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

  “Matthias Heusden,” he said calmly, “is running a little late. He is on his way to Warmoes Street Station to have a conversation with Fred Prins. Detective Prins wishes to discuss a certain missing persons report regarding Therese de la Fontaine. Fred Prins has just taken over the case for me.”

  Vledder gave his partner a calculating look.

  “Is that a bluff?”

  DeKok shook his head.

  “Just a small trick to keep Heusden out of the neighborhood for a while.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re going inside the house. We don’t want Heusden to bother us while we are about our business.”

  “And what exactly is our business?”

  “To look and see if there’s a telephone.”

  Vledder’s mouth fell open.

  “What?” he exclaimed, completely confused.

  DeKok grinned.

  “Am I speaking Russian?”

  16

  Past the half windows of the sous-terrain, Vledder and DeKok climbed the bluestone steps to the front door of Therese’s house. They stopped in front of the door and DeKok studied the lock.

  He produced his lock-picking instrument and selected a combination. He held the supple steel between thumb, index, and middle finger, carefully inserting it into the lock. DeKok made a few barely perceptible hand movements and the lock clicked open. He withdrew his tool and silently opened the door by pressing on it lightly with his shoulder.

  Once both men were inside, DeKok closed the door behind them. The beams of their flashlights played through the dark foyer.

  They moved cautiously down the hallway and through the wide marble corridor. DeKok passed the sitting room where Heusden had received them. During his many years of service at Warmoes Street Station, he had come to know the typical layout of the old canal houses. He knew the stairs to the higher floors were usually situated in the back of the house.

  Vledder poked him in the back.

  “Where are you going?”

  DeKok proceeded up the staircase without answering. When they reached a turning point, he addressed his partner.

  “I want to see the room where Robert Achterberg stayed while he was here.”

  “Why?”

  DeKok did not answer but resumed climbing the stairs. The ancient wood creaked under his weight.

  They proceeded down a long, oak-paneled corridor toward the front of the house. The last door caught DeKok’s particular attention. He rested his hand on the doorknob to discover the door was not locked. He pushed it open and stepped into the room, followed by Vledder.

  To the left was an antique double bed often called a lits-jumeaux. It was an innovation during a gracious period. Even married couples of the time would not have thought of sleeping in a single bed. Thus the lits-jumeaux was invented: it was actually two beds of comfortable width, sharing a common headboard. One of the beds was made up and covered with a bedspread. The covers were thrown back on the second bed. There was an indentation in the pillow.

  Next to the bed, on an elegant Queen Anne table, stood a telephone. There was an old-fashioned label at the base of the instrument. DeKok leaned closer and read the phone number.

  He crouched down and looked under the bed. There was a suitcase there, which he pulled out. It was an expensive yellow leather suitcase with copper reinforcements on the corners. There was a lock with a letter combination. For just a moment he pondered using his locksmith’s skills on the lock, but then he thought better of it. With creaking knees he pushed himself upright.

  Vledder pointed at the suitcase.

  “Are we taking that with us?”

  DeKok shook his head.

  “You want to fabricate another fictitious report?” he asked with a grin.

  Without waiting for an answer, he went over to the high windows. Light entered the room, diffused by lace curtains. Long shadows played on the walls and ceiling.

  DeKok stood in front of the window, his hands behind his back. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. He stayed for many minutes, enjoying the view of the canal.

  Suddenly his eyes lit up. It was as if a veil had been lifted, giving him back his eyesight. All at once he understood what had happened. He knew why and how, and he knew the perpetrator.

  Vledder came to stand next to him.

  “What’s all this stuff about the telephone?”

  DeKok gestured around the room.

  “This room was the one Maria Goose occupied when she lived here with Heusden.” He pointed at the telephone on the Queen Anne table. “This was her telephone. She had her own number. Therese also has her own number. Some time ago it was common for houses like this to be turned into offices. This building would have served a number of concerns; the phone connections date from that time. Three phone lines serve three separate numbers in the house. The third line is in Heusden’s name. I discovered it when I tried to reach Maria Goose by telephone. The numbers were all listed in the guide.”

  Vledder shrugged his shoulders.

  “We had to come all the way here to confirm that?”

  DeKok nodded.

  “I wanted to verify whether Robert Achterberg took his own telephone calls here or whether someone else in the household picked up the phone.”

  DeKok narrowed his eyes. His sharp ears picked up the sound of footsteps in the marble corridor below. He eased over to the door and listened. Soon he heard the stairs creak. The shuffling footsteps grew closer, closer.

  The two inspectors took positions at either side of the door. The sound of footsteps stopped. They waited agonizing minutes as the doorknob turned and a figure slowly entered the room. The light from the windows revealed the silhouette of a formless jacket and wide slacks.

  In one rapid movement DeKok slammed the door and aimed his flashlight at the face of the intruder.

  Vledder gasped and DeKok’s mouth fell open.

  Antoinette Graaf was caught in the beam of the flashlight.

  They drove away from the canal. DeKok requested Vledder park in a quiet place behind Wester Church. DeKok was seated in the back, next to Antoinette. A mocking smile played around the young woman’s lips.

  “Are you going to arrest me again?”

  “How did you get inside?” he asked severely.

  “Through a window. I could easily push it up.”

  “I did not see any open windows when we left.”

  “I closed it again, of course.”

  “Why did you come to the house?”

  “To talk with Therese.”

  “To talk to Therese,” snorted DeKok, “you had to climb in through a window?”

  Antoinette lowered her head.

  “I came for the suitcase,”
she said softly.

  “What suitcase?”

  “Robert’s suitcase. When he fled from the house, he forgot his suitcase.”

  “What’s in that suitcase?”

  “He said it contained a lot of money.”

  DeKok glanced at Vledder in the rearview mirror.

  “How did Robert come by all that money?”

  She gave him a half smile.

  “He didn’t tell me.”

  DeKok turned in the seat so he could look straight at her.

  “Why didn’t you say anything about the suitcase before?”

  She shrugged.

  “I didn’t think it was all that important at the time. Besides, you didn’t ask.”

  DeKok grinned.

  “But now it’s important enough to compel you to break into the house?”

  Antoinette looked at DeKok with an open expression.

  “Money doesn’t come easily to a cleaning woman. I have to work very hard for very little return. Robert is dead. He doesn’t need the money anymore.”

  “You thought you deserved it?”

  She nodded slowly to herself.

  “Robert entered my life without warning,” she said somberly. “My instinct at the time was to help. We enjoyed each other’s company for a few hours. Nothing but sorrow and misery came to me. Yes, I believe I’m entitled to whatever the suitcase contains.”

  DeKok looked at her. Strangely, he felt a certain pity for her, as he had during their first encounter.

  “Where is your brother?” he asked softly.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since my release.”

  “Do you know a man called DeBeau?”

  She nodded.

  “He is one of Marius’ friends. They were both working for some rich guy as bodyguards, or something like that.”

  “What do you mean by something like that?”

  “They did other jobs for him.”

  “Such as?”

  Antoinette gestured wildly.

  “How should I know?” she exclaimed. “It isn’t hard to find some rich geezer looking for suckers to do his dirty work.” She snorted contemptuously. “How else do you think the rich get and stay rich?”

  “What’s the name of this particular rich geezer?”

  “I don’t know.”

  DeKok smiled an encouraging smile.

  “You’re not very good with names.”

  Antoinette Graaf shook her head.

  “Names mean nothing to me. I’m only interested in people and who they are. I remember how they live, how they think, and what sort of feelings they have.”

  DeKok leaned closer.

  “Just one more question, then we’ll take you home.” He sighed deeply. “When you found Robert sitting on the stoop at Nassau Quay, did you notice anyone nearby?”

  “Close to us?”

  “Yes.”

  Antoinette shook her head.

  “No. But there was man on the other side of the water, across the canal. He looked in our direction. Later he walked for a while in the same direction as Robert and me.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  She looked vaguely into the distance, as if trying to remember.

  “No,” she said pensively. “I didn’t pay much attention. Besides it was dark and he didn’t try to close the distance between us. As I recall he wore an expensive-looking overcoat.”

  Elated, Vledder slapped the top of his desk several times.

  “I told you,” he gushed. “It was Matthias Heusden. He came here wearing that tailored coat.”

  DeKok rubbed the back of his neck.

  “You’re right,” he said, his tone sluggish. “Matthias Heusden came here wearing custom-made clothing.”

  Vledder’s eyes glistened.

  “It all fits together,” he said excitedly. “Heusden must have chased Robert from the house. They got to opposite sides of Nassau Quay at about the same time. Had Antoinette not stopped, he would have killed Robert then and there.”

  DeKok pursed his lips.

  “Possibly,” he said after a long pause.

  Vledder laughed.

  “It happened just that way,” he insisted. “It’s about time we force Henri Tombs to tell us where he’s hidden Therese! She’s the key to it all.”

  DeKok looked up

  “And if we cannot force Henri Tombs to comply?”

  Vledder looked surprised.

  “We charge him with a felony—obstruction of justice.”

  DeKok ignored the remark. He stretched an arm out in Vledder’s direction.

  “To put my mind at ease,” he said, “you were going to find out what we have on the car accident in which Everet Tombs died.”

  Vledder grinned broadly.

  “Oh, yes. We were looking into the curse on Therese.”

  DeKok nodded.

  “Well?” he asked.

  Vledder shook his head.

  “Nothing to it. Aside from the fatality, there was nothing unusual about the car accident. There was no evidence of a crime. I mean the vehicle hadn’t been sabotaged. Everet’s vehicle was broadsided by another car in an intersection. The boy died instantly. The driver of the other car also died on the scene. His autopsy revealed an alcohol content of 3.7 on the current scale.”

  DeKok whistled through his teeth.

  “That’s at least a bottle of gin.”

  Vledder nodded.

  “It’s a wonder he was able to get to his car and get the key in the ignition. Henri Tombs requested a closer investigation. There appeared to be no connection whatsoever between the two men.” The young inspector looked at his colleague. “Is your mind a little more at ease now?”

  DeKok did not miss his partner’s mocking tone.

  “Thus, no mystery,” he said simply.

  Vledder shook his head.

  “As I said before, it was a car accident—happens all the time.”

  The telephone on DeKok’s desk rang. As usual Vledder reached over and answered it. He listened and made some notes. Then he replaced the receiver.

  DeKok looked expectant.

  “Who was it?”

  “Maria Goose.”

  “What did she want?”

  Vledder swallowed.

  “DeBeau is dead.”

  17

  Vledder swiftly maneuvered the old police car through traffic. Despite the late hour the streets were busy. The inner city of Amsterdam never sleeps.

  Vledder ignored several red lights, to DeKok’s displeasure. When Vledder accessed the highway out of the city, he managed to coax the antique VW past seventy miles per hour. The car shuddered and rattled.

  “Wow,” said Vledder, “they really did a good job of overhauling the engine.”

  DeKok placed a hand on the driver’s knee.

  “Think about my pension,” he urged. “I’ve paid into it for a long time.”

  Vledder glanced aside.

  “Maria Goose’s voice sounded a bit panicky,” he apologized. “She asked if we could come as quickly as possible.” He did ease his foot off the gas pedal, and DeKok slid farther down in the seat.

  “Dead is dead,” he growled. “DeBeau isn’t going anywhere.” He pushed his little hat deeper over his eyes. “Even our first-aid education won’t help us now.”

  A series of traffic lights near Diemen caused significant delay. Vledder nervously banged the steering wheel with his fist.

  “Why have stoplights at night? What nonsense.”

  DeKok rubbed his nose.

  “As long as we have people like you on the road at night…” He did not complete the sentence.

  Vledder shot him an angry look but said nothing.

  After a long silence, DeKok sat up a bit straighter.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Baarn.”

  “Baarn? Are you sure?”

  Vledder nodded. “First exit after Eemnes.” Then added in an irritated voice, “I wish they would number the exits, as
they do in the States. Eliminates the guesswork.”

  DeKok ignored the remark.

  “Why is Maria Goose in Baarn?” he asked.

  “She’s with her daughter.”

  “And they have a dead DeBeau with them? Why?”

  “Who knows,” exclaimed Vledder, exasperated. “I made a few quick notes. Before I could ask for more details, she broke the connection.”

  “But don’t you have some system whereby you can call back the number that just called?”

  “Automatic redial,” admitted Vledder. He looked sheepish. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “Did someone inform the local police?”

  Vledder shook his head.

  “I don’t think so. Mother Goose in her panic seems to equate you with the whole police concept.”

  DeKok fell silent. A hundred questions came to mind, but he realized that it was senseless to bother Vledder. He slid down in the seat again and dozed off.

  Vledder shook DeKok awake.

  “We’re here,” he shouted in his ear.

  With a groan DeKok straightened out in his seat.

  “Where?” he asked sleepily.

  Vledder pointed to a white-painted villa through the windshield. It was set back from the road about forty feet. Yellow moonlight cast random tree shadows on the walls.

  “This has to be it,” said Vledder. “8 Princess Marie Lane.”

  Suddenly alert, DeKok pushed his hat back.

  “What an ugly house,” he said in a disparaging tone. “It’s cold and eerie, like a haunted house. Nothing, not a shipload of fine cognac, could induce me to live here.”

  Vledder grinned.

  “I don’t think they want you in Baarn. Only respectable people live here.”

  DeKok nodded his agreement and stepped out of the car. He walked slowly down the gravel driveway, followed by his partner. He reached the front door. As soon as he rang the bell, the porch light came on. The door opened.

  Without restraint, Maria Goose threw herself at DeKok. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on both cheeks.

  “Oh God, oh God,” she panted. “I’m so grateful to see you!” She shook her head. “I cannot endure it another minute. The dead guy…he just sits there, looking at me.”