Death on the Canal

by Anja de Jager

  The lift was small, and luckily nobody else got in. When I reached the sixth floor and the doors opened, I stepped out into a wall of warmth. The heat from all the other floors had risen and the sun was pounding down on the roof. Sweat started to form in my armpits.

  Kevin Haanen, the security manager, had his office just to the left. He wiped his hand on his trousers before holding it out to me but it was still moist when I shook it. He wore a dark suit and his tie was the exact green of the shop’s plastic bags. It was surely too warm for these clothes. I was glad I wore a T-shirt and linen trousers. If I had to be here for a while, I would melt.

  ‘I won’t take much of your time,’ I said. ‘Can you just tell me’ – I held out the photo of the woman in the floral dress – ‘if you recognise this woman.’

  Kevin held up the photo to the light. ‘Never seen her before,’ he said. ‘Definitely doesn’t work here.’

  ‘Never seen her with Piotr?’ I asked.

  He pursed his lips and shook his head thoughtfully. ‘No, but check with the others. I don’t do the rounds with them all day, of course, so he might have told them what he never mentioned to me. Just follow me to the control room.’

  We walked down a corridor with dark-brown carpet that looked as if it had been on this floor since the seventies. He opened a door to the right. ‘Alex,’ he said, ‘do you have a minute?’

  The security guards’ office was depressing. There was no other word for it. I wouldn’t need to stretch out my arms far to touch the ceiling. The cloth of the nearest chair was covered with stains that I hoped were coffee, very similar in colour to the carpet, and the seat was frayed at the edges. The only thing that was new and shiny in this area was the bank of screens. They seemed to have been transported from a high-tech firm and planted on the sixth floor of the department store. It was what I imagined the flight deck at traffic control at an airport would look like.

  The young man dragged himself away from the screen that he had been watching as intently as if it was showing the World Cup final. As he turned round, over his shoulder I could see that the camera showed the outside of a row of changing rooms. ‘What’s up?’

  I showed my ID and said my name.

  ‘Alex van Maren.’ Alex was young, early twenties, with short-cropped blonde hair that gave his face a vaguely military hint. Piotr’s haircut had been similar and I wondered if they went to the same hairdresser. The security guard’s freckled face pulled lines of curiosity. ‘Are you the detective who was there last night? When Piotr got stabbed?’

  I nodded. I showed my photo again. ‘Do you know this woman?’

  He took the picture and stared at it. ‘Never seen her.’

  ‘Doesn’t work here?’

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t think I’ve seen her on there either.’ He gestured with a thumb towards the bank of screens behind him.

  ‘You’d remember everybody?’

  ‘I’d remember if she’d stolen something recently or if she’d met with Piotr.’ He turned back to watching the screens with their mosaic of views from the various cameras that captured shoppers milling around. A young girl thumbed through a rack of trousers. A mother was holding a child by one hand and feeling the material of a dress with another. Two schoolgirls were giggling as they held up shirts against themselves. Alex’s attitude became more alert. He pulled a walkie-talkie from a pocket, pressed a button and spoke clearly. ‘Caz, check the girl in the striped top at the Nicole Farhi area.’

  The girl he was talking about was in a corner of the area. I could see her folding a T-shirt and sliding it into the plastic bag she had with her. Caz, the security guard of this area, walked up to the girl and put a calm hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Impressive,’ I said. ‘You clearly have an eye for it.’

  ‘You get good at it. So much stuff disappears. You see a couple of people steal, you know the behaviour.’

  I nodded. ‘Anyway, how well did you know Piotr?’

  ‘Not that well at all. I’ve been here only a few weeks. I was at de Bijenkorf before. But speak to Ronald. He and Piotr were mates, I think.’

  ‘Ronald?’

  ‘My colleague.’ He pointed to the leftmost screen. ‘Him.’

  I leaned forward to have a close look at the man. Even from behind I recognised him. My breakfast jumped around in my stomach. He was watching the exit next to one of the perfume counters. On the screen, he looked like an extra in a cop show. The expendable one. I shuddered.

  ‘I can ask him to come up.’Alex’s index finger was poised above a button.

  ‘No, I’ll go down.’ I was keen to get out of this room. The warmth made my hangover a lot worse. I hadn’t known that Ronald worked here.

  I went back to the ground floor and skirted between women looking at cosmetics. I walked up to the perfume counter, which was a whole new assault on my senses. It had been over six months ago that I’d seen Ronald de Boer last, when he’d still been a police officer. When we’d worked on a case together. If I ever needed a reminder of what life after the police force could be like, it stood right in front of me: a fifty-something-year-old security guard. Regardless of the smart suit, it screamed of failure. The taste in my mouth was that of vindication.

  ‘Ronald,’ I said. ‘Can I talk to you for a second?’

  He turned around. I’d expected more surprise, but his grey eyes looked steadily into mine. He wore a black shirt under a black suit with a black tie. The security guards’ outfit was clearly designed to fit in with the other men here. The only giveaway was a discreet wire that snaked from the top pocket of his jacket to his ear. Alex had probably warned him that I was coming down. ‘Lotte,’ he said. He stuck his hand out to shake mine.

  I didn’t take it.

  He kept it hanging in the air for a few seconds before scratching the back of his head with it. His face was pale compared to the suntanned tourists. Maybe it was because he patrolled inside the department store and never saw sunlight, or because his colleague had died.

  ‘I was so shocked about Piotr,’ he said. ‘He was a good guy.’

  ‘Do you know this woman?’ I showed him the picture.

  He took it and studied it closely. ‘Never seen her before.’ He handed it back to me.

  ‘Did Piotr have a child?’

  Ronald laughed. ‘I’d be extremely surprised. Why do you think that?’

  ‘He had a photo of a small child in his wallet. I think this woman’ – I pointed at the photo – ‘gave it to him.’

  ‘No idea what that could be about.’

  ‘What was he like? Piotr?’

  ‘I liked him. He was easy to work with.’

  ‘Do you know a Natalie?’

  ‘We’ve got a couple of Natalies working here. Any Natalie in particular?’

  ‘One who swapped texts with Piotr. His girlfriend maybe?’

  ‘Natalie Schuurman probably. But she wasn’t his girlfriend.’

  ‘Quite interesting messages from someone who isn’t your girlfriend. Quite explicit.’

  ‘She’s into fashion. Let’s say she’s flamboyant. She likes to joke. She …’ He didn’t finish his sentence but turned away to watch people enter the department store again.

  ‘She what?’

  Ronald didn’t respond.

  The air con was turned up high, and every time someone came through the door, I could feel the warmer air streaming in from outside. An Asian woman loaded with plastic bags marked with the department store’s logo shot me a glance. She was clearly wondering why I was standing next to the security guard. Probably thought I’d been shoplifting and we were now waiting for the police to turn up. Caught looking, she averted her eyes quickly and hurried out of the store.

  ‘You watch this door all day?’ I said.

  ‘It’s like a really boring TV programme. And then I walk around a bit. Why do you ask? Are you looking for a job?’

  ‘I’ve got a job. One of the ones you used to have.’

  ‘This isn
’t too bad. If a security guard messes up, someone steals something. If the police mess up, someone can get killed.’

  The feelings that had been bubbling just underneath my skin flared up. It was a toxic combination of guilt and anger. It wasn’t about Piotr but about the man I’d shot. ‘I didn’t mess up,’ I said. Trust Ronald to know those details and hit me with them.

  Ronald looked at me silently for a few seconds before turning back to the door. ‘Interesting,’ he said. ‘I was actually talking about myself. Exactly what happened in that bar?’

  Last night was a much safer topic of conversation. ‘I didn’t see anything. He was having drinks with a woman.’ I took a step towards the exit. ‘So this Natalie, if she wasn’t his girlfriend, then what was she to Piotr?’

  ‘She’s his neighbour. That’s all. I think she got him the job here.’

  ‘Is she working today?’

  ‘She’s on the second floor.’

  I turned my back on Ronald, got my phone out and called Thomas. He agreed that we should interview Natalie together. He was searching Piotr’s flat with Ingrid but he could come over after he’d finished the area that he was checking. I disconnected the call and threw a glance at my watch. I had time for a quick coffee in the store’s air-conditioned café.

  Chapter Four

  They sold chic dresses in bright shades in the part of the department store where Ronald had told me that Natalie Schuurman worked. I could never see myself wearing any of these clothes. As I’d been having my coffee, Thomas had called me back from outside Piotr’s flat. He confirmed that Natalie was Piotr’s neighbour but said that the sign by the door had read Natalie & Koen. It was better to have a chat with Natalie before talking to Koen, and Thomas had left Ingrid by herself to look through Piotr’s flat. He should be here soon. In the meantime, I continued to mill around feeling as conspicuous as a moth amongst butterflies.

  I touched the sleeve of one of the dresses. The silk flowed through my fingers and felt cool to the touch. It reminded me of a holiday in Rome. I’d still been married and we’d stayed in an opulent hotel where the beds had slinky silk sheets that wicked away heat and sweat during sticky nights. I could have done with sheets like that last night.

  The cat wouldn’t appreciate them, though. The thought of Pippi sliding on the silk sheets made me smile. I picked up the garment, still on its hanger, and held it in front of me. The bottle green picked out the colour of my eyes and the material was seductive against my skin. Dresses really weren’t my style. I should put it back.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  I spun round to see a striking woman behind me. Her blonde hair was so pale it was almost white, and it drew attention to her eyes, which were deep blue like sapphires. Her name badge showed that this was Natalie Schuurman. She wore an outfit that probably came from the collection of the same designer: a tight-fitting fuchsia cardigan over a tangerine top with a narrow dark pencil skirt. Her job was to convince shoppers to start buying their autumn clothes, but just the thought of wool on a day like today made my skin itch with heat. Natalie still managed to look like a character out of Frozen. The only thing to mar her beauty was a large bruise that hugged her left cheekbone. Even her thick make-up couldn’t completely hide the purple edges. The skin underneath her eye had a tinge of yellow. The bruise was a few days old.

  ‘Do you want to try it on?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t have any occasion to wear it.’

  ‘A special dinner with your …’ Natalie’s eyes moved down to my ringless hands, ‘boyfriend?’ she finished.

  No need to tell her that there wasn’t a boyfriend and that there hadn’t been one for a while. I was relieved to see Thomas come up the escalator. I showed Natalie my badge. ‘I’m Detective Lotte Meerman and this is my colleague Detective Thomas Jansen. Can we talk to you somewhere in private?’

  The professional smile left her face. ‘Of course.’ She took the dress from me and put it back on the rail, smoothing it carefully to prevent any creases. ‘Come on through. This is about Piotr, isn’t it?’ She didn’t look at me as she said it but concentrated on pushing numbers on a keypad next to a discreetly disguised door, painted black to blend into the wall. Behind it was a hidden storage area with a desk squeezed in. It was much more obvious once you were inside that what had seemed a solid wall was nothing more than plywood painted black. Boxes and metal bars full of clothes in plastic wrappers filled most of the room. There was only one chair, so Thomas and I stayed standing.

  ‘We found texts from a Natalie on Piotr’s phone.’ I gave the number that the texts had come from. ‘Is that yours?’

  She leaned back against the desk but in such a way that her tight pencil skirt didn’t crease. She rested one hand behind her. Her nails were polished in the exact same shade of pink as her lipstick. I was very aware of the tatty T-shirt that I was wearing. Natalie was beautiful in an immaculate way. It would take her hours in the morning to look this good. She stared at me without emotion.

  I read some of the texts out loud. ‘I need u now. U want it 2. Where are u? Any of that ring a bell?’

  The look on her face hardly changed, but her eyes flooded with tears that didn’t make her mascara run. After a few seconds she managed to control herself.

  ‘Yes, I sent those. Piotr and I had a bit of a fling.’ She ran a single finger carefully under the edge of her eyelashes.

  ‘Take your time,’Thomas said. ‘I understand you’re upset. You were in a relationship with him?’ He rummaged through his pockets until he found a handkerchief and held it out to her.

  She shook her head ‘Relationship? No, it wasn’t anything serious.’ She sniffed at the end of the sentence, the way a bunny rabbit would smell a particularly tasty carrot. ‘But it’s been so hard ever since I heard that he was murdered. Everybody was talking about his death this morning and I had to pretend that he was only a colleague.’

  ‘He was also your neighbour,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, but that’s different. It’s a relief to finally speak about it. Even if it’s only in front of the police.’ She shot Thomas a dazzling smile through her tears. ‘Nobody knew.’

  So Piotr hadn’t told Ronald that Natalie was more than just his neighbour. Unless Ronald had lied to me.

  Another girl came into the storage area and rummaged through the clothes on the rail. She was a brunette version of Natalie, and equally impeccably groomed, down to her French-manicured nails. She shot Natalie a look and lingered until she noticed I was staring at her, then she quickly took a dress and left.

  ‘You and Piotr saw each other a lot?’Thomas asked when the door had closed again.

  ‘Not really. And only here.’

  ‘Here?’ I looked around me at the small storage room. Not the greatest place even for quick sex.

  ‘At work, I mean. Never at home. I’d text him and he’d come down.’

  ‘But you live with Koen,’ Thomas said.

  ‘He’s my fiancé.’ Natalie turned to rearrange the dresses, spreading them out to fill the gap that the removed one had left behind. ‘We got engaged last month.’ She showed the band on her left hand.

  ‘And he found out about Piotr?’ I pointed at the black eye. ‘Is that what happened?’

  ‘No, Koen doesn’t know.’ Natalie held her hand against the bruise. ‘This was just an accident. I bumped into a kitchen cupboard.’ She straightened the plastic around two dresses. ‘Please don’t tell him. I love Koen. Piotr … well, he was just a security guard.’ Finally happy that all the dresses were correctly draped again, she moved back to her position against the desk.

  I pushed my fingers against the outside corners of my eyes to stop the sudden throbbing. ‘Just a security guard?’

  ‘It was purely physical. I liked him, we had a good time, but I wasn’t in love with him or anything.’

  ‘I need u now, you texted him two days ago.’ I heard the tension in my own voice and took a deep breath. I caught Thomas watching me. But I remembered Piotr
’s smile and how it had transformed his intense face, I remembered trying desperately to keep him alive, and now this woman who had been sleeping with him didn’t care in the slightest. Sure, she’d shed a couple of tears, but all she was worried about was her fiancé finding out.

  Natalie got her handbag from underneath the desk and took out a tissue. ‘To be honest, the texting was the best bit. It can get quite boring here.’

  I couldn’t control an unprofessional surprised laugh at her callousness. ‘He was killed last night.’ I heard the sarcastic edge in my voice. ‘He might just have been a bit of fun for you, and not as important as the fiancé who got you that ring, but this man has died.’

  Thomas frowned at me.

  ‘I know,’ Natalie said. ‘That’s why I’m being so honest with you. I would never have left Koen for him. Koen is everything to me. Piotr was cute. I got carried away.’ She shook her head. ‘If I think about what I was risking, it was stupid. Luckily nobody knows.’

  I swallowed down my annoyance. I had to keep my personal issues out of this.

  ‘These things are never easy,’ Thomas said. ‘Being honest is definitely the best thing right now.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. I know it was wrong to … well, you know, to have sex with Piotr,’ she whispered the last few words as if they were embarrassing to her, ‘but he was so funny, and always full of life. He looked at me with his grey eyes and I couldn’t help myself. He had this smile and it changed his face. But even when I was with him, I thought of Koen and felt guilty. It only happened a couple of times.’

  ‘How long had this been going on?’

  ‘A few months maybe?’

  That didn’t sound like ‘a couple of times’ to me, but I didn’t say anything. The texts we’d found from Natalie on his phone were recent. He must have deleted the earlier ones. Maybe he’d deleted messages from other people too. ‘Do you know this woman?’ I showed her the photo of the girl in the floral dress.