DeKok and the Dead Lovers (Inspector DeKok Investigates)

by A. C. Baantjer

  DeKok nodded with greedy eyes.

  "You can't even read the label," objected Vledder.

  Lowee looked with affection at the almost faded label.

  "Never youse mind," he said with almost a snarl. "It's from a small vineyard in the Grand Champagne region of Cognac. They make the best cognac in the world." His underworld accent had miraculously disappeared. "Fifty years in the cask, think of it!"

  Vledder could not let it go.

  "I've seen cognac that's older," he snorted.

  "Oh, yeah. Bottled cognac, I'm sure."

  "Certainly."

  "Well, young man," began Lowee in perfect Dutch, "let me tell you something about cognac. Cognac ages only fifty to fifty-five years in the cask. After that time it simply does not improve anymore. In the bottle, cognac ages and improves very little, if at all. A hundred years in the bottle does not give you as good a cognac as just ten years in the cask. This bottle," he stroked the bottle tenderly, "is some of the finest cognac you'll ever taste."

  DeKok was happily surprised to hear Lowee speak without his heavy accent, but his mouth watered at the talk of cognac.

  "I know, Lowee, I know. Please pour. You've tortured me enough."

  "Sorry," said Lowee as he took a corkscrew and went to work on the bottle.

  Both Vledder and DeKok became immediately aware of the aroma that emanated as soon as the cork was removed.

  Lowee reverently poured large measures in the three snifters and handed one each to Vledder and DeKok. He picked up the last one himself and put his nose in the glass. DeKok did the same, and after a long sniff he raised his head, tears in his eyes.

  "Lowee," he said with admiration in his voice, "you've outdone yourself."

  He took a sip and savored the taste. Slowly he allowed the liquid to find its way down his throat. A look of total bliss appeared on his face. He took a second, slightly larger sip; bliss turned to ecstasy. He cautiously placed the glass back on the counter.

  "Lowee," he panted, "words fail me."

  A happy grin spread about Lowee's mousy face.

  "I knowed youse 'da like it."

  Vledder blinked, as astonished with the drink as with Lowee's sudden switch from perfect Dutch to his usual thieves' language.

  Silently and slowly, the three men drained their glasses. When Lowee prepared to refill them, DeKok stopped him with a gesture.

  "No, Lowee, save it for another occasion. One glass of this nectar is enough. But please, put the bottle in a safe place. I wouldn't want anything to happen to it."

  Lowee stopped the bottle with a fresh cork and placed it under the counter.

  When he stood up again, DeKok looked at him thoughtfully.

  "Your cognac," he said earnestly, "almost made me forget I wanted to ask you a question."

  "Das okay, lemine see wad I can do."

  "I'm looking for a woman."

  "I get all sorts a dames. Gotta gimme more."

  "She's in the business."

  "Godda name?"

  "Maria, Maria de la Fontaine."

  Lowee's eyes were small and deep set, his features narrow. His prominent front teeth protruded over a sharp chin, giving him the look of a small rodent. When he wrinkled his nose, the effect was uncanny.

  "Who?"

  "Maria de la Fontaine," repeated DeKok.

  Lowee's face changed again. Suddenly he burst out laughing.

  "Dat's Mother Goose," he roared.

  DeKok looked nonplussed.

  "Who's Mother Goose?"

  "Maria de la Fontaine."

  "How did she get the nickname?"

  Lowee made a denying gesture.

  "No, no, dat's her real moniker. Maria Goose." He leaned confidentially on the bar. "Maria Goose usta work the Sea Dike inna place of One-Eyed Rita. Then she got knocked up. Chased johns 'til she was seven months. Dint hurt 'er business any. In them days, Maria were a knockout. Anyways, da kid was a real knockout offa kid. Maria called da kid Trees, after her mother."

  DeKok nodded. Trees (pronounced trace) is a common diminutive in Holland, short for the name Gertrude.

  "Go on."

  "When da kid growed up, people called her Trees of Mother Goose." He looked at DeKok with a question in his eyes. "Somethin' gettin' through?"

  "Yes, of course. Trees became Therese."

  Lowee grinned.

  "You got it. Baby Trees gets work assa model, and she don' think Goose is real classy. So she changes it to de la Fontaine, youse know, after some Frenchy. Da guy writes fairy tales. In da quarter we knows Therese de la Fontaine is another fairy tale. Goddit?"

  DeKok nodded agreement. He rubbed his face with a flat hand and laughed.

  "Maria, Mother Goose, did she ever use the name de la Fontaine?"

  Little Lowee shook his head.

  "Da hubby wants her to, but Maria don' go for that kinda stuff." He looked at DeKok. "Wadda youse wanner for?"

  "Murder."

  The small barkeeper pulled a face.

  "Murder? Nasty business."

  DeKok nodded.

  "A young man was killed on Beuning Street. He was about twenty-five years old. We think his name is Robert Achterberg. There are some rumors-"

  Lowee interrupted.

  "Robert Achterberg?"

  "Yes."

  "A photo clicker... soft egg?"

  DeKok made a hesitating gesture.

  "He did appear to be weak, or maybe just frightened," he admitted.

  Lowee lifted his chin.

  "Then you godda right guy."

  "You know him?"

  Little Lowee nodded slowly.

  "Yeah. He made a killin' hisself...kiddie porn."

  8

  Little Lowee waved a cheery farewell as the inspectors left the cozy warmth of his establishment. It rained a cold, penetrating drizzle. The elms along the canals dripped steadily. Sparse light from the old-fashioned streetlamps shone on the cobblestone pavement. Clouds of grey vapor wafted across the water of the canals.

  Despite the depressing weather, it was busy in the quarter. Nothing seemed to dampen the erotic drives of the city's visitors. Prostitutes stayed busy. Men lined up in queues several doors down, waiting turns for the prostitutes of their choice. The men tried to look disinterested. They chatted with each other and smoked cigarettes. They might have been waiting in line for soccer tickets.

  DeKok saw them, but he did not notice them. They were part of the scene in the district. He pulled up his collar and pressed his hat deeper over his forehead. The revelations of the little barkeeper, he felt, had given his research a new impetus. He worried simultaneously about how to convince Commissaris Buitendam to release Antoinette Graaf. He had strong convictions; every minute the innocent young woman spent in custody increased his sense of guilt.

  Vledder interrupted his thoughts.

  "Is porn enough motive for you?"

  DeKok laughed.

  "Are you implying," he asked, "that his alleged involvement in producing or selling pornography was a motive for his death?"

  "Is that so strange?"

  DeKok shook his head.

  "No. It is one possibility, but unlikely in Amsterdam. Look around you. If involvement in the porn trade were a motive for murder, half the quarter would be dead. We should keep in mind that Robert was convinced the attempts on his life were prompted by his love for Therese."

  Vledder nodded.

  "The question is, how to prove it? How were the two connected, really? Perhaps Therese was more than just a love interest. Perhaps she was also his partner and his model. It would explain why Therese fled from her home after Robert's murder."

  lleKok whistled briefly.

  "Afraid of the same fate?"

  The young inspector enthusiastically waved both arms.

  "Exactly," he said excitedly. "Fear, the same fear that Robert felt. She must have known about the attempts on his life. Robert must have discussed that with her. It's possible that both knew who was making the thre
ats."

  DeKok scratched his neck, deep in thought. He had to adjust to Vledder's enthusiasm. It wouldn't be the first time his young partner had convinced himself a theory was true, based on pure zeal.

  "Perhaps," he said at last, hesitating. "The lovely Therese fled her house last night, a few hours after Robert's murder. Did she flee because of fear, shocked over his violent death? It could be. If so, however, a compelling question arises: How did she know?"

  "You mean how did she know the attempt on Robert was successful?"

  "Yes."

  Vledder stopped.

  "Perhaps she is the killer."

  The grey sleuth did not answer. He ambled along at his own sweet pace. With a few paces, Vledder overtook him. They walked along Rear Fort Canal, through Old Acquaintance Alley, toward Old Church Square.

  Vledder looked at DeKok.

  "Don't you think it's possible?" he asked.

  "Therese killed Robert?"

  "Yes."

  "If she is the shooter, what becomes of your theory? Why would Robert's murderer be fearful of sharing his fate?"

  "Um...

  Vledder had nothing further to say.

  DeKok shrugged.

  "It's all speculation," he mused. "A possible partnership, the shadow of a murderer involved in the porn world." He paused for a moment. With a grin he wiped the rain from his face. "You know," he continued, "it's amazing the heights a person can reach by keeping both feet firmly on the ground."

  Vledder glanced aside.

  "Something your old mother used to say?"

  DeKok smiled.

  "You seem to know her."

  From the Old Church they walked through Narrow Church Alley back to Warmoes Street. As they entered the lobby of the station house, Jan Kusters, the current watch commander, beckoned them closer. The tall Brabant native consulted some notes on his desk and then looked up at DeKok.

  "A woman is waiting to see you. She is upstairs, on the bench in the hall. She looks to be in her early forties. She said her name is Maria Goose, I believe. She said she has a connection with the murder of Robert Achterberg...said you would want to see her."

  DeKok nodded.

  "How long has she been waiting?"

  Kusters looked at the large clock on the wall.

  "A good half hour, maybe thirty-five minutes." The watch commander made an apologetic gesture. "I told her you weren't in. Told her she would be better off coming back at a later time. It's difficult not knowing when you guys will be in." His tone became more accusing. "You don't carry a radio and you make Vledder turn his off-"

  Vledder interrupted.

  "Too true," he admitted. "Half the time I don't even wear the thing, I mean, why bother?"

  This time DeKok interrupted. His distaste of modern communication methods was well known. He particularly disliked the constant intrusions. He longed for the days when cops still used call boxes. At least he'd had the option of using the phone or not.

  "Just tell me what she said," demanded DeKok.

  "She said she'd wait. Said she had plenty of time."

  "I do not," growled DeKok. Then he looked at Kusters closely and changed his tone of voice. "If Antoinette Graaf is still awake, why don't you let her relax in the waiting room for a while? Offer her a cigarette or a cup of coffee-whatever."

  The waiting room in Dutch police stations is a peculiar facility. It is indeed a room where people wait. People in the waiting room are not technically under arrest. But nobody ever leaves without official permission. People can smoke, eat, drink, or play cards in the waiting room. Nevertheless, everyone has to wait.

  "Thanks," winked DeKok as he looked around him. Many times he had reflected on the uniqueness of Warmoes Street. There was probably no equivalent anywhere in the world. He turned to Kusters and said, "God will reward you."

  "You hope."

  DeKok shook his head.

  "I know."

  Vledder and DeKok walked up the stairs to the next floor. Waiting on the bench outside the detective room they found a provocatively dressed woman. They stopped at the top of the stairs and DeKok focused his attention on her. She wore a coat draped around her shoulders, offering a fine view of her cleavage. The ample bosom was barely concealed by a low-cut dress. DeKok looked at her face. It was somehow familiar, but he did not think he had ever met her.

  When the woman noticed the men at the top of the stairs, she stood up and walked forward.

  "I'm the mother of Therese de la Fontaine," she said simply.

  DeKok smiled

  "Maria Goose."

  "Yes."

  DeKok politely lifted his hat and bowed stiffly.

  "Very nice to meet you," he said, leading her to the door of the detective room. He opened it and bowed her inside. At his desk, he pulled out a chair and asked her to sit down. Then he threw his raincoat and hat in the direction of the peg-both missed-and walked around the desk to sit down. Vledder walked silently to his own desk and turned on his computer.

  Maria Goose crossed her slender legs and pulled her short dress down a bit, leaving her knees uncovered. She leaned forward.

  "I came to tell you," she said in a husky voice, "I did not do it."

  DeKok feigned surprise.

  "Did not do what?"

  "Put a bullet through that boy's head."

  "Which boy?"

  "Robert Achterberg."

  DeKok leaned slightly back in his chair.

  "But who says you did?"

  She thumbed over her shoulder.

  "My ex-husband."

  "Matthias Heusden?"

  Maria Goose nodded agreement.

  "He called me about an hour ago and advised me to disappear, leave the country."

  "But why?"

  "In fact I should have killed him."

  "However, you did not?"

  She shook her head decisively.

  "I told you already. No, I did not murder him." She moved in her chair, adjusted the top of her dress. "I did threaten it, though. Told him if he kept chasing after my girl I would put a bullet through his head."

  "You had good reason not to like him?" asked I)eKok in an even tone.

  In an emotional gesture Maria extended both hands.

  "I considered the day-to-day relationship my daughter's problem. I didn't have to live with him. Therese was capable of deciding for herself. I had a problem with Robert because he was no good, not for himself or anyone else." She leaned forward. "He was involved with pornography... child pornography. He exploited children hardly aware there are two sexes. He encouraged them to fool around with each other so he could photograph. He used adults now and again, and they certainly knew what they were doing." She looked at I)eKok with revulsion on her face. "You must agree. No mother wants her daughter to associate with a degenerate creep."

  "How do you know about the pornography?" asked lleKok, all business.

  "Therese told me herself."

  "You still have regular contact with your daughter? You keep in touch?"

  "Of course."

  "Did Therese love Robert?"

  Maria Goose leaned back.

  "Ach," she said dejectedly. "Therese is just like she was when she was younger. If a guy pays her any attention, she's flattered."

  DeKok smiled.

  "A lot of men would look at her, I'm afraid. According to what I've heard, Therese is very attractive."

  She nodded.

  "That's true. Therese is a perfect-picture girl, perhaps with a hint of vanity. Robert Achterberg was a big danger to her. He spoke eloquently about a golden future... about connections in America who could take her to the top."

  "The usual lure," said DeKok and stared into the distance. "Did Therese ever pose for pornographic photos?" he asked gently.

  Maria shrugged her shoulders.

  "I can't say for sure. She swore to me she would never do that. But she did show me a series of nude studies, very artistic, that Robert made to show to his connections in the States
."

  "But no hard-core pornography?"

  "No."

  DeKok rubbed his chin.

  "Does Therese have a steady boyfriend?"

  Maria's face fell.

  "I won't discuss that."

  DeKok was taken aback.

  "But why not?"

  "I promised Therese I would never talk about it, not with anybody."

  "And you keep your promises?"

  She nodded with closed eyes.

  "Therese," she said softly, "had a friend, a wonderful boy. She loved him dearly. Last year he died in a car accident. Therese grieved over the loss."

  "What was the name of the boy?"

  "Everet, Everet Tombs. Son of a real estate broker on Emperor's Canal."

  DeKok rubbed the bridge of his nose with his little finger.

  "Surely you no longer feel you must keep silent about Everet Tombs?"

  "Therese did not want to hold on to a secret sorrow anymore.

  "Is she grieving now?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Now that Robert is dead."

  Maria Goose shook her head slowly.

  "I don't think so. She never was in love with Robert Achterberg."

  DeKok glanced at Vledder, who shrugged with a noncommittal look before returning his attention to his keyboard.

  "And yet," said DeKok finally, "she took hint into her house."

  Maria rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. She appeared tired.

  "That wasn't Therese," she said wearily. "That was Matthias."

  DeKok hid his surprise, but his eyes lit up.

  "Why would Matthias Heusden do that?"

  Maria Goose sighed a long, deep sigh.

  "You'd have to ask him." There was despair in her voice. "I don't understand it. I don't understand anything. I don't know why he invited Robert into the house. Usually Matthias guarded Therese like a harem guard."

  "Why? She's a young woman. An adult."

  Maria's face turned red. She spread both arms wide.

  "He sold her!"

  "What?"

  "Matthias sold Therese."

  "How, where, to who..." DeKok was speechless.

  "He sold her to a rich bastard."

  "To whom? Do you know him?"

  Maria Goose nodded with rising disgust.

  "Manfred Nettelhorst."

  9

  Once Maria Goose had swished her way through the door, DeKok leaned both elbows on his desk and thoughtfully bit the tip of his thumb. He silently reviewed all the events related to the case, beginning with the exhibit he and Vledder attended at Arti et Amicitiae. The first person who attracted his attention was Manfred Nettelhorst. DeKok would not soon forget the level of rage Nettelhorst unleashed on the elderly lady he saw touching his priceless ewer. Barely twenty-four hours later, Nettelhorst was reappearing like a fat blip on DeKok's radar. It seemed Nettelhorst had made a strange acquisition. DeKok would have to discover how this event related to the murder of a certain pornographer.