DeKok formulated a mental picture. Try as he might, he couldn't place the murder in it. It was like one of those photographic jigsaws. He almost gave himself a headache, but he knew there was vital information missing. He needed to proceed until he found the cornerstone pieces of the puzzle.
He glanced at Vledder, who was busy at his keyboard. DeKok knew Vledder had created a number of subroutines that allowed him to spit out reports at any stage of an investigation they were conducting. He could also delete items from a final report and still have the report accepted as complete, up-to-date information. DeKok had no notion how Vledder accomplished this and could not care less. All he knew was it worked. From the time he began to work with Vledder, he never had to produce another laborious handwritten report. His superiors had eventually ordered the removal of the computer terminal from DeKok's desk. He refused to use it. The day the technician installed his computer and removed his battered mechanical typewriter, he began turning in handwritten reports. With the typewriter the department had reached the limit of DeKok's willingness to accept modernization.
"Tomorrow morning," said DeKok, "I'd like you to check with vice at headquarters. See if they have anything on Robert Achterberg."
Vledder nodded. He did not find the request strange. Although Warmoes Street Station was located on the edge of the red-light district, it did not have a vice squad.
"I'll do it," he said. He touched a key and the image instantly disappeared from his screen. "But to tell you the truth," he continued, "I've lost my appetite for this case."
DeKok looked surprised.
"How's that?"
Vledder moodily shrugged his shoulders.
"There's nothing lost."
"You mean that it's justified that Robert Achterberg has been murdered?"
Vledder nodded.
"At first we had no idea who he was, but now he turns out to be a filthy child pornographer. Whoever killed him probably did the world a favor."
DeKok gave him a long, hard look.
"So you only want to give it your all if the victim is sympathetic?"
It sounded sarcastic and was meant to be.
"You know very well what I mean."
DeKok shook his head resolutely.
"No, I don't know what you mean," he reacted icily. "It should make no difference. A human being is a human being. Once, against an angry mob, I defended a man who murdered a four-year-old girl. I put my life on the line because they would have surely lynched him. Believe me, I did not defend him out of misguided sympathy."
Vledder shook his head, not willing to concede a point.
"Robert Achterberg," he said firmly, "was up to his neck in a vicious, nasty business. Regardless of how he became involved, he came in contact with equally nasty, vicious people. The least he risked was a bullet to the head."
DeKok sighed.
"If our society consisted solely of respectable, decent, honorable people, we could do away with the police altogether."
Vledder made an angry gesture.
"Right. We're in no position to judge. We just have the job of always digging around in the crime and filth of others."
DeKok sighed again.
"We do our job; sometimes it gets nasty. But we, you and I, serve society. We are the ones who have the skill and willingness to uphold the law... sometimes reluctantly."
A faint smile appeared on Vledder's face.
"You're right, of course," he said soberly. "But just thinking about the purchase of a young woman really upsets me."
"You mean the purchase of Therese by our collector, Nettelhorst."
"What," asked Vledder, "does a man like Manfred Nettelhorst want with a woman like her?"
"I can think of several reasons," said DeKok.
"I can't. Nettelhorst is a homosexual."
DeKok looked at the clock on the wall. It was past eleven thirty.
"I'm going home," he said listlessly. "I'm exhausted. It's been enough for one day."
Vledder straightened his desk.
"Perhaps you should make one more phone call."
"To whom?"
Vledder pointed at the telephone on his desk.
"Why don't you call the commissaris, before he goes to bed? Perhaps he'll agree to release Antoinette tonight." He grinned. "You'll sleep better."
DeKok looked at his young partner fondly.
"All right, it's worth a try. Why don't you get him for me."
Vledder pulled the phone closer and started to punch out the number. Before he could complete the sequence, there was loud knock on the door. The young inspector replaced the receiver and looked at the door. It opened, and there stood a tall, fashionable gentleman. DeKok estimated him to be in his early fifties. He was dressed in an expensive grey coat, perfectly cut. A black homburg was slightly tilted to one side of his head. He approached their desks in long, athletic strides.
"Your watch commander informed me you were still in the building." His voice was soft but forceful. It had a convincing quality. "Because I felt it urgent, I decided to come and talk with you, despite the late hour." He took off his hat and looked from DeKok to Vledder and back again. "I hope I did not arrive at an inopportune time."
DeKok pointed at the chair next to his desk.
"Please sit down," he said. He had resigned himself to stay.
The man unbuttoned his overcoat and sat down.
"My name is Tombs, Henri Tombs. I'm a real estate broker and I reside at Emperor's Canal 1316. I also have my office there."
Vledder rose from his chair and raised an interrupting hand.
"I'll give Buitendam a call myself," he said in a soft aside.
DeKok nodded and waited until he left the room. Then he turned his attention to the broker.
"I heard your name earlier this evening," he said with a winning smile.
Henri Tonibs seemed surprised.
"Really ...in what context?"
"Maria Goose mentioned it."
A veil seemed to descend in front of the broker's eyes.
"I am sorry. The name is unknown to me."
DeKok smiled.
"I think you know her better by the name Maria de la Fontaine. Maria is the mother of the exquisite Therese."
Tombs nodded slowly.
"A remarkable woman."
"In what way?"
"She prefers the uncertain existence of a, eh, a prostitute over the life of a loved and appreciated spouse in a comfortable domicile on Emperor's Canal."
DeKok narrowed his eyes.
"At the side of Matthias Heusden?"
"Certainly. An elegant man of refined tastes."
"You keep in contact with him?"
Henri Tombs shook his head.
"Not anymore. When Everet was still alive..." Suddenly he became silent. His face assumed a strange, almost mystic expression. For a long time he stared dreamily at nothing. He continued in a different, firmer tone of voice.
"Everet is my son, he was my only son. My wife died, and he was all I had left. The revolting behavior of a drunk driver cost him his life. He was young and vital. He had a great future ahead of him. He was so happy at the prospect of having the virginal Therese at his side." He gave DeKok a penetrating look. "Do you believe in predestination, total submission to a plan greater than our own, Mr. DeKok?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "Everet and Therese were created for each other. They were destined for a firm bond in lasting marriage. I believe their marriage was ordained by God, perhaps strengthened by His blessings."
I)eKok blinked. With everything in him, he tried to follow the thread of the broker's thoughts.
"You mean," he said hesitantly, "that Therese and Everet were in fact already married?"
Henri Tombs nodded.
"They were predestined for each other. That decision had been made a long time ago for them, in Heaven. The fiat from God was already in place. The only thing still lacking was the earthly consummation."
"But that never happened
?"
The broker reacted vehemently. He raised both hands as though beseeching heavenly intervention.
"That will come," he said with certainty. "Everet's death does not change anything."
lleKok licked his dry lips.
"I don't quite understand," he said carefully. "With Everet's death, consummation became impossible. There can be no question of an earthly marriage."
Henri's face became a steel mask.
"Is God's will to be ignored?"
I)eKok did not answer. There was a slight tingling in the tips of his fingers. He wanted to change the subject. He avoided religious discussions. Religion was a subject he did not like to pursue. He felt he lacked both the knowledge and the eloquence to discuss it intelligently.
The broker leaned closer.
"Is God's will to be ignored?" he repeated.
The grey sleuth remained pointedly silent. He let his gaze wander over the face of the broker. He evaluated the man's features, the lines around the mouth, the slightly pointed nose, the high cheekbones. He saw the contradictions in Tombs' face. The expression was mild, but it was the face of a fanatic. He'd never encountered the combination. Mildness and fanaticism-the two did not go together.
DeKok stretched out a hand and barely brushed the tips of his fingers against a grey waistcoat with motherof-pearl buttons.
"You came here," he said patiently, "because of something you thought to be very important."
"Certainly."
DeKok smiled agreeably.
"And you have already mentioned that?"
Henri Tombs shook his head. The expression on his face changed instantly. He appeared to slowly, systematically return to reality. He looked candidly at DeKok.
"Have you received a report about a missing person today?"
"Who's supposed to be missing?"
"Therese de la Fontaine."
"No."
The broker leaned back in his chair.
"I think a report like that will still come. Somebody will notice she's missing. To save you the trouble of a widespread search, I came to tell you I have hidden her somewhere."
"Where?"
For the first time since he had arrived, there was a hint of a smile on the broker's face.
"That I cannot reveal."
lleKok feigned surprise.
"Why not?"
Henri Tombs made an apologetic gesture.
"Because I promised her explicitly. She is not available to anybody."
"That is a problem," said lleKok evenly. "I would like to interview her."
Tombs shrugged his shoulders.
"You can tell me your questions," he said in a businesslike tone. "I will present them to Therese and you will hear her answers from me."
DeKok shook his head.
"I don't work that way. It would be meaningless. I must see the reactions of the people I interview. It's important for my work. I often experience and retain unspoken answers."
Henri Tombs smiled again, a friendly, winning smile. The strange contradictory fanaticism had disappeared completely.
"I do understand your point if view," he said pleasantly. "My business involves negotiation; it is much the same process." He paused a moment. "Therese needs peace of mind. For the time being, she should not have to confront more unpleasant facts of life."
DeKok nodded his understanding.
"So I'm such an unpleasant fact of life?"
Henri Tombs shook his head.
"No, it is what you represent."
"Justice?"
"Do you really feel," asked the broker, "you represent justice?"
I)eKok did not answer. Pensively he rubbed a flat hand over his face. It made little sense, he thought, to insist on an interview with Therese.
"Why have you hidden her?"
Tombs gestured vaguely.
"Because she asked me to."
"When?"
"Last night. It was about two o' clock in the morning when the bell rang. I have a surveillance system in my house and saw Therese in front of the door with a suitcase in her hand. I put on a robe and hurried downstairs. Therese was very distressed. She was crying. She asked if she could stay with me. I took her into the living room and we talked. I told her it would be better if she did not stay with me at Emperor's Canal. I pointed out we both have our reputations to consider. She understood. I dressed, and we left in my car. As a real estate broker I often manage several vacant properties."
DeKok nodded slowly.
"Why was she so upset?"
"She was afraid."
"Of what?"
"She fears she will be murdered."
10
A few minutes after the broker left, Vledder returned to the detective room. His young face lit up with pleasure.
"She's gone," he said cheerfully.
DeKok was momentarily at a loss.
"Who?"
"Antoinette Graaf."
The news elicited a smile.
"Buitendam gave permission?"
Vledder nodded.
"The commissaris was very friendly. He came close to gushing. He behaved as if he had to make up for something, as if he regretted his actions. He said the two of you would discuss Nettelhorst tomorrow."
DeKok did not look impressed.
"Antoinette released," he said with a deep sigh. "What a relief." He looked up at Vledder. "Did she say anything?"
Vledder shook his head.
"Nothing about the murder, nothing we did not already know. She did say she'd had time to think while she was locked up. She came to the conclusion that her Robert was a dear boy."
DeKok gave him a penetrating look.
"Did you tell her about the pornography?"
"No, I thought about it. But it didn't seem prudent, in light of her perception. She has only sweet memories of her Robert."
DeKok smiled.
"You could have been my son," he praised.
Vledder shrugged shyly at the compliment.
"You have given me a compassionate role model. That's why I personally drove her home. The quarter is no place for a defenseless Antoinette at this time of night."
"You took her to Beuning Street?"
Vledder nodded.
"To our mutual surprise there was a new lock on the door."
"Squatters?"
The young inspector laughed.
"No, not yet, anyway. Upon investigation it turned out the neighbor had arranged for a new lock to be installed."
"The same neighbor who discovered the body?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Antoinette's room could no longer be adequately locked. The neighbor had seen strange people walking in and out. While he was investigating, he ran into Antoinette's brother. The brother, Marius, claimed he only came by to see whether Antoinette had been released. The neighbor did not like the looks of Marius."
DeKok grinned.
"So he put a new lock on the door?"
"He gave the key to Antoinette when we got there," nodded Vledder. "The first thing she did was clean up the traces of blood on the radiator. And she complained about the mess Kruger made with his powder." He fell silent and, yawning, he looked at the clock on the wall. It was close to two o'clock in the morning. "What do you think, DeKok, should we go home?"
To his surprise the older man did not respond, he seemed not to hear him. He stared into the distance, many miles away.
"Are we going home?" repeated Vledder.
DeKok looked at him, glassy eyed.
"Did you check with Lijnbaansgracht Station about the theft at Arti et Amicitiae? Did you find out how it was accomplished?"
Vledder nodded.
"Toward the end of the exposition, just before closing time, a masked man entered the main hall. He walked in a straight line to the ewer, lifted it from the pedestal, and disappeared."
"Nobody stopped him?"
Vledder shook his head.
"The exhibition was closing down; only a few people rem
ained. Most were on their way home."
DeKok's eyebrows rippled briefly.
"But there were guards. I distinctly remember the one who tried to stop us in the lobby."
"He was there, but someone struck him with a blunt instrument, perhaps a lead pipe. Despite the blow he was back on his feet in seconds. He managed to stagger to the front door in time to see two individuals get away. From his account, the two fled the scene on a motorcycle. The bike roared off in the direction of the Rokin."
"What about the other guards?"
"They were spread out over the building, checking doors and windows, preparatory to locking up."
"The perpetrators left no trace behind?"
Vledder shook his head.
"No. The word is out to the authorities and the press. The insurance company is offering a large reward for the recovery of the ewer."
DeKok looked pensively at the tips of his fingers.
"We're looking for a motorcyclist?"
"Yes."
Suddenly the old man sprang into action. He stood up, snatched his coat and hat off the floor, and ran for the exit. Vledder laughed. DeKok at speed was a comical sight, putting on his coat at a gallop.
Vledder caught up with hint in the corridor.
"Where are we going?"
"Marnix Quay."
"Why?"
"Marius Graaf lives there."
"And?"
DeKok did not answer. He ran down the stairs.
Vledder ran after him.
Amsterdam was draped in a mantle of grey. The late afternoon drizzle had become a thick, nearly impenetrable fog. It was difficult to see more than a few paces ahead. Viedder felt his way carefully, with a flashing blue light on the roof and big yellow fog lights in front of the car. The wall of fog constricted around the ancient VW.
DeKok and the Dead Lovers (Inspector DeKok Investigates) Page 7