DeKok was slumped down in the seat, totally at ease, unaffected by Vledder's tension. He relaxed and thought. He had not spoken a word since they left the station. He had a theory, the result of a wild set of associations, and he hoped to prove his hypothesis.
Vledder parked up against the bushes near the Marnix Garden. He walked with DeKok toward the houses along the quay. It was quiet. The vapors from the canal added density to the fog. Great rolling cloud banks drifted across the road from Inner Singel Canal, silently colliding with the houses.
The two inspectors looked at house numbers with a flashlight. They progressed slowly. DeKok ambled along and Vledder marched. The farther they progressed, the quieter it became. The grey murk even muffled the sounds of their footsteps.
DeKok stopped in front of number 859. On the doorjam a confusing jumble of bell pushes had been installed. Both inspectors were familiar with the phenomenon. Many individuals and multiple families lived in these large old houses. Occupants would rent a floor, part of a floor, even a single room. Each rented space had its own bell. There were no name cards next to the bells, just a few cryptic scribbles or symbols.
1)eKok took a few steps back and looked up at the building. He could barely see the sills of the windows on the second floor.
"It's worse than London," he growled.
Vledder came to stand next to him.
"Is this it?"
DeKok nodded.
"As far as I know, he has his rooms on the third floor, but I cannot see a light."
"Then we ring the bell."
DeKok grinned.
"Which bell? We could wake up the entire building. Besides, I like surprises. I doubt Marius will welcome our visit."
He took Handle Henkie's ingenious instrument from his pocket and approached the front door. Within seconds the lock succumbed. With a flashlight in his right hand, he began to climb the stairs. The wooden stairs creaked under the two-hundred-pound DeKok as he laboriously climbed them.
Vledder followed meekly. His annoyance with DeKok's secretive behavior was replaced by curiosity. Experience spanning many years had taught him genuine respect for his partner's resourcefulness. DeKok always seemed to keep a quiver of arrows in reserve. He could shoot them at the most unexpected nionients with uncanny accuracy.
When they reached the corridor on the second floor, DeKok halted and took a number of deep breaths. He shook his head as if to dismiss his fatigue and tackled the next staircase. He looked up. It was as if he were advancing into a black canyon. Elongated ovals of light from his flashlight danced in front of him.
When they reached the third floor, he placed his ear against a door. He could not hear anything. He quickly let his flashlight roam along the corridor. Satisfied he had the right door, he again produced Henkie's instrument. By the light of the flashlight he studied the lock and adjusted the settings on the small brass instrument. The old door lock offered no resistance. DeKok had perfected his professional skills over many years.
He quietly popped the lock and looked over his shoulder. Much to his surprise, Vledder wasn't objecting to his breaking and entering.
DeKok pressed down on the knob, opening the door carefully. He and Vledder stepped into a small kitchen. A tap dripped slowly into a small tub of dirty laundry.
They reached a sparsely furnished living room. There was an old sofa and a round table. The veneer had peeled, leaving bare wood.
A small room in the rear of the unit contained two dirty mattresses on a bare floor. Blankets and dirty sheets were heaped in a corner.
Nobody was at home.
DeKok walked back into the living room. Behind the dilapidated sofa there was a tall wardrobe.
He walked over and opened up one of the cabinet doors. DeKok saw what he had hoped to find. It stood between some beer glasses and rough earthenware mugs. He steadied the beam of his flashlight, focusing on the object.
Vledder inhaled sharply behind him.
"The silver ewer."
Finally settled back in at the station house, Vledder looked at his colleague with admiration.
"How did you know?"
DeKok leaned back in his desk chair with an expression of complete satisfaction. He stared at the magnificently crafted silver ewer on the desk in front of him.
"How did you know?" repeated Vledder impatiently.
DeKok shook his head.
"I had a suspicion," he explained. "Other factors, such as timing, played a role. It occurred to me the time of the theft at Arti et Amicitiae corresponded closely to Marius' visit with Antoinette. Both occurred the same night. Later Marius came to the station to find out whether we had his sister in custody. During our conversation he admitted to stealing a set of handcuffs. He said he'd stolen things before and had temporarily stashed stolen items with his sister."
"But that's just coincidence."
"Certainly. Sometimes coincidence can lead to intuition."
"Oh, very well, go on."
"Marius was dressed in motorcycle gear that night. I tried to reach him the next day to let him know I could not keep my word to release his sister. The constable who tried to make the call for me discovered Marius did not have a telephone."
Vledder smiled. DeKok would do anything to avoid using a telephone.
"So how did you find his address?"
"I went into the attic and started to search for previous warrants issued against him."
"I could have found his arrests and warrants for you instantly, using the computer," objected Vledder.
DeKok did not welcome the interruption.
"Never mind, I found everything I needed. He favored and was accused of using a motorcycle in his robberies."
Vledder's eyes glistened.
"And when I told you the thief at Arti et Amicitiae got away on a motorcycle, you immediately made the connection. As far as you were concerned, the case was solved."
DeKok made a deprecating gesture.
"I was not all that sure of my facts. Whether or not Marius intended to store the ewer with his sister, he could not. Once Antoinette was in custody for Robert's murder, he had to look for another hiding place. He could have found a secure hiding place for the object anywhere. His accomplice might have kept the article somewhere safe."
"The masked man!"
"Exactly."
Vledder looked at the ewer with satisfaction. His countenance soon changed.
"How do we explain our illegal presence in Graaf's rooms?"
DeKok pulled out his lower lip and let it plop back. He repeated the unattractive gesture several times. Then he grinned suddenly.
"We'll have to put our efforts into convincing everybody how careless our young man Marius is." He laughed boyishly. "He's so careless, he constantly forgets to lock his doors."
Vledder laughed. He leaned forward and admired the artistic depictions on the side of the ewer. After a while, he looked up.
"Do we get the reward promised by the insurance company?"
DeKok shook his head.
"That kind of reward," he said sternly, "does not apply to the police. After all, it's our job to recover stolen items. We get paid to do it."
"Too bad."
"Perhaps."
Vledder pointed at the ewer.
"What do we do with the thing? I don't think we want to display it in the detective room. Anyone could walk in there tonight."
DeKok looked thoughtful.
"My inclination is to lock it in the safe at headquarters. Lately, though, some items have mysteriously disappeared from that safe." He paused. "I think for tonight I'll just take it home and keep it on my bedside table."
"Should we call the commissaris out of bed?" asked Vledder in gleeful anticipation. "After all, he will want to share this triumph of police work. I'm sure he would like to be woken up."
DeKok gave his young colleague a disapproving look.
"You have a sadistic streak. No, what I would like you to do is to call the commissaris in the morning. Ask him if he would b
e so kind as to summon Nettelhorst to his office around ten o'clock. That's all. Say nothing else."
Vledder grinned.
"You want to surprise Nettelhorst?"
The grey sleuth nodded slowly. His face changed to a cool, expressionless mask. He pointed a hand at Vledder.
"Yes. I have a surprise... bigger than he thinks."
11
When DeKok arrived at home, he found his wife in a nightgown, reading by an open fire in the living room.
"You're late," she said, closing her book. "I'll get you a cup of tea. It will help you sleep."
DeKok nodded languidly. He had a disinterested look. His wife turned to see him place the silver ewer on the table. Mrs. DeKok looked at it in wonderment.
"Is this my surprise?"
Her husband looked a bit glassy eyed.
"Surprise?" he exclaimed.
She nodded.
"My St. Nicholas surprise."
It took several long seconds. Then DeKok slapped both hands in front of his face. His tiredness fell away. He fell backward into an easy chair and laughed out loud.
"A surprise," he roared. "This St. Nicholas surprise cost a million and a half. It isn't the usual present from an underpaid public servant without prospects."
She looked at hint with a puzzled look. Her right hand pointed hesitantly at the ewer.
"You brought home a vase worth one and a half million guilders? I mean, euros?"
DeKok nodded. His face was still highly amused.
"Yes. It is a valuable object d'art."
Silently she put her book on the table and went to the kitchen. Within a short time she returned with a cup of steaming tea and placed it in front of her husband.
"It's not worth one and a half million to me."
lleKok gave her a tender look.
"You are worth that to me...and more."
After a few hours of sleep and a solid breakfast, lleKok ambled his way from the streetcar toward the station house. A paper bag from a supermarket dangled from one hand. Inside the bag, protected by crumpled newspapers, was the ewer. It was an exquisite example of the silversmith's art crafted in the glorious seventeenth century by one Paulus van Vianen.
The grey sleuth looked around at the other people in the streets. With a certain irony he wondered how they would react if they knew he carried a fortune around in a paper shopping bag.
It was just nine-thirty when he entered the station house. If Nettelhorst was on time, he had about half an hour to fill. He wondered whether he should walk around a little longer. But with the treasure in his hand, he decided to go straight to his office.
As he entered the detective room, he saw a red-faced Vledder behind his computer.
"Busy?" he asked as he hung up his coat and hat.
The young inspector rested his fingers.
"I've no choice. If I don't get everything in the computer, who will?" he asked rhetorically. "You don't even make notes anymore, not that I would be able to read them."
DeKok smiled.
"Why don't you recover my old Olivetti and I'll do better."
"That relic," snorted Vledder. "It's long since been melted down and recycled."
"Oh, well," sighed DeKok, and sat down behind his desk.
Vledder spoke up before he could settle in.
"The commissaris wants to see you as soon as possible."
DeKok looked at the clock on the wall to verify the time.
"It's not ten o'clock yet," he protested.
His colleague shrugged.
"He said he wanted to talk to you before Nettelhorst came in.
DeKok nodded, hoisted himself out of his chair, and pointed at the paper bag.
"Keep an eye on it, will you?"
"What is it?"
"The silver ewer."
Vledder grinned.
"Couldn't you find more appropriate packaging?"
DeKok did not react. He shuffled out of the room toward the end of the corridor. He reached the office of the commissaris, stopping at the door to take a deep breath. He knocked and entered without waiting for an answer.
Buitendain rose from his chair. His narrow, ascetic face had a mild expression. He pointed to a chair with a long, slender hand.
"Please, sit down, I)eKok," he said in an almost friendly voice. "I've followed up on your request. I presume you have a compelling reason to summon Manfred Nettelhorst."
lleKok sat down.
"I have," he said.
The commissaris sat down in turn and spread out both hands.
"And don't you find it necessary to acquaint us with the reason? I asked Vledder, but he said he did not know the reason for your request."
"Because he doesn't know," lied DeKok.
Commissaris Buitendam coughed discreetly.
"I do not want," he said, changing the subject, "the interview with Mr. Nettelhorst to become, eh, as spontaneous as the last one. First I would like to clear up some misunderstandings. I've known Manfred Nettelhorst a long time and I assure you he's not an ogre. His unpleasant behavior the night of the exhibition was not typical. Manfred is a serious, sometimes fanatical collector of art. He allows nothing to stand in the way of acquiring a piece he desires. He has a special bond with his possessions. They hold some incomprehensible significance. I sometimes feel his treasures become a part of him, of his soul. In the eyes of honest, serious police inspectors like us, it is incomprehensible. It is difficult to imagine a material object inspiring such an affinity."
DeKok smiled.
"Would we understand if living objects were to become part of his inner self, his soul?"
Buitendam looked baffled.
"I don't understand."
The aged inspector grinned evilly.
"Manfred Nettelhorst has purchased a truly beautiful young woman, a Therese de la Fontaine. Oh yes, she is a real flesh-and-blood acquisition."
Buitendam frowned.
"Purchased?" he asked, disbelief in his voice.
DeKok nodded.
"In light of the fact Nettelhorst is a homosexual, I was wondering how to assess this particular acquisition. Perhaps Nettelhorst views her as he does his other possessions, with an affinity, an involvement deeper than the bare possession?"
His voice dripped with sarcasm.
Buitendam actually blushed.
"Who is Therese de la Fontaine?"
"A young photographer's model, apparently extremely attractive." He paused a moment for effect. "She may also be the direct cause of Robert Achterberg's death."
Buitendam narrowed his eyes.
"Are you insinuating," he said with a hint of menace in his voice, "that Manfred Nettelhorst has something to do with that murder?"
DeKok shook his head.
"It's not an insinuation," he said calmly. "It is an official notice. I am obliged to consider it a possibility, especially in light of the noxious behavior I witnessed at Arti et Amicitiae. You were good enough to summarize the values underlying the behavior."
The face of the commissaris turned a deep red. His nostrils quivered. With a gesture of barely controlled rage he pointed at the door.
DeKok stood up, looking resigned. Before Buitendam could say anything, there was a knock on the door. The grey sleuth turned away from the conunissaris to see Manfred Nettelhorst standing in the door opening.
The squat art collector approached the commissaris with short, decisive steps and shook him by the hand. He allowed only a condescending nod in the direction of DeKok.
"You have news?" he asked of Buitendam.
The anger was still visible on Buitendam's face. A bit wild, he gestured in DeKok's direction.
"My inspector has news," he said bitingly. "At least that's what he claims. You're here at his request."
Nettelhorst turned toward DeKok.
"You have news?" he asked coolly, with just a hint of skepticism in his voice.
The grey sleuth nodded.
"Robert Achterberg is dead."
It was just a mad impulse.
Manfred Nettelhorst looked from DeKok to Buitendam and back again.
"And?"
DeKok noticed no reactions. He gave a bit of an embarrassed smile.
"I just wanted to tell you." He made an awkward bow. "If you'll excuse me for a moment."
He left the room and ambled toward Vledder's desk. Calmly he retrieved the silver ewer from among the crumpled newspapers. Then, holding the ewer by its handle, he ambled back to Buitendam's office. With a glow of triumph in his eyes, he reentered the room and, holding the ewer in front of him, approached the desk.
Utterly astonished, the commissaris sank back in his chair.
Nettelhorst's mouth flopped open. Confused, he stared at the ewer. His eyes were wide, but they seemed to shrink behind his rounded cheeks. With small, pudgy hands he made defensive gestures.
"No...no," he stammered. "That, why, that's impossible. That's impossible. It is...it cannot be. That..."
He repeated himself like an echo.
Vledder pushed away his keyboard.
"Was Nettelhorst happy?"
DeKok did not answer at once. He picked up the paper bag, crumpled it and the newspapers into a ball, and threw it in the trash.
"Happy with the return of his ewer, you mean?"
"Of course."
DeKok grimaced.
"For a moment I thought Nettelhorst would have a myocardial infarction. Finally I just put the ewer on Buitendam's desk. I was afraid to put it in Manfred's hands. He might have dropped it."
Vledder was amazed.
"No compliment? No thanks?"
lleKok shook his head.
"Nothing, neither from Buitendam nor from Nettelhorst. They did not ask any questions. Neither asked who came by the object. For that matter, they didn't even ask when or how we found it. They sat silent, too bowled over to say anything." He shrugged his shoulders. "I stayed to look at them for a while, then I left."
"Strange."
DeKok nodded.
"Indeed. Nettelhorst's initial reaction was singular. When I entered the room, he looked as if I had something monstrous in my hands, something he feared."
"You think so?"
lleKok made a vague gesture.
"We don't know the background of the piece. Perhaps it is a magic ewer, an Aladdin's lamp." He grinned. "Maybe there's a curse on it." The grin faded from his countenance. "One thing is certain. Nettelhorst never expected to see his ewer again."
DeKok and the Dead Lovers (Inspector DeKok Investigates) Page 8