DeKok and the Dead Lovers (Inspector DeKok Investigates)

by A. C. Baantjer

  Vledder looked startled.

  "Why not?"

  lleKok reacted with irritation.

  "Something reeks at Arti et Amicitiae. Something is not right about the burglary; someone contrived the whole thing. Believe me, if I can get the slightest opening, He did not complete the sentence but looked at Vledder. "Have you contacted vice this morning?"

  "Sure."

  "And?"

  Vledder pulled up the report on his computer.

  "Robert Achterberg," he read from the screen. "Age twenty-five, unmarried, photographer by profession, last known address 1418 Laurel Street, his mother's house. Father deceased. Robert Achterberg has never been in contact with the police/justice. We have approximately two anonymous tips alleging he produced pornography, not for local consumption but for export, primarily to the United States. Vice has tried to collect evidence of wrongdoing but has been unsuccessful. He protected himself well, kept changing studios."

  "A shrewd bird."

  Vledder raised a hand and continued reading.

  "That's not all. FBI agents arrived two weeks ago from the US. They brought a load of evidence. The American authorities closed up the porn pipeline from the other side. In short, they were about to arrest Robert Achterberg."

  12

  DeKok sprang up from his chair in one remarkably agile movement. He strode purposefully to the peg where he kept his coat and hat. Vledder followed him.

  "Where are you going?" he asked, perplexed. "It's way too early to visit Lowee's place."

  The old man had obvious difficulties with one of the sleeves of his raincoat.

  "Nothing to do with Lowee," he growled. "I'm going to offer my condolences to a mother for the sad loss of her son."

  "Robert Achterberg's mother?"

  DeKok nodded, finally getting into the reluctant sleeve.

  "I just recalled," he said somberly, "that we've known his identity since last night and we still have not notified that woman. That's reprehensible."

  "We've hardly had the time," grumbled Vledder.

  DeKok airily waved the excuse away.

  "There is always time to pay our respects." He placed his hat square on his head and waved in the direction of the exit. "Glance through the photos we have and find a reasonable likeness... something that doesn't look too horrible."

  "For identification?"

  "Yes. We wouldn't want to accidentally bury the wrong person.

  Vledder walked back to his desk.

  "There's nothing reasonable here. They're all pretty gruesome.

  DeKok held out his hand.

  "Just give them to me. I'll find something suitable. Do you have a lot of writing left to do?"

  "Yes, including a falsified report regarding the supposed recovery of a certain silver ewer from a locked building."

  "Some people," joked DeKok, "are so careless!" He put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Why don't you stay and finish the, eh, the administrative bit. I'll go by myself. Please contact Lijnbaansgracht Station and ask them to issue an APB for Marius Graaf. After all, the art theft is really their case."

  "Which you couldn't keep your nose out of."

  "Tut, tut, a dangling preposition, my boy. That's something up with which I'll not put."

  Vledder laughed and DeKok winked.

  "Maybe you can take some time to figure out why Nettelhorst wasn't at all happy with the recovery of his artifact and what it is I smell!"

  Mrs. Achterberg looked at her visitor with a drawn, ashen face. Her legs were slightly parted and her small hands were folded in her lap.

  "Perhaps you think," she said softly, almost whispering, "I'm an unfeeling woman, but no tears will come. I feel drained of emotion, empty hearted."

  DeKok nodded.

  "I understand," he said.

  She sighed deeply.

  "This may sound strange. I've been waiting for someone, anyone, for days. I hoped somebody would come and tell me what happened."

  DeKok did not react at once. He leaned back a little and studied the woman in the armchair across from him. Despite her pallor, she was not unattractive. She was a svelte woman in her late forties. Her hair was thick and blond. Clear blue eyes punctuated the round face. The mouth and chin were soft, maybe a bit weak, mirroring her son's facial features.

  "You expected it?"

  She nodded slowly.

  "He expected it. A few days before he died, he was very depressed. He said it wouldn't be much longer before they caught him."

  "Who are they?"

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  "I don't know," she said, irritated. "It's all too strange and vague."

  DeKok reflected that he had used almost the same words himself.

  "Are you certain he believed `they' would kill him?"

  Mrs. Achterberg nodded.

  "Trust me, he had reason to believe it. There were prior attempts on his life. Once he was almost pushed under an oncoming train. Other times someone shot at him."

  "Why did he not inform the police?"

  She shook her head.

  "He seriously thought for a while about leaving the country. But he wanted nothing to do with the police."

  "Did Robert know he was about to be arrested?"

  A tearful grimace contorted her face.

  "For producing pornography? The two detectives of the vice squad who came here made it clear they saw Robert as a contemptible, vile child predator." She shook her head. "They painted an ugly, distorted picture. Robert wasn't like that. Sure he photographed children, usually nude and in certain positions. The parents were often present during the photo sessions. They permitted it. Parents were always calling him or coming to the studio."

  "Oh? Do you recall the names of any of these people?"

  She lifted a hand and let it sink back into her lap.

  "No. The children came here sometimes, with the entire family. Robert paid a good hourly wage for the models. Cash. That was well known. None of the parents ever complained." She looked at DeKok as though pleading her son's case. "Otherwise Robert couldn't have lasted as long as he did. Nobody ever betrayed him. People weren't bothered by it because the pictures went to America. None of the children could ever be recognized or pointed out in the streets of Amsterdam."

  DeKok rubbed his face with a flat hand.

  "The American authorities are very bothered. They seriously fight pornography, especially child pornography."

  "I know that. Some FBI agents came all the way over here for Robert."

  DeKok made an apologetic gesture.

  "I've never seen the pictures your son made." His tone of voice was noncommittal. "I cannot cast judgment." He paused and gave her a searching look. "The threat Robert mentioned, was it related to the pornography?"

  She shook her head hesitantly.

  "According to Robert, the threats had nothing to do with his photographic work. Not even the special children's photos. No, he thought the danger was connected to a young woman."

  "Do you have a name?"

  "Therese de la Fontaine, a truly beautiful model. Robert had met her in the normal course of his work as a photographer."

  DeKok tilted his head to one side.

  "Do you know her?"

  Mrs. Achterberg nodded vaguely, as if to herself.

  "She's been here a few times with Robert. He introduced her to me."

  "As what did he introduce her?"

  "An acquaintance, a friend."

  "That's all?"

  She seemed confused.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Was she possibly more than an acquaintance?"

  Robert's mother lifted her hands and held them next to her head in a gesture of surrender.

  "I did get the impression that Robert liked her very much. She is, after all, exceptionally beautiful. Maybe he was in love with her." She fell silent and stared pensively at the floor. "He was in love with her, I realize it now."

  "And Therese?"

  Mrs. Achterber
g shook her head.

  "She was certainly nice, but she did not encourage Robert. On the contrary, she kept him at a distance, so to speak. I also had the distinct impression she had a relationship with someone else."

  "Did Robert know that?"

  Again she shook her head.

  "No, I don't think so. It was my personal impression. Call it an intuition. We never discussed it."

  "You weren't curious?"

  "It wasn't a subject I felt I could raise. I thought it might be too painful for her, as well as for Robert."

  DeKok nodded his understanding.

  "The possible friend, therefore, remains a shadowy figure."

  The woman breathed deeply.

  "Yes, I suppose so," she said passively.

  DeKok leaned closer.

  "Why did Robert go to live with her?"

  The mother did not answer at once. She looked vague, as if she had not heard the question.

  "You're talking about the beautiful house on Emperor's Canal?" The mother still responded ambiguously.

  "Her house, yes," confirmed DeKok.

  She straightened in her chair and took a deep breath.

  "Robert feared being arrested, so he asked Therese to take him in for a while. It was temporary, until the attention of the police waned a little."

  It was DeKok's turn to get irritated.

  "If your son Robert realized," he exclaimed, "that Therese was a threat to him, apparently a deadly threat, why would he do that?"

  Mrs. Achterberg lowered her head.

  "Who can account for the actions of a person in love?" she sighed. "Perhaps he wanted to live with her, under the same roof."

  "With his life at stake?"

  She looked devastated.

  "What could I do? What could I say? He refused to listen to me. In fact he did not believe Therese. Despite the attempts on his life, he refused to take her warnings seriously."

  It was DeKok's turn to be confused.

  "She warned him away?"

  Robert's mother closed her eyes, as if in pain.

  "Therese was always telling Robert not to be with her. `It would be his death,' she said."

  DeKok grimaced.

  "You are quite certain Therese said that?" he asked skeptically.

  She nodded. Her face was serious.

  "That is what she said. Therese was afraid... afraid for Robert's life."

  "But why?"

  Mrs. Achterberg licked her dry lips.

  "Therese was convinced the attempts on Robert's life were connected to his relationship with her. She had good reason. Every time a young man grew close to her, something terrible would happen. Someone would make attempts on his life. One young man who was very dear to her died mysteriously in a car accident."

  l)eKok raked both hands through his grey hair in an expression of despair. He had trouble reconciling the statements. They were simply too absurd.

  "She believes there is a curse on her?"

  Mrs. Achterberg looked at DeKok, bewildered. She folded her hands as if in prayer. She nodded with her mouth wide open. Fear shone from her clear blue eyes.

  "That's exactly what Therese said. She said it was a curse.

  13

  Vledder took his fingers off the keyboard and leaned comfortably back in his chair.

  "There's a curse on Therese?" he asked, laughing.

  DeKok nodded with a serious face.

  "Her very own words. She believes every man who pursues her is in danger of losing his life."

  "How ridiculous."

  DeKok made a negating gesture.

  "Ridiculous or not," he said calmly, "we have to look at the facts. Everet Tombs was her first love. He died in a car accident. Robert Achterberg...we know how he reached the end of his days."

  Vledder shook his head, irritated.

  "Okay. Therese is what, a witch? She rides her broomstick through the night and goes to bed with the devil? DeKok, we're no longer living in the Middle Ages. These are modern times, you know. We have electricity, satellites," he pointed at his computer, "modern communication methods."

  "So?"

  "There's no room for curses. Next thing you know, you'll tell me you believe in voodoo."

  "Really?"

  Vledder reacted emotionally.

  "Therese de la Fontaine may be unlucky. Come on, how many young men die in traffic accidents?" He pointed at DeKok. "Just to put your mind at ease, though, I'll find out how Everet Tombs died. The reports are here, somewhere." He patted his terminal with affection. "And as far as Robert Achterberg is concerned," he continued, "who says that Therese had anything to do with the shooting?"

  "The victim said it himself."

  Vledder waved impatiently.

  "Meaning nothing!" he said sharply. "Do we now give weight to ludicrous hearsay? Please tell me we do not believe the dark arts are at play here." He paused and continued in a calmer tone of voice. "Why did Antoinette take him home that night?"

  "Because she felt pity for him."

  Vledder nodded with a grin.

  "Exactly. He was oh-so-pathetic and forlorn."

  "He had been crying."

  Vledder nodded again, as if to emphasize his point.

  "Correct. Robert Achterberg appeared to be a very disturbed and distressed person. He had lost his perspective. Desperate men get strange ideas, delusions, hallucinations..." Vledder spread both hands. "Considering his unrequited love, it seems predictable for him to blame the object of his love."

  DeKok looked at his partner with admiration.

  "Antoinette happened to offer a sympathetic ear?"

  Vledder became enthused with his own theories.

  "Of course. Robert told Antoinette exactly what a woman wants to hear."

  DeKok suddenly pushed his chair back and placed his legs on the top of his desk. His face was transformed by a grimace of pain. All at once they returned. Little devils with hot barbs tortured his calves. Slowly, very slowly, the pain became more bearable. DeKok let out a deep sigh.

  Vledder knew the symptoms.

  "Tired feet?" he asked, concern in his voice.

  DeKok nodded slowly.

  "Without warning the pain returns. It's always a nasty surprise."

  "Why don't you see a doctor?"

  DeKok shook his head.

  "I told you before, the doctors tell me it's all psychosomatic. Every time I reach a dead end in an investigation, the little devils appear. When I am at a loss as to how, or even whether, to continue, the pain comes."

  Vledder smiled.

  "You're better than a barometer."

  DeKok pulled up his trousers and rubbed his calves.

  "But my barometer," he said with a weak smile, "always gives an accurate prediction."

  Vledder cocked his hat.

  "Does this indicate," he said, pointing at DeKok's legs, "lack of progress? Are we on the wrong trail?"

  DeKok stopped rubbing his legs. He placed his feet back on the floor and looked at Vledder with a friendly expression.

  "Back to what you were talking about, I'm still deeply impressed with your reasoning. Very astute, I must say. Robert Achterberg showed all the classic symptoms of a troubled, overstressed man." He paused a moment before continuing. "Yet," he continued, "I cannot rid myself of the idea Therese is connected to his death."

  "How?"

  "That I don't know."

  Vledder gave him a suspicious look.

  "Do you, eh, do you believe in that curse?"

  "It is Therese who believes in it."

  Vledder turned red.

  "What if she does believe in it?" he probed. "It is disinformation unless we can use it to solve this puzzle."

  DeKok looked at him, his face expressionless.

  "It might fit," he said slowly, "if it could lead us to the man or woman who makes the curse come true."

  They both fell silent after that remark. Both searched their feelings and weighed them against known facts. A sudden knocking made the
m both look toward the door. It opened slowly.

  Matthias Heusden stood in the door opening.

  DeKok stood up. With long, slow paces Heusden approached DeKok. Their eyes met. It looked like the beginning of a duel. When Matthias reached the desk, he stopped and unbuttoned his expensive suede coat. His movements were slow and precise.

  DeKok waited patiently for the ritual to come to an end. Then he waved at the chair next to his desk.

  "Please be seated," he said pleasantly and with an amiable smile. "Mr. Heusden, an unexpected visit." The smile disappeared. "Nothing serious has happened, I hope?"

  Heusden pulled up the legs of his trousers to preserve the crease and sat down.

  "This is painful, but I don't think it would be responsible to wait any longer."

  "What has happened?"

  "I need to report a missing person."

  "Therese?"

  "Yes. She's been gone for two nights and I'm worried."

  DeKok nodded his understanding.

  "You have heard nothing?"

  "Not a word."

  "Strange."

  "I think so, too. It's against her nature. Therese is usually a very thoughtful, considerate young woman who keeps her appointments."

  "And she had appointments?"

  "Certainly. Therese is much in demand as a model."

  DeKok looked at him intently.

  "Have you asked her mother? Perhaps she knows where she is."

  Heusden reacted harshly.

  "I want nothing to do with her."

  DeKok feigned surprise.

  "But after we came to visit you, you called her immediately and advised her to disappear."

  Matthias Heusden moved in his chair.

  "I, eh, at the time I seriously believed," he said hesitantly, "she had made good on her threat to kill Robert. The least I could do was warn her." He gestured apologetically. "After all, I've been married to her for a number of years."

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

  "Do you know Manfred Nettelhorst?"

  Heusden looked up, a suspicious look in his eyes.

  "Yes," he said, "I know him."

  "Mother Maria Goose insists you sold Therese to him."

  "And?"

  DeKok looked genuinely surprised.