"And you find that normal behavior?"
Heusden nodded.
"You're sitting behind this desk because you've sold yourself to the police, the law, the country."
DeKok shook his head and smiled.
"Not quite. I'll give you this: I rent my knowledge, my best efforts, and my qualifications to the judiciary for an inadequate fee. At the end of the day, my life and my soul belong to me."
Heusden reacted vehemently.
"Therese hasn't sold her soul either."
"What did she sell?"
Matthias Heusden lowered his head and rubbed the corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.
"I will try to explain," he said wearily. "A few years ago I advised Therese to compete in a beauty pageant. Therese was an up-and-coming photographer's model. She needed the publicity. At the time, I knew some of the jury members. It seemed Therese had a real chance of winning. During one of the preselections, Manfred Nettelhorst was in the audience. I had never met him. I only knew that he was wealthy, very wealthy, and an art collector. After the proceedings, he approached Therese and me. He placed a hand on her shoulder and said to me, `I'll buy her. How much is it going to cost?"'
DeKok looked incredulous.
"That's what he said? 'I'll buy her...how much is it going to cost?"'
"His exact words."
"How did you react?"
Heusden shrugged.
1 looked at him, dumbfounded. I was too astonished to say anything. Nettelhorst saw my hesitation and urged me to name a price."
"And you named a price?"
"Of course not," Heusden said testily. "After I had somewhat collected myself, I asked Nettelhorst how he envisioned such a purchase. Please know that I didn't want Therese to choose to be in `the life,' as her mother did."
"And?"
"Nettelhorst assured me he had no dishonorable motives. He told me not to worry on that account. He said he was a homosexual and his interest in Therese was not erotic."
"Then what?"
"He said he was a gatherer of unblemished beauty. And he saw a living symbol of that in Therese."
"Un-blem-ished beauty?"
"Exactly."
"And that's why he wanted to buy her?"
"Yes, indeed. He looked upon her as a beautiful-although living and breathing-work of art."
"And the purchase was for life?"
Heusden shook his head.
"No, not for life. If, in the sole judgment of Nettelhorst, Therese could no longer be seen as an unblemished beauty, his ownership would become null and void."
DeKok nodded his understanding.
"Old, fat, wrinkled, or slightly aged, she would no longer be worth a red cent."
Heusden took a deep breath.
"You express yourself rather bluntly, but that's what it amounted to, you're right."
"What did he offer?"
Matthias pursed his lips and spread his manicured hands.
"A beautiful house on Emperor's Canal."
"Where you live now?"
"Yes. The house is, and remains, Therese's property. In addition, for as long as the arrangement is in force, she receives a generous monthly stipend."
DeKok looked at him sharply.
"And what did he want in return?"
"Nothing."
DeKok smiled grimly.
"Nothing?" he repeated.
"No."
The grey sleuth rubbed a flat hand over his face. Then, pressing down heavily on his desk, he leaned forward.
"My dear Mr. Heusden," he spoke with emphasis, "I was not exactly born yesterday. I've been around, as they say. And for years it has been my job to research human behavior. Therefore, I don't mind listening to your story, but it has to have some basis in reality." He paused for a moment and leaned back, his face a steel mask. "What," he demanded, "did Manfred Nettelhorst want from Therese in return?"
Matthias Heusden lowered his head.
"She was to remain unblemished."
14
"Un-blem-ished."
DeKok spoke the word slowly, emphasizing every syllable. It was the second time during the course of this investigation that the word hounded his thoughts. Unblemished, he knew, meant pure, spotless, chaste, untouched, virginal, unsullied, and unadulterated.
The grey sleuth looked thoughtfully at Heusden.
"Did that mean," he asked carefully, "Manfred Nettelhorst did not allow any boyfriends, lovers, around Therese?"
"That's what it meant, yes."
"And how did he seek to control that?"
A painful smile fell across Heusden's face.
"In the beginning we had two full-time bodyguards in the house."
"Bodyguards?"
Heusden nodded.
"Manfred Nettelhorst sent two men. They did various jobs for him."
"Such as guarding Therese?"
"Indeed. And one or the other functioned as an escort or driver whenever Therese was called for an audition by Nettelhorst."
"Audition?"
"Yes," nodded Heusden. "That's the term Nettelhorst used. He scheduled one of these meetings every two months. One of the bodyguards would drive her to his villa in the country. I went with her once but had to wait outside. Therese told me what happened."
"What happened?"
"Therese had to undress and take a bath. Every trace of makeup had to be removed and she had to make sure there were no marks on her skin from her clothing. After the first visit he also told her she had to remove all body hair. Only the hair on her head, her eyebrows, and eyelashes were allowed. She went to a salon to have all of her body and facial hair removed. When she was ready, she would knock on the bathroom door from the inside and Nettelhorst would tell her to come out."
"Naked?"
"Yes, Nettelhorst was always by himself."
"Then what happened?"
"Therese would walk around the room, making small dance steps as she paraded before him. Afterward Nettelhorst would have her come closer, so he could study her."
DeKok snorted.
"That's when he checked on her unblemished state?"
"Yes, but he never touched her. She was told to put her hands on her head and slowly turn around several times while he took a close look at her body."
"I can imagine," snorted DeKok again. "And that was it?" he asked.
"Just about. After close examination she dressed in a G-string and a tight-fitting bodice. After she showed off the underwear, he would have her dress in new clothes and shoes; he would have them waiting on a chair. They were always the latest high-fashion creations and a perfect fit. She would then leave. Before exiting the room she was to face him and curtsy. A small suitcase with her `old' clothes was always waiting for her at the front door."
"And she did that every two months?"
Heusden sighed.
"It was all laid down in the sales contract," he said resignedly. He raised a finger in the air. "But honesty compels me to say he never laid a finger on her and he never invited any of his friends to the showing."
DeKok grinned without mirth.
"Therese was his exclusive property. An exclusive art object."
Matthias pursed his lips, as if considering.
"Yes," he said finally, "that seems to be the correct interpretation."
DeKok reflected.
"How was Therese able to elude the two bodyguards when she fled in the night?"
A shadow fled across Heusden's handsome face.
"I had soon had enough of the two of them. They lurked everywhere, watching everything and everybody. One of them, a big guy with a moustache, started making advances toward Therese. I called Nettelhorst and advised him to withdraw his two muscle boys."
"And he did?"
"Yes."
"And who took over as guard?"
"I.
"So you had to make sure that Therese retained her, eh, her unblemished state?"
"Yes.
DeKok spread his hands
on the desk.
"Why would you think of taking Robert Achterberg into the house?"
Matthias Heusden did not answer at once. He rubbed two fingers inside his collar.
"Robert was wanted by the police," he said finally. "He was supposed to have produced pornography. It seemed his arrest was imminent. Therese assured me there was nothing between her and Robert. She vowed the relationship would never be a romantic one. She also agreed he could only stay for a short time."
DeKok nodded.
"Until the police interest abated and Robert could go back to his mother."
"Yes."
"Had you ever met Robert Achterberg before that?"
Heusden nodded.
"Therese brought him home for lunch a few times, while they were both on the same assignment."
"You knew someone had targeted Robert, had made attempts on his life?"
"Therese told me."
"What did you think about that?"
Heusden hesitated for a few moments before he spoke.
"I never took those so-called murder attempts seriously. It was my feeling Robert was trying to impress Therese. It sounded like bragging, you understand."
DeKok nodded to himself.
"Did Manfred Nettelhorst know you had taken in an acquaintance? I think we can call Robert that. Did he know he was living in the house?"
Matthias Heusden shook his head vehemently.
"No, no, certainly not," he exclaimed anxiously. "He would never have permitted it."
DeKok leaned closer.
"We understand Robert Achterberg left his refuge one evening in great haste. It was a few days before his murder. He was inadequately dressed for the weather and, apparently, both agitated and depressed. What had happened?"
Heusden raised both arms in the air.
"I don't know," he complained. "Really, I have no idea." He swallowed. "At approximately ten o'clock that night I discovered the hall light on and the front door wide open. At first I thought that Therese had come home and had not shut the door properly. Later, when Therese came home, I checked Robert's room."
"And?"
"He was gone."
"How did Therese react?"
Heusden loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt.
"She asked me if I had scared him."
"What did she mean by that?"
Heusden reacted, confused. His face was pale and he stretched out a trembling hand.
"I asked her that," he said in a voice trembling with despair. "I asked her why she thought I would scare the boy... and how?"
"And what did Therese say to that?"
"She did not pursue the subject."
"And you did not urge her to explain herself?"
"Sure. I took her by the arms. I wanted to force her to tell me what she meant. She had been acting strangely toward me for days. She was avoiding me. I felt she had been keeping deliberately out of my way."
"Was there a reason for that?"
"Not as far as I knew."
"Did Therese finally explain?"
Heusden shook his head.
"I let her go, dropped the subject. I did not want to escalate the tension on either side. It was the first time there was any unpleasantness between us."
DeKok rubbed his nose.
"A few days later," he mused, "in the middle of the night, Therese fled, apparently very upset. Both young people ran from the same house on Emperor's Canal." The old inspector paused and looked sharply at his visitor. "Did you scare her, too?"
Vledder grinned.
"When you asked if he had scared Therese, I thought he was going to grab you by the throat. Man, oh man, he was really angry."
DeKok smiled.
"Doesn't it seem strangely coincidental for Robert and Therese to flee the house in the same condition? Both were overwrought, agitated, almost hysterical. Robert fled and was subsequently murdered. Therese fled because she was afraid of murder. And you know what I noticed? Heusden never asked how I knew that Therese was upset that night."
"You also did not tell him that she went to seek help from Henri Tombs."
DeKok shook his head.
"I didn't think it would serve any purpose."
Vledder wrinkled his nose in a gesture of disgust.
"You think Heusden knows more than he's telling?"
DeKok shrugged.
"We do not have a trace of evidence," he said tiredly. "We don't even have a clear motive for Robert's murder."
"Matthias was under orders to keep lovers away from Therese."
DeKok pulled out his lower lip and let it plop back several times. Vledder was just about to tell him to stop that disgusting habit when the old man spoke.
"Was Robert a lover?" he asked.
"Nettelhorst could have considered him her lover."
"But Nettelhorst did not know that Robert lived in the house."
Vledder raised a finger.
"That's what Heusden tells us. What if he was wrong? What if Nettelhorst knew? If somebody tipped him off, Heusden was in hot water. After all, he insisted upon being the guardian of Therese's unblemished beauty."
DeKok gave his young colleague an encouraging look.
"That is a correct conclusion. It might be a motive for Heusden to chase Robert out of the house. But is it also a motive for murder?"
Vledder came out from behind his desk. He took a chair and placed it next to DeKok's desk. Then he sat down backward, leaning his arms on the back of the chair. His young face was aglow with enthusiasm.
"Just think about what Mother Goose told us. Robert Achterberg was in grave danger. All the while he was spinning a tale about a golden future, about connections in America who could raise Therese to the top of her profession. Had Robert convinced Therese to go, Heusden would have lost the house, the money...
DeKok leaned back in his chair.
"Dick Vledder," he said pensively, "you might just have something there."
The two inspectors left the station house and walked toward Rear Fort Canal at a leisurely pace.
DeKok glanced aside.
"How do we prove your theory?"
"You mean how do we prove Therese's stepfather murdered Robert Achterberg?"
"Yes."
Vledder shrugged his shoulders.
"I think it's about time that we interrogate Therese de la Fontaine. Perhaps she knows something key to finding the evidence we need. Keep in mind there were just a few hours between Robert's murder and Therese's flight from home. It's just possible she saw Heusden return to the house. Perhaps she observed something in his demeanor or on his person. There could have been a confrontation or an admission. Who knows?"
DeKok nodded to himself, digesting the theories.
"A workable theory," he agreed. "You speculate Therese suspected or knew her stepfather killed Achterberg, so she fled into the night."
Vledder grimaced.
"All this hearsay makes me sick! It's all he said/she said. Bah! Nevertheless Henri Tombs sincerely believed Therese was afraid she could be the next murder victim."
DeKok smiled.
"You're very sharp tonight."
"Sure," answered Vledder. "It's about time to apply your methods."
On the corner of Barn Alley they entered Little Lowee's establishment. They took comfort in the warmth. The place was welcoming, intimate, and sparsely lit by red and pink lights.
DeKok greeted a number of prostitutes in passing. They were acquaintances of long standing. They were a jovial bunch, sipping their sweet drinks.
With a satisfied sigh, DeKok hoisted himself onto his favorite bar stool. Lowee moved hastily behind the bar.
"Howsda murder business?" he asked cheerily.
DeKok's face fell.
"Bad."
"Youse still ain't gotta clue who shotta porno guy?"
DeKok shook his head.
"We hope," he joked, "your cognac will give us some much-needed inspiration."
The small barkeeper
could take a hint. With eellike agility he reached under the bar and produced the special bottle they had sampled before. With a routine gesture he lined up three snifters.
"Youse talked to Maria Goose?" he asked.
The grey sleuth nodded and watched with greedy eyes as Lowee poured the cognac into the glasses.
"Remember last time we were here? She was waiting for us when we returned to the station house," offered Vledder.
Lowee ignored him. He tolerated Vledder because he was DeKok's partner, but that did not mean Vledder could talk anytime he felt like it. Lowee pushed a glass in front of DeKok and Vledder and raised his own.
They sipped and remained reverently silent as the first taste of the exquisite liquor lingered.
With a deep sigh of satisfaction, DeKok replaced his glass on the counter.
"Did you send her? Maria Goose, I mean."
"Na.
DeKok nodded and took another sip. Cognac like that was rare and should not be hurried.
Lowee drained his glass and leaned closer.
"Youse lookin' for Marius Graaf?"
DeKok looked surprised.
"How do you know that?"
Lowee gestured vaguely.
"I got ways. I got ears. Some cop from da Lijnbaansgracht bin askin' onna street."
DeKok looked a question at Vledder, who nodded.
"I called Lijnbaansgracht and asked them to run down Marius."
The small barkeep grinned.
"Youse ain't gonna find 'em anytime soon."
DeKok looked at him over his glass.
"Why?"
"Dose guys took off outta here. Left town."
"Who are those guys?"
"Marius and DeBeau."
DeKok grimaced.
"Who is DeBeau?"
Lowee waved his hands around.
"Marius and DeBeau is gabbers, eh, I means partners." He corrected himself for the benefit of Vledder, whose knowledge of Amsterdam's thieves' language was rudimentary at best.
"Partners in evil," opined DeKok.
Lowee grinned mischievously.
"You goddit. DeBeau bin 'ere coupla years. He's a good-lookin' Frenchy...atletish, long, blond hair, tan, anna mustache. Inna quarter they calls 'im `DeBeau."' He grinned. "Maybe 'cause of the way 'e looks, geddit?" He turned toward Vledder, continuing the didactic portion of his description in perfect Dutch. "Beau means `beautiful' in French, you see."
Vledder, who spoke fluent French, acted as if Lowee had just given him valuable information.
DeKok and the Dead Lovers (Inspector DeKok Investigates) Page 10