To my horror, I started blushing as a result of his cheesy remark and averted my eyes. Jennifer, get a grip for crying out loud, I said to myself. I looked like a bloody schoolgirl.
I ignored his flirty comment. “Do you live nearby?”
He mentioned a neighbourhood where Oliver and I had once viewed several sought-after houses, but Oliver ultimately wanted to move to an area with more grandeur. “It’s about five minutes from the Vondelpark.”
“Nice neighbourhood,” I responded.
“Where do you and your son live?”
The sun reappeared from behind the clouds. “In the Valeriusstraat. It’s very close, in the Museum Quarter.”
He drew his breath in with a whistle. “Not bad.”
I smiled graciously.
Tim came up to me with a cup filled with sand and wanted me to have a bite of his pretend pastry. He spilled half of it over my trousers, but I was glad he was playing more appropriately now, so I kept quiet and played along with him.
He wobbled back to the sandpit with a bright smile on his face as I brushed the sand off my legs.
The man, who I now allowed myself to call attractive, held out his hand. “I’m Dan Bernstein, by the way.”
I enclosed his fingers with mine. “Jennifer. Jennifer Smits.”
He held on to my hand a second too long with an intense look in his eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The man’s deep voice stirred a wave of heat inside me. I lowered my eyes.
Dan let go of my hand, stood up and zipped his jacket. He handed me a business card with the all too familiar logo printed on it.
Daniel Bernstein, Lawyer.
“You seem a lovely woman, Jennifer. Give me a call if you ever feel like meeting up in the future.”
I looked up at him for a moment, while he was waiting for my response, my hand shielding my eyes from the sun. Was this the way people over thirty flirted? No beating about the bush, just say it like it is? It had been such a long time since I’d been single, I felt like an alien trying to adapt to a completely unfamiliar habitat.
“I’ll think about it,” was my diplomatic answer.
But I wouldn’t dream of it. My head was nowhere near dating.
19
“Cheers!” Frederique said.
We raised our glasses of Chardonnay over the wooden table and clinked. Lindsey and I were seated on a bench on one side of the table, our two other friends sat opposite us.
“To what shall we make a toast?” Lindsey asked and looked around.
I dithered for a moment. “To new love?”
Lindsey wavered before responding and I wondered if she was thinking of the stranded relationship with Paul, although ‘affair’ might be a better word to describe it. She’d just confided in me that after a few months of dating she’d discovered the bastard turned out to be married. According to him, the divorce was just a formality, but it was enough for Lindsey to kick him to the curb. “To new love,” she responded firmly, taking a sip, and I could tell she’d already bounced back.
“It’s wonderful we’re all together again tonight,” Lindsey continued, her blond hair looking silkier than ever. She’d taken the rough break-up with Paul as the perfect opportunity for an appointment with her hairdresser.
“Without men,” Karen chimed in eagerly, and then looked at me with a guilty expression.
I waved my hand to indicate I didn’t take offense.
“Without children,” Frederique added with a sigh and sipped her wine, savouring every drop. Her three children were at home with the nanny tonight. “Mmm … Delicious,” she declared with the air of a connoisseur.
Not much later, the cheese platter arrived, which we gratefully began devouring. It was the first time since the winter that we were able to sit outside on the terrace again. The heater was certainly necessary – nevertheless it was a long awaited sign of the warmer months that lay ahead.
Today’s pleasant weather had moved the topic of conversation to holiday plans and Frederique informed us breezily about the trip to the Maldives that she was going to take this summer with her family of five.
As Frederique and Karen chatted excitedly about their holiday plans, Lindsey and I were having a heart-to-heart.
“So … to new love … what was that all about?” she whispered and looked at me curiously.
I should have known she’d pick up on it. I smiled and bit my lip. “What are you talking about?”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Don’t act all innocent with me, gal.” Lindsey jabbed her finger into my arm. “You know I’ll find out if something’s going on, Jennifer Smits.”
I laughed and raised my right hand. “I confess, your honour. There may be something.”
Lindsey swung a leg over the bench so that her body was now facing me. “Seriously, Jen?” She wasn’t able to play it cool anymore and grabbed my arm. “Tell me or I’ll have to kill you.”
I described how I’d met Dan Bernstein at the playground in the Vondelpark. I had intended to blank out the encounter, but the attractive stranger just kept popping up in my mind.
“He somehow managed to crawl under my skin,” I ended my story. “Isn’t that ridiculous? Oh, I feel terribly guilty towards Oliver.” I thoughtlessly ran my fingers over the plastic tablecloth that was draped over the table.
She shrugged and frowned. “Why would it be ridiculous? There’s no need to feel guilty.”
In the past, if someone had immediately started dating again after a break-up, I would have been strongly opinionated about it, but being in that position myself now, I slowly came to the realisation that things were sometimes out of your hands. “Don’t you think it’s too soon to be attracted to someone else? Oliver died less than six months ago.”
She laid her hand on mine. “You can’t put a time stamp on it. It’s completely normal for someone to make you feel butterflies in your stomach again. You’re still young, right?” She laughed and gave a me a wink. “Every woman has her needs.”
I gave her a warning look. Behind me I heard a boat sliding through the ancient canal a mere metres away from the terrace, making the water splash against the quay, and it gave a me a comforting feeling of being home.
“But what about Tim?”
Lindsey shrugged. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. We’re not talking about nuptials, are we? It’s just the first time since Oliver that someone makes your heart skip a beat. Now you know you’re still alive.” She held up the platter. “Cheese?”
“Thanks,” I said as I cut off a piece and put it in my mouth. Lindsey was right. “The silly thing was that he was actually annoying me terribly.” I chuckled while munching on the Camembert. “He seems the type to wear his heart on his sleeve as he wasn’t at all afraid to show his emotions. Very different from Oliver, that’s for sure.”
Lindsey held up the bottle of wine to offer a refill and I slid my glass towards her. “That’s how things go sometimes,” she said shortly and to the point, emptying the bottle into my glass.
I cut off another piece of cheese. “Coincidence has it that he was a former colleague of Oliver’s.”
Shock crossed Lindsey’s face. “What?!”
“Well, a distant colleague. He only knew Oliver by sight.”
Lindsey’s expression had turned from jolly to austere. “I don’t want to rain on your parade, but you’ll have to agree that this is too weird. Surely, this can’t be a coincidence?”
A shudder went through me. I swallowed the Camembert and remained silent.
“First, out of the blue, Oliver stumbles and crashes down a slope, fatally hitting his head on a rock. Then that Sandra woman, with whom you sneaked into Mason & McGant, suddenly dies, and now some guy randomly approaches you in the park, who works at that same firm. I find it all very remarkable.”
I felt sick. I shouldn’t have eaten so much of the Camembert. “You’ve got a point.” When she put it like that, it did seem suspicious.
There was a frown on he
r forehead. “How exactly did Sandra die?”
“She had a collision with a tram, somewhere in the Baarsjes neighbourhood. That’s all I know.” I pushed the glass of wine away from me. “You’re scaring me, Lindsey,” I said, although I didn’t know exactly what she was suggesting and neither, it seemed, did she.
She laid her hands on both of my thighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. It just suddenly dawned on me that there’s a lot at stake for Mason & McGant. They can’t afford for someone to expose them and jeopardise their reputation.”
I nodded. Sandra and I had already formulated this hypothesis not long ago, but I’d later dismissed it for being vague and for lack of evidence. Lindsey had actually been the one saying I was chasing phantoms and that I should try to blank it all out, but now her reaction made me question the whole thing all again. “Do you think Sandra’s accident might have been foul play?”
“It’s unlikely, though not impossible,” she answered after a brief pause. “For argument’s sake, let’s presume that it is the case. I wonder then how they could have found out that Sandra had been nosing around in Mason & McGant. You two didn’t get caught, right?”
I shook my head and reflected on it for a while until it suddenly hit me. “Sandra must have been identified on Mason & McGant’s security footage,” I exclaimed. My heart started pounding wildly when I realised what the inherent implication was. “There’s a good chance they’ve recognised me as well.”
Lindsey stiffened up.
I felt a burning sensation in my chest and tried to swallow the acidic taste in my mouth. Frederique asked us if we wanted to order another bottle of wine, but my mind had gone to mush and I just waved no with my hand.
I mulled recent events over. Subconsciously, I’d found it odd that a man would hang around in a playground without a child. Also, that threatening note I’d received made me jittery. It could very well mean nothing – youngsters pulling a prank, or an oddball in the neighbourhood who was upset about something. But no matter how hard I tried to rationalise it, I couldn’t quite shake off a feeling of apprehension.
“Do you think they’ve sent this Dan guy after me to follow me around?” I mused. “Maybe it’s his job to find out how much I know.”
Lindsey looked at me ruminatively. “I don’t know. It sounds absurd, but we can’t rule anything out. In any case, this is starting to become a whole different ball game and you may have been right that something’s going on. I think you should seriously consider contacting the police, as soon as possible,” she urged with a look of genuine concern.
20
I sat on the couch in the living room and looked over at Tim. He was playing quietly on the rug with his toy cars, making vroom vroom sounds and crashing noises. I rubbed my eyes, feeling drained. The last two nights I’d had a tough time sleeping, as I kept brooding over my conversation with Lindsey. Just when I finally thought I could leave everything regarding the deaths of Oliver and Sandra to rest, this mess suddenly dominated my whole life again. Even though I knew deep down that Oliver’s accident had a strange and inexplicable edge to it, I had more or less come to grips with it. But now, to my horror, it was beginning to resurface.
I opened one of the garden doors and walked onto the flagstones. It was windy and drizzling, which didn’t benefit my state of mind, but nevertheless it was nice to have a breath of fresh air.
I took my phone out of the back pocket of a brand new pair of jeans that I’d recently ordered online, looked up the number of the police station in Amsterdam and asked to be connected to Detective Armstrong. It wasn’t long before he answered his phone.
“Armstrong,” the man barked.
“Good morning, this is Jennifer Smits speaking. I’m Oliver’s wife, the man who died in a holiday park after a fall a few months ago.”
There was a pause. “Right. I remember. What can I do for you, Mrs Smits?”
I launched into my story. “Some strange things have happened since my husband’s death.” I explained how Sandra had suddenly died as a result of a tram accident. “She was a friend of ours,” I said, obviously being cryptic for good reasons.
“I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been tough losing two people close to you in such a short space of time,” the detective responded. “But I don’t quite understand what this woman’s death has to do with your husband’s accident.”
I scratched my eyebrow. There was such chaos in my head that I had to strain to convey the story in a coherent fashion. “Sandra’s husband works at the same law firm that my husband worked at. She and I recently discovered that Oliver was conducting a secretive, internal investigation. I omitted the details of how we had learned about this information, as it arguably wouldn’t contribute to my credibility if I added that we had misappropriated documents from Mason & McGant. “All information suggests that my husband was slowly unravelling secret activities that were taking place at his firm. I find it quite remarkable, to put it mildly, that both he and Sandra died under suspicious circumstances. I believe there is enough circumstantial evidence to reopen the investigation,” I ended my plea.
The detective sounded weary. “Mrs Smits, I informed you some time ago that there was nothing suspicious about your husband’s death. We’ve done various investigations and tests. Your husband died as a result of a nasty fall.”
“What about Sandra?” I protested. “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that she got hit by a tram in broad daylight? It doesn’t make any sense. Shouldn’t there be a more detailed inquiry to determine the precise circumstances of her death?”
“I’ve heard of this accident,” the detective responded. “My colleague was in charge of the case. I can assure you that he’s laboriously examined everything and gleaned information from various sources, but nothing suspicious came out of it. With this in mind, I’m confident to say we can rule out any criminal wrongdoing.”
I felt the conversation slipping through my fingers, but I wanted to do everything in my power to persuade him to start another investigation. “What about the red knickers my husband wore when he was found? You have to admit there’s something not right about that.”
“Well,” he said, laughing. “Wearing a pair of ladies knickers certainly wouldn’t float my boat, but who am I to judge? You’re not suggesting your husband was killed over some ladies knickers, are you?”
I shook my head. He didn’t understand me and I started wondering if the police had botched the investigation. Wasn’t there such a thing as tunnel vision, where they’d cross off theories too early?
I pressed my face against the window to check up on Tim who was still inside. Then I turned around and rested my back against the cool glass. “Who was the detective on Sandra’s case?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t reveal that kind of information,” the detective replied.
I was considering informing the man about the threatening note I’d received at home, but I knew it would be pointless. I’d failed to hold on to it, something I now deeply regretted.
I bowed my head, as if admitting defeat. There was nothing more I could think of to say. “Thank you for your time.”
“I wish I could help you more in this hour of need. You take care, Mrs Smits.”
I hung up and kicked a pebble that landed against the shed with a sharp tap.
I lowered myself onto one of the garden chairs that I’d recently taken out of the shed, all excited over the sudden arrival of spring, but jumped up swearing when I realised that my trousers had become soaked.
I wrapped my arms around myself as I stood outside, musing over the phone call. On second thought, maybe the detective was right and I was establishing imaginary links. Admittedly, I’d recently concluded myself that there was no substantial evidence whatsoever linking Oliver’s death to Mason & McGant. Undoubtably, if the police were to dig around the place, something would come to light that could be frowned upon, but a firm committing murders and sending lawyers after people was an utterly ludicrous sugg
estion.
I wiped my feet on the mat and went back inside.
“Mummy,” Tim yelled, running towards me. I sank down on my knees as he threw himself into my arms. I held him tightly and forgot about all the worries in my life for a brief moment.
He wriggled himself loose. “I want a biscuit.”
“Can I have a biscuit?” I corrected him.
He repeated my words, after which I praised him. “C’mon.” I lifted him up and planted him onto one of the kitchen stools, something he hadn’t been allowed to do before.
Excitement started spreading across his face.
“Can you sit by yourself?” I asked and cautiously let go of him.
He nodded and beamed with pride, his legs wiggling with delight. I grabbed my phone to take a picture of him to send to Oliver, until I realised that it was no longer possible. And then out of the blue, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of grief, as raw and fierce as it had been months ago.
Before I could hold them back, tears were rolling down my cheeks.
“Mummy ouch?”
I explained to Tim that I missed his father and asked him tentatively if he ever thought about Daddy. I wanted so desperately for him to keep vivid memories of Oliver, but I knew he was too young.
He looked at me with eyes wide open and nodded yes. I didn’t often break down in his presence, but this time I couldn’t help it.
I pulled myself together, smiled, and gave Tim a pat on his head, after which I handed him the promised biscuit and filled up the kettle.
Tim nibbled on his biscuit, his little legs sticking horizontally over the edge of the stool while I waited for the water to boil, my thoughts straying to Sandra’s death. Her husband had told me over the phone that she’d been hit by tram twelve. But had it really been an accident or was there foul play involved? Detective Armstrong hadn’t been the one assigned to the case and wasn’t willing to share with me which colleague it was. I was prepared to pull out all the stops to uncover the truth about Sandra’s collision, in order to determine whether I was in danger or not. But if I didn’t know which investigator was on the case, how could I find out more?
Double Deceit Page 16