Beyond The Window: A Fast Paced Crime Thriller (Private Detective Heinrich Muller Crime Thriller Book 2)

by Robert Brown

  “What’s that mean?” Heinrich asked.

  “I think she meant Delft,” Britt said. “It’s a city to the south of here. It’s less than an hour on the train.”

  Heinrich smiled at the childish scrawl and whispered, “Good girl.” Then he turned to Johan. “What’s in Delft?”

  He shrugged. “How should I know?”

  A right cross laid him out on the bed.

  “I want a better answer than that. Try again.”

  “I don’t know! We don’t have an office there. None of us live there.”

  Heinrich clenched his fist.

  “Satyr Studios! They’re based in Delft.”

  “Another porn studio?”

  “Yeah. They’re not specialized like we are. They do a bunch of different stuff.”

  “Do they do Cut and Paste?” Britt asked. She had taken her bullwhip out of the duffel bag where she had stowed her gear.

  “Not that I know of. It’s a lucrative business, though, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d like to get into it.”

  “Especially if they have an experienced mother-daughter team,” Heinrich said, feeling disgusted. He thought for a moment. Would Casey do that? Hadn’t she nearly broken down when she saw proof of what Anders had been doing? Would she really make a beeline to the competitor?

  At this point, Heinrich couldn’t even guess what that idiot would do. “Did Casey have any idea that Anders was putting her daughter in Cut and Paste movies?” Heinrich asked Johan.

  “I don’t know. Anders did it behind her back. Casey was getting paid well. I think she decided to see what she wanted to see.”

  “Do you know these people at Satyr Studios?”

  “No. I’m a business manager. I keep clear of the production side of things and I don’t talk to any of the other filmmakers.”

  “Don’t pretend your hands are clean.”

  Johan laughed. “Who’s hurt? They don’t touch the kid, and the kid is never in the same room as any sexual situations. Where’s the harm?”

  “Those pictures will follow her for the rest of her life, you piece of shit!” Britt cried, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “No one will recognize her when she’s all grown up—and hey, if she decides to go into the business, she’ll already have some good flicks on her resume.”

  That earned Johan another punch to the face. He fell on the floor, chuckling.

  “Don’t bother,” Britt said. “He likes it.”

  “I thought he was a top.”

  “Most people who are tops really want to be bottoms, and vice versa,” Britt said.

  Heinrich threw his hands up. “I don’t get any of this shit. I want to go home!”

  “So do I,” Johan said, struggling to his feet. His face looked like mincemeat. “I’ve given you what you asked for. Now let me go. This is kidnapping.”

  “Bullshit. You tried to kill me.”

  “Prove it. We were in the back room of a BDSM party. I can just say you asked for it. But Sander didn’t ask for you to gut him with a halberd.”

  Heinrich felt a prickle ascend his spine. Britt stared at him, suddenly pale.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “He came at me with a sword. It was self-defense.”

  “Prove it,” the pornographer challenged.

  Heinrich didn’t have a response to that.

  Johan sneered. “Go home, cowboy. You have nothing on us. Casey came to us voluntarily. Her brat was never made to do anything illegal. As for the fight in the castle, it’s your word against ours, and you’re the one with blood on your hands and your fingerprints all over the murder weapon. Now it looks like the bitch has gone to the competition. Well, fuck her, and fuck you.”

  Johan got up and walked to the door. Suddenly he stopped, as if remembering something. He turned and held out his hand.

  “My keys and phone, please. Otherwise, I call the police.”

  Heinrich ground his teeth. Seeing no choice, he handed them over. Johan laughed and strolled out the door.

  The two of them stood in silence for a moment. Britt put a hand on his shoulder. “Let it go. Now what do we do?”

  “We? You still want to help after all this?”

  Britt’s face took on a hard look. “Now more than ever. I believe that they tried to kill you. That son of a bitch admitted he was guilty. There’s just no way to prove it. I’ll help you prove it. That little girl needs to be safe. If we don’t protect her, who will?” Britt’s eyes took on a distant look and Heinrich remembered what she had said about photographs following Arizona for the rest of her life. Britt sounded like she was speaking from experience.

  After a moment, she shook herself out of it and checked her phone.

  “The last train to Delft has already left. We’ll have to go in the morning.”

  “I hate to wait, but I need to meet with Casey’s father-in-law tomorrow morning. He’s flying into town. Not sure how much he’s going to help, but he’s the one paying my fee, so I can’t really say no.”

  “I can help. Here’s an idea. Why don’t I go to Satyr Studios and ask for a job? I can look for Casey and her daughter.”

  “I don’t want you to run any risks.”

  Britt shook her head, a hard look of determination turning her face to stone. “I’m going to do it whether you give me permission or not. I’m not going to let these bastards get away with it.”

  Heinrich was about to object. He didn’t want two amateurs along on this case. However, the look Britt gave him made him realize that objecting would be useless. She had made up her mind.

  “All right,” he sighed. “We’ll go to Delft together.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Aknock on his hotel door roused Heinrich from a deep sleep. He checked the clock and found that it was already eight-thirty in the morning. Stumbling out of bed, he checked the peep hole, then opened the door.

  An austere older man was in the hall. He stood erect, very stiff, and wore gray dress pants and a pressed white shirt. A small gold crucifix hung from his neck. The guy looked to be in his sixties but in good health. His receding gray hair and the care lines etched into his face were the only significant signs of age. His cold blue eyes were bright and alert, and his body was trim and fit. There was enough of a resemblance to Brixton that Heinrich knew this to be David Murphy.

  However, the resemblance was physical only. Heinrich got the feeling that the two weren’t alike at all.

  “Mr. Müller, I presume?” David asked.

  “Well, I’m not Dr. Livingstone,” Heinrich joked.

  He got a blank stare in return. He wasn’t sure whether David Murphy had missed the reference or simply lacked a sense of humor. Heinrich decided he didn’t much care. This guy would only cramp his style.

  “Yes, I’m Heinrich Müller.”

  “I’m David Murphy, Brixton’s father.” His handshake was firm.

  “Pleased to meet you. Come on in and let’s talk.”

  Once the Baptist preacher had sat down, Heinrich studied him for a second. He looked straight-laced, but level-headed and practical—basically, the opposite of his son. Heinrich had done some reading on this guy and had learned that he had built up his ministry from nothing, making a point to preach sermons in some of the worst urban areas of the country. David Murphy also had a prison ministry and regularly visited federal penitentiaries himself.

  Heinrich decided this was a man he could level with. So he told him everything, not leaving out a single detail, as much as some of those details embarrassed him. The preacher listened in grim silence. When Heinrich finished, David thought for a moment. He held the crucifix around his neck and looked at it.

  Then he let out a deep sigh.

  “It’s my fault, I suppose. Lord knows I meant best.”

  “I don’t see how this is your fault, Mr. Murphy.”

  “I was too permissive. The seminary I attended was a large one, and I kept in touch with all my classmates. I saw how th
ey raised their children. Those who raised with a gentle hand generally had children who kept the faith. Those who forced religion down their children’s throats ended up facing rebellion. So I tried the gentle hand.”

  “And Brixton rebelled anyway.”

  David looked at him sharply.

  “His Christian name is Aaron. He took on the name Brixton after studying for a year abroad in London. He always went slumming in the clubs and restaurants in Brixton.”

  “So he took on the name of a black neighborhood to show off how cosmopolitan he is? Typical liberal,” Heinrich snorted.

  “I take it you’re a political conservative, Mr. Müller?”

  “No. You’d probably call me a flaming liberal if we started going through the issues. I just think most liberals are fake. Politics is a fashion accessory for them.”

  David let out a short laugh, but there was no mirth in it. “Well put. I wish I had thought of it, although I don’t think my son would have listened to me. Even from a young age, he went his own way. Not like his older sisters, who kept strong in the faith. He never believed, and he embraced anything he thought would anger me. And I was angry, even if I tried my best to hide it. He has a talent for getting my goat. Even so, I always hoped he’d come around. God knows I gave him everything he ever asked for.”

  Heinrich almost said that had been his mistake, that by making life easy for Brixton, David had kept his son from ever growing up and growing a backbone. However, Heinrich held his tongue. This guy was too smart to not realize that already.

  Of course, people were always the most blind when it came to those closest to them.

  “Do you have any idea where Casey might have gone?” Heinrich asked.

  “Casey.” The minister spat out the name like sour milk. “I should have put my foot down when he started dating that harlot. I knew she’d be trouble. Can I tell you something in confidence? It might help with your investigation.”

  “Of course, Mr. Murphy. Everything related to this case is in the strictest confidence unless it ties into the police investigation. And then, of course, I’m required by law to divulge it.” Heinrich moved over to the room’s coffee machine. “Coffee? I know you’ve had a long flight.”

  “Yes, please. I take it black. What I’m about to tell you doesn’t have any direct bearing on the case, but it does give you a better idea who you’re dealing with. I suppose you’re wondering why Casey took Arizona and not Serenity.”

  Heinrich tensed as he put the capsule in the Nespresso machine. “Maybe because she’s a bit older? You don’t think she was planning to put her in the movies, do you?”

  “No.” David shook his head. “Not even she would do that. She’s more selfish than evil. Selfish and stupid. No, she left Serenity behind because she’s Brixton’s daughter.”

  “And Arizona isn’t?”

  “No. I don’t know who the father is. Casey probably doesn’t know either, the little hussy.”

  “Brixton didn’t tell me that.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t know and he’s never going to know,” David said, treating Heinrich to a level gaze.

  Heinrich met it. There was power in this man. So, why had his son turned out to be such a wimp?

  “Do I make myself clear, Mr. Müller?”

  “Crystal. How do you know?”

  “I learned of Casey’s dalliances and so I had a DNA test done on both my granddaughters and myself. A simple mouth swab. Casey never knew I did it. I’m related to Serenity but not Arizona. She hates Brixton so much, she rejected her daughter simply because she’s his, too.”

  “Wonderful,” Heinrich sighed, flipping on the machine. He checked the number of capsules. This was going to be a two-coffee morning.

  “It would break Brixton’s heart if he knew,” David Murphy went on in a quieter tone, “although she’s certainly done that several times already. From the get-go, I saw what kind of person she was. Oh, I hoped she’d change. She had a hard upbringing. Lived in some trailer park in the desert outside Yuma, Arizona. Poverty and ignorance were her childhood companions, and she was sexually abused by not one but two uncles. Her parents did nothing but blame her.”

  “Damn.”

  The minister didn’t seem to mind the swear word. Perhaps he hadn’t heard. His fingers were interlaced and he stared at the floor with a lost, defeated expression.

  “I thought that bringing her into a secure, happy family might change her ways. We were all kind to her, all patient. Brixton’s older sisters took her under their wing. Nothing helped. Once, my eldest noticed some of her jewelry missing. I couldn’t prove it was Casey but I’m sure it was. Then Casey started lording it over my son, always telling him what to do. She wanted her name on the bank account. I told him no. I didn’t trust her. But she got her hooks in and told him that if he couldn’t trust her, she’d leave him, so he conceded. It wasn’t a month before that bank account was cleaned out.”

  “Just enough time to plan a move to Amsterdam.”

  David Murphy nodded sadly. “I think the Lord sent her to test me.”

  “She’s tested me plenty, too. She nearly got me killed. Why does she hate Brixton so much? He seems to have been pretty patient with her.”

  The minister shrugged. “I suppose she’s misdirecting all that childhood anger.”

  “She picked a hell of a way to do it,” Heinrich said, pouring the coffee.

  “What can I do to help?” the minister asked. Heinrich heard an edge of desperation in the question.

  Heinrich shifted uncomfortably and handed him a cup of coffee. “Well, to be honest, Mr. Murphy, I think you’ll just be in the way. You have no investigative skills and it’s not like you can blend in with the crowd I have to deal with.”

  “I have to do something. My granddaughter is being exploited!”

  Heinrich bit his lip. This happened sometimes, especially in cases that involved children. The client couldn’t sit back and let him do his job. Not that he blamed them. If he were in David’s position, he’d feel the same way.

  “You’ve already been a great help with your funding,” Heinrich said, knowing that wouldn’t placate him.

  “I couldn’t sit back home and do nothing. Brixton wanted to come but he would have been more trouble than help.”

  So are you, Heinrich thought, but yeah, he would have been worse. He considered an idea for a moment. “You can come with us to Delft.”

  “Us?”

  “That woman I mentioned, Britt. She’s coming along, too. I think she has some demons she needs to exorcize. I tried to talk her out of it but she’s not the kind of person who takes no for an answer.”

  “It takes a degenerate to catch a degenerate, eh?” David said with a bitter smile.

  “She’s not a degenerate,” Heinrich snapped.

  David Murphy raised a placating hand. “Judge not lest ye be judged. Matthew 7:1. All right, Mr. Müller. Point taken. I’ll tolerate this person if you think she can help. At this point, I’d call the dictator of North Korea if I thought he could get Arizona back.”

  “She’s not as bad as all that. Oh, and she identifies as a man, so call her a he.”

  “I’ll try to remember. And you try to remember that yourself. You keep referring to her as a woman.”

  “Oh, right.”

  They met Britt at Amsterdam’s bustling central train station, where they boarded a clean, modern train that shot through the flat Dutch countryside in the direction of Delft. As they made the journey, Britt told them about her plan.

  “I’ve already called and scheduled a screen test. I know a few people in the BDSM community who have done screen tests for adult films. Usually, they have you go through a few moves with a couple of the stock actors and actresses. If I’m lucky, I’ll meet Casey at the screen test. If not, I’m hoping they’ll want to make a film and I’ll meet her on set.”

  “But what if you don’t get in a film? What if they don’t schedule it for another month? We need to save Ariz
ona now!” David Murphy cried.

  “Please keep your voice down,” Heinrich said, looking around the train carriage. “It’s a good plan, but yeah, it could fail in a bunch of ways. In the meantime, we can do some investigating. I looked up Delft. It’s not a big town. Just 100,000 people. If we search long enough, we’re bound to spot them.”

  “Casey isn’t the kind of girl who stays away from nightlife,” her father-in-law said. “Tonight we’ll search every bar, every nightclub.”

  “I couldn’t find any sex clubs in Delft,” Heinrich said. “Do you know of any, Britt?”

  “No. Everyone goes to Amsterdam. It’s so close and it has everything. The people in Delft are pretty conservative, anyway.”

  Heinrich chuckled. “Conservative by Dutch standards maybe. I noticed there are plenty of gay bars and hash cafés.”

  “She wouldn’t be in any of the gay bars,” David said. “She hates homosexual men, probably because she doesn’t have any hold over them. The hash cafés would be a good bet.”

  “You have to be eighteen to go inside one,” Britt told him. “She wouldn’t be able to bring the child there.”

  David Murphy shook his head sadly. “Then she’d leave Arizona at home alone. She’s done that many times.”

  The train pulled into Delft. It was a beautiful day. The sun shone on the tall spires of the city’s two medieval churches and sparkled off the river that ran through town. Heinrich felt it was a shame to waste such a day searching for an idiot like Casey while dealing with a bunch of scumbag pornographers. He imagined spending the day showing Jan the sights. The kid had grown up in a grim Soviet-era concrete apartment bloc in a hick Polish town and had never gotten much culture. A trip around a place like Delft would do him good.

  Except he’d try to sneak into the hash bars, so maybe The Netherlands wasn’t such a good idea.

  Heinrich tried to focus on the task at hand. Amazing how that little punk kept entering his thoughts when he was facing the world’s grim reality.

  Heinrich handed Britt the photo of Casey and Arizona he’d had printed. She’d studied it before, but Heinrich wanted her to take another good look at it.