‘Nancy, this wasn’t how it was.’ From the impact of the bullet, we had been able to trace exactly where the gunman had been. There was no need to go into those details. ‘The gunman was much further to the left. He was actually really close to the second witness. You weren’t here, but much more here.’ I drew for her what the forensic evidence had shown.
‘You’re saying I lied?’
‘You didn’t lie. You misremembered. That’s a very different thing. It’s hard to remember exactly what happened, especially during such a traumatic event as the murder of your boyfriend.’ I could have added that many witnesses were so glued to the sight of a weapon that they never even looked at the attacker’s face. That could have happened to Nancy and she could have filled in the gap in her knowledge with the face of the man she’d seen earlier in the evening.
Nancy looked at Carlo’s mother and pointed with a trembling finger at the drawing. ‘That was how it happened,’ she said. ‘I swear that’s how it was.’
Anke avoided Nancy’s eyes and instead looked at me. ‘You didn’t question it at the time.’
I bowed my head. I’d checked in the files and I hadn’t found a drawing. ‘I know. That’s my fault. I should have asked Nancy to draw it back then and I never did. I was as certain as she was.’
Anke put her arm around Nancy’s shoulder. ‘And what’s going to happen now?’
‘Now that we know that two murders were committed with the same weapon, we’re going to reopen both cases.’
Anke threw me a sharp look. ‘But Nancy is no longer a credible witness. Is that what you’re saying? Is that what Sandra has achieved?’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
She got up from the chair quickly, took Nancy’s hand and dragged her out of the room behind her.
I stayed where I was. I’d been worried about what kind of punishment the boss was going to give me, but it couldn’t be any worse than this guilt I was feeling.
When he called me into his office ten minutes later, I knew I’d been right. Because even whilst I was being told that I had to stay away from Ruud Klaver’s family, all I could think about was the grief and pain I’d caused Carlo’s family by going on that podcast.
When Moerdijk had finished with me, Remco called. He wanted to talk to me; could I come to the house tomorrow morning? I suggested we meet at the same place where we’d talked last time, but he said he didn’t have enough time to go there. When I explained that I’d been told to stay away from the family, he said that he’d make sure his mother was out. I tried to get him to meet me anywhere other than at their house, but he insisted. It would be quick, he said. He had to tell me something before he headed home to Dubai.
I left the office early and went over to Mark’s place. It said something about the whirl that my mind was in that the sparse decoration of his house was perfect for me. It soothed my head. As soon as I stepped over the threshold, he enveloped me in a hug. I felt bad that I hadn’t wanted to see him last night. That I hadn’t been able to listen to the podcast in his company. There was a certain pain that was more bearable when you were by yourself. He held me until the clock in the kitchen started to beep and demanded his attention instead.
No longer being wrapped in his arms, I felt cold and vulnerable suddenly. I started to develop a real dislike for that oven clock. I followed Mark to the kitchen, where he had been summoned to take the lasagne out of the oven.
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘it’s a little basic. But there’s garlic bread and a salad too.’
‘That’s great. Thanks for cooking.’
‘Can you open this?’ He handed me a bottle of Chianti and a corkscrew. He knew that was my favourite job. As he divided the lasagne in half, I pulled the foil from around the neck of the bottle and eased the cork out, then poured the wine.
We sat down to eat.
‘Are you in a lot of trouble?’
At least he had waited until I’d drunk half my glass of wine before he asked me about the podcast. He probably thought I needed the alcohol to take the edge off.
‘Yes. I shouldn’t have done it. I should have worked it out for myself. I knew it was going to be bad for me, but I hadn’t appreciated how awful it would be for Carlo Sondervelt’s family. Especially Nancy.’
‘Did you talk to her?’
I swirled the wine round in my glass. ‘She came to see me. With Carlo’s mother. She’s still adamant that she saw Ruud Klaver.’
‘How is she?’
‘Very upset. I don’t know if it’s because deep inside she’s starting to doubt herself, or because now people will think that Ruud Klaver was innocent.’
‘How are his family?’
‘Odd. I spoke to Remco. He seemed surprisingly fine. And then I got shouted at by Dennis. That was much more in line with expectations. But I don’t know what to do.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, now that his father has passed away, I don’t know what’s right any more.’
‘Find his murderer, I guess.’
I shook my head. ‘I’m off that case. At Dennis Klaver’s request.’
‘Then maybe you should just stay away from them.’
‘I guess. I’ve promised to meet Remco tomorrow, and that will be it.’ I wanted to tell Mark that this was actually the least of my worries. I sighed.
‘Is that smart?’
‘Probably not. I’ve had an official warning. I might get myself sacked this time. So I guess the answer is: no. I don’t trust that family. Maybe I’m being set up.’
‘That’s okay. You can come and live here and cook for me.’ He grinned to tell me it was only a joke.
‘My cooking is terrible. You’d hate me within a week.’
‘Okay, you can live here and I’ll cook.’
‘Maybe.’ I finished my glass of wine and filled it up again. Mark had hardly touched his. ‘If I get sacked, I’ll consider it.’
It was after midnight when I cycled back to my own flat. I would have loved to stay the night, but I had a cat to feed.
In the darkness, I wondered what I was going to do. Mark and I might have joked about me getting sacked, but there were other ways of being punished that weren’t quite that blatant. So why was I even considering meeting with Remco tomorrow?
My mother would say that I was secretly trying to sabotage myself. That I wanted to live with Mark and give up my job. It clearly wasn’t that. Even in my imagination she managed to annoy me.
I had to push hard on the pedals to move my bike against the storm. The wind blew any exhalation away within seconds.
I fed Mrs Puss, who meowed at me with a sound that managed to convey gratitude and annoyance at the same time. I cleared out her litter tray and fell into bed.
Even though I’d been drinking, sleep wouldn’t come. Mrs Puss jumped onto the bed, curled up beside me and started to purr, but tonight it didn’t comfort me. All I could think was that I’d put an innocent man in prison, an innocent man who was now dead. The only redeeming feature was that I hadn’t known. I had been convinced that Ruud Klaver was guilty.
I turned onto my other side. I’d caused so much pain to the victim’s family by going on that podcast. I was trying to make things right but I just kept adding to my guilt list. After my talk with Remco, I realised that my failure to stop Dennis hadn’t simply put Barry in a wheelchair; it had damaged Dennis as well. It had had a bigger impact on him than I’d realised. There had to be a way to make amends.
Chapter 28
The next morning, it was windy but it was no longer raining. I had a couple of hours before my meeting with Remco Klaver. It seemed prudent not to go into the office. I sat in my front room for ten minutes and looked out over the canal. My shoulders itched with a desire to do something. All night I had been wondering who was giving Sandra her information and had helped her compare the bullets. There was one straightforward way to find out, and that was to go to her house and ask her about it.
Clearly it wasn’t a par
ticularly clever solution, but when had I ever cared about that? Sandra would just play her little mind game and I’d pay the price. Even if I was supposed to stay away from Ruud Klaver’s case and his family, nobody had told me to stay away from Right to Justice. Apart from the Commissaris saying he was keeping an eye on me, of course. I had made this mess and I should go clear it up.
I quickly fed Pippi, then rushed down the stairs and grabbed my bike. I would record our conversation on my phone and that would help me with the boss.
The weather agreed with my approach, because it still wasn’t raining by the time I got to Sandra’s house. I should have used the cycling time to think of smart ways to ask my questions, but my thoughts were whirling so quickly in my head that I still hadn’t thought of anything when I rang the doorbell. So when she opened the door, I simply said, ‘Who is it?’
‘Who’s what?’ She had an annoying smile on her face, as if she knew exactly why I was here.
‘Who’s talking to you? Who do you get your information from?’
‘Surely you don’t expect me to tell you?’
‘You’re interfering with an ongoing police investigation,’ I said.
‘If it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t even have known to look in this direction.’
‘I know that. Trust me, I do. But we’re trying to solve Ruud Klaver’s murder.’
‘I heard you were no longer on that case.’
Anger coursed through my veins. I had to control my voice. ‘Please stop broadcasting this kind of information.’
As if the weather thought it ought to give me a hand cooling down, just then the heavens opened. The downpour was as heavy and sudden as a cold shower.
‘Come in,’ Sandra said. ‘Don’t stand out in the rain.’
‘I’ve said what I wanted to say.’
‘I’m not going to stop.’
It was pure stubbornness that kept me standing outside in the downpour. That Sandra Ngo was so young made this conversation even more annoying. ‘You have someone inside the police force who feeds you information. I understand. This is exciting. I understand that too. It gets you a lot of listeners. I get all of that. But please stop.’
‘Inside the police force? Are you sure?’
Not inside? Then who? Who would know otherwise?
Barry. The name came to me immediately. What had he said he was doing? Some consulting work? Was he working for Right to Justice? I kept my face impassive and tried not to show how betrayed I felt. Rain started to drip down my nose. I wiped it away.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to come in?’ She looked at her watch. ‘If you’re soaked, you won’t have time to change. You’re meeting Remco Klaver in half an hour, right?’
‘You know that?’
‘His mother told me.’
Angela wasn’t supposed to know. And why had she told Sandra? Maybe I shouldn’t go to the meeting. Maybe I really was being set up. ‘What would it take for you to stop broadcasting?’
‘Come in. That would be a good start.’
A thin trickle of rain ran between my neck and the collar of my coat. It was that that made me change my mind. Not that Sandra had me backed into a corner. I stepped over the threshold.
The last time, I’d gone down the stairs into the basement. Now I followed Sandra into a living room. ‘Let me get you a towel,’ she said.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Tell me,’ she said. ‘Tell me why I should stop making these podcasts.’
‘I said the wrong thing. You don’t need to stop them. Just don’t talk about information that’s still crucial to our investigation.’
‘You wouldn’t have found the connection between the two murders without me.’
‘I know that. I’m very aware of it. But you’re putting people’s lives at risk. Carlo Sondervelt and Maarten Hageman were probably both killed by the same people. Maybe they killed Ruud Klaver too. Three murders. These are dangerous criminals.’
‘You’re doing this for my own good?’
‘Yours?’ A drop of water ran from my hair down onto my forehead. I wiped it away. Who needs a towel when you’ve got a perfectly good coat sleeve? ‘I hadn’t even thought about you.’
‘They could kill me for all you care.’ Sandra laughed. ‘At least you’re honest.’
‘I’m worried about the people who witnessed the original fight: Nancy and Tristan. I’m worried about Ruud’s family. Plus, if they know the direction we’re looking in, they’ll know what we’re going to do and it will help them.’
‘So, what deal are you going to offer me?’
‘Deal? I wasn’t going to offer you a deal.’
‘You did last time.’
‘I’ll find out who your informer is. In fact I’ve got a pretty good idea already.’
‘I was right last time.’
‘You were. Well done. Now stop putting things in the podcast that hinder our investigation.’
‘I don’t know what would hinder it. Maybe you should keep me more informed. If you come here to brief me, I’ll know what to leave out.’
‘Send me your podcast a couple of hours before broadcast. If there’s anything in there that shouldn’t become public knowledge, I’ll let you know.’
‘That’s not going to work.’
‘Okay.’ I moved towards the door. ‘I’ll get a total ban then. I didn’t want to do that, but you leave me no choice.’
‘I’m going to see Angela Klaver,’ Sandra said. ‘Do you want a lift?’
‘No, I’m fine.’
She made a show of studying the outside. ‘It’s raining hard. You’ll be soaked before you get there, and I’m going in that direction anyway. Put your bike in the boot.’
I rang the doorbell of Angela Klaver’s house. Nobody came to the door. I looked at my watch. I was ten minutes early, but I’d thought Remco wouldn’t mind. I rang the bell again. The house stayed silent. I rang Remco’s mobile but he didn’t pick up.
I took a couple of steps back so that I could look up to the first-floor window, but I didn’t see anybody. There was a buzzing noise beside me. Sandra opened her car window. ‘Are they not here?’
‘I think Remco’s decided not to talk to me.’ More than ever I wondered if I was being set up. Maybe the best thing to do was to leave as quickly as I could, before anybody saw me.
‘I can give you a lift back?’
And having Sandra Ngo give me a lift here had clearly been stupid. ‘Weren’t you meeting Angela?’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe I made that up.’
‘I’ll wait.’ I said. If this was some kind of trap, I’d already stepped into it. I might as well wait it out. I hoped that Remco was on his way. ‘Just in case he’s popped out for a few minutes.’
‘Do you want to get back in the car?’
‘No, I’m okay.’ I looked for a dry place to stand. There was a small overhang by the garage door that would keep the worst of the rain off. I leaned with my back against the blue door and was vaguely sheltered.
Then, from behind the door, I thought I heard something. A soft sound. A one-tone hum. Was it the sound of a car engine running? Had Remco decided at the last minute that he was going to drive away without talking to me?
I would wait here until he came out. I could stop him as he was driving off. ‘Remco,’ I shouted. ‘Just give me a few minutes. Let’s talk.’
I stood looking at the garage door, expecting it to tilt up, but there was no movement.
I banged on the door. ‘Open up. Don’t be like this.’ I put my ear against it. The engine was still running.
I banged more loudly. There were no exhaust fumes coming from under the door. I called Angela’s mobile but wasn’t surprised that she didn’t answer my call.
Something was wrong here.
Behind me, a car door opened and slammed shut again. ‘What’s going on?’ Sandra said.
I kneeled down on the ground in front of the garage. I could just get my fingers underneath the door,
but the concrete floor scraped the back of them. I felt something soft. The gap at the bottom of the door was blocked up from the inside. A blanket? I prodded it. It moved. The first step should be to make that gap bigger so that the fumes would leave the garage. That would buy me time to bash the door in.
The storm had torn plenty of branches from the trees in front of the house. By my left hand was a stick that seemed roughly the right size. I thrust it through the gap between the door and the floor and felt the cloth move. I pushed it sideways and fumes gushed out from underneath the door like water through a breach in a dyke. I pushed my fingers through the slit and pulled hard. The door didn’t budge. ‘Call an ambulance!’ I shouted at Sandra. ‘Carbon monoxide poisoning.’
‘Ah, shit,’ she said, but she started dialling.
For a second it crossed my mind that the family would not be happy if I destroyed their garage door. Was I overreacting? Then I thought that with all the trouble I was in with them, a broken garage door was going to be the least of my problems.
I needed to get whoever was in the car out as soon as possible. My heart was pounding. What was easiest? Quickest?
I got my gun out and fired four quick rounds around the garage door lock.
‘Jesus!’ Sandra shouted.
I yanked the door. It didn’t open. ‘Help me pull!’
She dropped her phone and crouched beside me. Both of us put our full weight into trying to prise the door open. I heard Sandra’s heavy breathing and saw her shoes slip on the wet concrete. The sharp edge of the metal door cut into my fingers. The muscles in my upper arms felt as if they were straining to breaking point.
Then there was a sound like chalk on a board as the metal tore and sheared off around the lock. The door gave and swung upwards.
I ducked under it and rushed to the car. I could see Remco inside. His eyes were closed. I grabbed the door handle and pulled hard, nearly falling backwards when it opened easily.
Remco slumped sideways. I caught him. His lips were cherry red and his skin was pinker than it had been before. I grabbed him under the armpits and tried to pull him out of the dark Mercedes. Sandra quickly killed the engine, gripped Remco’s belt and helped me drag him from the seat. She took hold of his legs and together we carried him into the open air.
A Death in Rembrandt Square Page 19
