But Tanya knew different.
And now she was going to do something about it. But just as she opened the door and stepped out a green car, some kind of hatchback with wooden panels on the sides, drew up alongside him, and after a few words with the driver, Staal got in.
Tanya stood in the wedge between her car and the open door, her hand on the metal roof, a thin layer of grime rough under her fingertips, and watched as the car indicated and moved off.
Life went on around her: a motorbike roared by, a group of kids ran down the street shouting, the sun shifted its position closer to the North Sea, shadows crept along the ground, lengthening, reaching out for her.
She felt hot suddenly, a prickling which exploded on her neck and rose up to her face. She turned round, legs unsteady, crouched down and vomited right on to the black asphalt.
Her eyes were closed. She felt splashback on her face.
Back in the car – she was thinking she should clear up her sick but didn’t have anything to do it with – she fired up the motor, indicated, checked the mirrors and pulled out slowly, each action deliberate, each movement taking her whole focus.
Minutes later the noise of a car horn being hit repeatedly settled in her mind. She noticed she was stopped at a light, showing green, the man’s face in the car behind distorted with anger. She waited until the light changed, then shot the car forward.
If he jumps it I’ll book him, she thought, checking the rear-view mirror. He didn’t. He just flicked her a middle finger.
She was able to breathe again now even though everything was looking weird; familiar and totally alien at the same time – her hands clasped on the wheel, the blue sticker in the corner of the windscreen – all things she’d seen before, and yet she felt like she was seeing them through someone else’s eyes.
Her phone was buzzing on the seat next to her. She glanced across and saw it was the station. She had a murder investigation on, and here she was dealing with her personal life. Or not dealing with it.
Tomorrow, she thought as she reached over for the phone, tomorrow I’m going to do it.
14
Saturday, 8 May
20.28
Jaap handed Tanya the photo Roemers had found on the second victim’s phone.
‘I don’t get it,’ she said after a few moments.
She was looking stressed, the muscles in her face tense, and Jaap didn’t want to add to it.
But she needed to know.
Jaap glanced around the houseboat, at the nihonto hanging on the wall. It had been given to him by Yuzuki Roshi, his old tutor in Kyoto, when he’d left Japan. He looked at the elegant curve of the blade, the wave-like patterns undulating across the steel, and tried not to picture it plunged into Karin’s stomach. He’d wanted to get rid of it after her death, but when it came to throwing it out he’d felt torn, unable to make up his mind.
It was the weapon which had killed her. The steel – hand-honed by an artisan using knowledge and skill passed down over hundreds of years – severing flesh so she bled to death.
But although he ’d wanted to chuck it into the canal, he felt to throw it out would, in some odd way, be a betrayal of her.
He’d taken it down, ready to do it, but had found himself reaching for the I Ching and throwing the coins instead.
Wind over Water.
DISPERSE HARD ATTITUDES WITH GENTLENESS.
Then he’d put it back on the wall.
‘Look, the case I’m on, the two headless bodies? The first one had a picture of me on his phone – he’d taken it this morning as I walked across Dam Square. The second one, Teeven, I put away for murder years ago. And he had these.’ He pushed the receipts, jumbled in an evidence bag, across the table to her. He noticed a spot of dried food on the table’s old wooden surface and tried to rub it off with his finger.
A boat made up to look like a clog motored past, all yellow plastic and a web address where you could book it. Waves slapped the hull. The houseboat rocked, making the glasses in the cupboard chime like an avant-garde music box.
Tanya was looking at the receipts, which Jaap had catalogued earlier. From the times on each one Teeven had been there for the last five days, and quite possibly for most of each day. She breathed out and handed them back.
‘And this was the same guy who had this picture, of me? The one you arrested years ago?’
Jaap didn’t want it to be. But it was.
‘Yeah.’
They’d been seeing each other for over six months now, and she’d moved in not long after, though she still hadn’t given up paying the rent on her flat up in Amsterdam Noord. He’d said she should, but then dropped it when she’d clammed up on the subject. It was the sensible move from her point of view, he could see that, but it did make him feel that maybe he was into the relationship more than she was.
The problem was probably his daughter, Floortje. He and Saskia had worked out a childcare plan, splitting it as equally as possible, though recently Saskia’d had to do more than her fair share, as had Tanya on occasion. Tanya said she didn’t mind looking after Floortje when she could, but Jaap wasn’t so sure.
It can’t be easy, he thought. Looking after another woman’s child.
And he’d noticed a change in Tanya over the last few weeks. He was worried it was getting too much for her, that maybe she was deciding being with him was too complicated.
When she’d announced she was going away for a break with some friends, friends he’d never met, he got even more concerned.
Would she make a decision about them while she was away, egged on perhaps by the people she was going to be with?
‘And Teeven always claimed he was innocent?’ she said, breaking into his thoughts.
‘Right the way through. And the actual evidence was pretty shaky, a couple of fairly unreliable witnesses. But I’d interviewed him at least four times, and I was sure he was involved.’
Tanya frowned and looked out the porthole to Jaap’s left. He noticed a freckle he’d not seen before, just up by her ear.
‘But not necessarily the only one?’
Jaap tried to think back to the case. He’d been younger then, not just in years, but in experience, in outlook. When the chance to join the murder squad had come up he’d made sure he got the place. He remembered feeling on his first day that he had something to prove. And getting such a high-profile case seven months in was just what he’d needed to get him noticed.
Was I wrong? he wondered. Did I let my ambition get in the way?
‘Hey, you still there?’ asked Tanya.
Jaap shook his head.
‘Yeah, sorry. I was thinking.’
‘I could tell – the grinding sound was awful.’
She flashed him a smile but it faded fast.
‘I pulled the file earlier and went through it, just to see if there was anything.’
‘Was there?’
‘No, pretty much as I remembered it,’ he said. ‘But the thing is, if he was innocent and wanted to get back at me, then how come he’s the one who’s dead?’
Tanya got up and walked over to the galley kitchen. She cranked the tap, water hissed into the glass she’d picked up, and she turned back to face him, leaning against the work surface. She hugged herself with one arm and raised the glass to her mouth with the other.
‘And the first guy, how’s he connected?’ she finally asked.
‘I don’t know. That’s the thing – none of this makes any sense.’
‘Maybe he was another one, like they met up in prison and found they both harboured a grudge against you?’
‘It’s really comforting talking to you, you know that?’
Tanya finished the water, rinsed the glass and put it upside down on the drainer. Drips ran down its surface, lines of distortion.
Jaap looked out a porthole across the water to the far side of the canal, where the elm trees had Parkinson’s, leaves trembling quietly in the pale dusk. His phone buzzed on the table, moving c
loser to the edge with each burst of vibration. It was Ballistics.
‘The gun you asked for a report on has got a history,’ said the woman, once Jaap had answered. ‘We’ve got a match on a case going back quite a few years.’
‘What was the case?’ asked Jaap.
‘It’s old so the full report isn’t on our system, but I’ve got the case number here. You can probably access it.’
Jaap took it down and hung up, told Tanya what he’d learned.
‘I don’t like this,’ she said. ‘The photos then this gun …’
She trailed off, head to one side, pressing an earlobe between her thumb and forefinger.
‘I was wondering about telling Smit,’ said Jaap. ‘Whatever this is … well … I don’t want you to get hurt. And he owes us. We kept quiet for him over the whole Black Tulips thing.’
‘It wasn’t for him we kept quiet, it was for Floortje. And that was right, you couldn’t have done anything else. But if you tell Smit about this he’s just going to put some idiot on it.’
She looked straight at him. Jaap was struck by her face, something there he couldn’t read.
‘Jaap, I’d feel safer if you stayed working on this. And you said the tweet mentioned another killing? So that means there might be someone else linked to the first two victims. And what if he’s been watching you – watching us – as well?’
‘This is your safety, our safety, we’re talking about here. I think we need to take it more seriously.’
‘I am taking it seriously,’ she said, moving away from the kitchen. ‘That’s why I said what I said. I can’t figure out what the hell is going on either, but no one else at the station is going to do any better than us.’
A bike bell tinkled on the canal edge. Jaap turned and saw wheels rush past a landward porthole.
‘I thought you had your own case to run?’
‘I do, but this seems a bit more important now,’ she said, glancing away.
He moved around, trying to catch her eyes.
‘Okay. I’ve got a couple more things to check out, but if I haven’t got anywhere by tomorrow then I’m going to have to talk to Smit.’
She nodded, then looked right at him.
‘There’s something I’ve got to tell you,’ she said.
It’s not working for her, the thought detonated in his head. She wants to leave me.
He didn’t want to hear it.
He wanted to stop her talking, but he couldn’t think of anything to say, any way of heading off the moment.
15
Saturday, 8 May
20.43
‘There’s something I’ve got to tell you,’ said Tanya.
She’d gone back to the desk sergeant, got the older logs she needed then double-checked them. Then she triple-checked them.
But each time the answer came back the same.
Kees.
Of all people.
How had it turned out that her only suspect was not only a colleague, but one she’d actually slept with?
Their relationship back at the academy hadn’t lasted long, but she had the feeling Kees had taken it badly when she ended it.
Not that I can really blame him, she thought. He got a rough deal, like all the others.
She suddenly felt angry, all her relationships failing because of her. Or because of what she’d become, what Staal had turned her into.
And now she’d decided to confront him she’d got stuck on a case. Seeing her foster father earlier had opened up something inside her, and she wasn’t sure it was ever going to close again.
She needed to focus on the case, put all thoughts of him out of her head. She was going to deal with that tomorrow.
Jaap was looking at her, and she was about to tell him about Kees but then changed her mind. She knew Jaap had been trying to foster a working relationship with Kees, and he probably wouldn’t take the news well.
I need to know for sure before I tell him, she thought.
‘You okay?’ asked Jaap.
‘Sorry, I was just thinking … Look, I’ve got to go, I just realized there’s something I forgot to check.’
‘Your case?’
He looked relived. Concerned as well.
Why can’t I just tell him about my past? she thought as she answered him. Why is that so difficult?
‘Yeah. You heard the guy who pushed the woman was wearing a police jacket, right? I can’t believe it’s one of us.’
Despite having made the decision not to, she still wanted to tell him about Kees.
‘Could be anyone, you can probably buy a police jacket like that online.’
‘Yeah,’ said Tanya. ‘You’re right. But then the question is, who would want to make it look like it was done by a police officer?’
‘Someone who hates the police as much as Teeven must have hated me,’ said Jaap.
He stood up and walked over to her, putting his hands on her waist. She could feel his touch, the calm firmness with which he always held her.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘Until I’ve got this thing under control you’ll be careful, right?’
‘Sure,’ she said, kissing him. ‘I’ll be careful.’
And for a moment it felt good, just being there with him. As if there was nothing else. But the moment passed.
It always did.
He was leaving too, following up on something, but she got out first, heading back to the station. She was going to have to tell Smit about Kees. He’d left a message requesting an update on her case. Once she did that it would be pretty much over for Kees.
She wasn’t sure how that made her feel.
Just as she walked off her phone rang. It was Piet, and he’d found two homeless people who knew the victim from Centraal.
‘Shall I bring them in?’ he asked once he’d explained how he’d discovered them.
‘Are you with them now?’
‘No, but I know where they’re staying tonight. This homeless shelter, out towards Westerpark.’
‘I’m going there now,’ she said and hung up after she’d taken their names and the address. She then left a message for Smit, saying she was following up a lead.
By the time she pulled into the street twenty minutes later, colour was starting to fade from the sky, blue leaching down to dirty pink.
To her right was the Vredenhof cemetery, graves shielded from view by a line of tall trees. On her left was a row of single-storey industrial units, mostly overflow from the Centraal Markt just to the south. Midway along was the place she was looking for, judging by the clothes of the two people entering via a sliding steel door.
Inside was sparse, a warehouse with a polished concrete floor and blue plastic mats laid out in rows. One of the far corners housed a cluster of white plastic tables and chairs. A collection of people bent over food, intent on eating.
Tanya didn’t need to see their clothes, or even the situation they were in to know they were homeless; their postures and movements said it all.
Some of the blue mats were taken already, people settling in for the night. She looked at the nearest, a man, hard to age, lying on his side with a collection of crushed drinks cans next to him on the floor. There must have been at least twenty, all flattened down to the same height. At first she thought he was asleep, but he suddenly spoke to her, his eyes only just open.
‘They’re mine,’ he said in a voice twisted with drink. ‘So just fuck off.’
‘Can I help?’ said a voice behind her.
She turned to see a young woman with blonde dreads, one of them dyed pink, and a sliver nose ring. She wore an oversized ethnic jacket and baggy patchwork trousers, and if it hadn’t been for the clarity of her eyes Tanya would have put her down as homeless too.
‘Do you run this place?’ she asked, getting her ID out and showing it.
‘I’m just a volunteer, I generally do a night a week,’ said the woman, scrutinizing Tanya’s badge. ‘Sometimes I’ll do more if need be.’
‘I’m lookin
g for a couple of people, Katja and Tijmen.’
The woman looked around, then pointed to the back.
‘That’s them, the table on the far left. They’re usually drunk, but they seemed to be relatively sober when I gave them their sandwiches earlier.’
Tanya made her way over; they both looked up as she approached.
Though hard to age – their lifestyle had taken its toll – she pegged them both around mid-forties. The woman had hair like steel wool, while the man was completely bald. By the way his eyes were bulging it looked like there was too much internal pressure in his head.
Tanya introduced herself. They carried on eating their sandwiches, and Tanya got a waft of too-old tuna, heard the soft, sticky mastication of processed white bread.
‘You’re the inspector?’ asked Katja when she’d finished, dabbing at her plastic plate with a moistened finger to get the last crumbs.
‘Yeah. My colleague said you knew the woman who was killed this morning at the station?’
‘We knew her all right,’ said Tijmen. ‘Filthy bitch, she was.’
The phrase jolted Tanya. It was what her foster father used to say to her once he’d finished. He’d tell her she was a filthy bitch with a look of disgust on his face, and then order her to clean herself up.
‘You’re a filthy bitch, not her,’ said Katja to Tijmen. ‘And I won’t have that kind of language.’
Tanya pulled out a photo of the woman on the tracks whilst trying to suppress all thought, feeling a cascade of sickness run through her body.
‘Okay, you filthy bitch,’ replied Tijmen, a blob of half-chewed white bread and tuna flying from his lips and arcing down to the table. He grinned before scooping it up with a finger and popping it back in his mouth.
‘Don’t mind him,’ said Katja. ‘He’s always like this. Doesn’t mean anything by it. Just a delinquent by nature.’
‘So what,’ said Tanya, not wishing to get drawn into a domestic, ‘can you tell me about her?’
Katja looked at the photo.
‘Why she was killed, you mean? That’s easy. I know why she was killed, she’d got a job, spying on someone. And she got paid for it and everything. She even showed me the money she was getting.’
Into the Night: Inspector Rykel Book 2 (Amsterdam Quartet) Page 7
