‘We have a confession. We have the motive. The forensic evidence agrees with Katja’s version of events. We’re not reopening this case just because a woman said something at a funeral. Plus nobody is saying that Katja didn’t kill him, right?’
‘But that photo has been bothering me from the beginning. If Katja killed the wrong man, then who was the right man? If she killed him to protect the child, this child is still in danger.’
‘No.’
‘No?’ That was all? That was all he was going to say? ‘What do you mean, “no”? No, the child isn’t in danger? No, Katja didn’t kill the wrong man?’
‘I meant: no, we’re not looking into this again. That other dealer’s case is going to court in a couple of weeks. I want to protect the conviction. I’m grateful for the work you’ve done on solving Piotr Mazur’s murder and ensuring my other case didn’t fall apart, but now you need to leave this alone. If we had locked up an innocent person, that would have been different.’
I still thought we had locked up the wrong person.
‘We’re not going to follow up on what this woman said.’ Bauer’s tone was final.
I shook my head. This wasn’t what being a police officer was about. If there was a child potentially still in danger, how could I ignore that? Even if I didn’t yet know the identity of that child, how could I stand here and be happy that we’d solved another case? If I did that, then what was the point of it all?
I left the office because I knew there was no arguing with Bauer. Instead I sent Tim a text and asked him to join me for a coffee in the canteen.
He came down only minutes later. ‘No, Lotte,’ he said without even sitting down. ‘You know I can’t help you. I’m not going to go against Bauer. I’ve finally done something he approves of and I’m not going to risk that for a wild goose chase. If you had some concrete evidence …’ He scratched his head. ‘No, I have to be honest with you. Even if you had concrete evidence, I probably wouldn’t help you.’
‘You don’t care that a child is in danger?’
‘You don’t know that. A woman said something at a funeral and now you have to go running off like crazy and potentially damage the trial of someone who’s killed six people? What do you think is more important?’
I looked at him in silence for a second. ‘Protecting someone is more important than putting someone in prison.’
‘Think about what you’re saying. You don’t believe that.’ It almost looked as if he felt sorry for me. ‘We didn’t find any evidence of a child. Piotr didn’t have a child. Katja didn’t have a child. She used a photo from Facebook. We only have Natalie’s word for it, and she made up the story that she was sleeping with Piotr Mazur, remember? She isn’t exactly credible. So now you’re suggesting that we should put a trial at risk because of something a known liar is saying?’
‘And you’re not going to help me, because Bauer is finally happy with something you’ve done.’
‘And because I think it’s the right thing to do!’
‘I get it.’
‘I’m not sure you do. But that doesn’t matter. I can’t help you.’ He walked away. I wanted to shout after him that he’d only managed to do something that Bauer approved of because I had helped him. That maybe he owed me something.
It didn’t matter. There was someone else who owed me something. Who kept telling me that she owed me a big favour for saving her life.
I calmly finished my coffee before I went back to my office.
Thomas had gone out but Ingrid was waiting for me. She stared at me as I entered the room. ‘Tim just told me,’ she said.
‘Told you what?’
‘He said that you would probably come to me.’
‘We need to look for this child.’
‘No. No, we shouldn’t. It was Natalie Schuurman who told you, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes. So what?’
‘So you accept a story told by a woman who lied to us before.’
‘But it makes sense! You know Piotr had that photo on him. You know this bothered me from the start.’
‘A photo that Katja Bruyneel just pulled from Facebook.’ She put a hand on my arm. ‘Lotte, be honest with yourself. If this wasn’t something that fitted with your theory – your preoccupation – you wouldn’t have believed it either. You want to believe this. You want to think there’s a child out there that you can save from whatever is threatening him.’ She closed her eyes for a second.
To be fair to her, I would later think, she hesitated before ploughing on. Before stabbing in the knife so deep.
‘You’re obsessed with saving children,’ she said, ‘because of your daughter.’
Even though I’d had an inkling of what she was going to say, I felt sick. ‘I saved your life and this is how you repay me?’ I could barely get the words out. ‘By siding with your new boyfriend? Because to look into this more closely could ruin the one time that Bauer thinks he’s done something right?’ I grabbed my handbag. ‘And then you dare to talk about my motives. How about you examine your own?’
I almost ran out of the office.
‘Lotte,’ Ingrid shouted after me, ‘Lotte, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so sorry.’
I walked along the corridor to CI Moerdijk’s office.
‘I know why you’re here,’ the boss said. ‘Bauer just called me.’
Everybody had been quicker off the mark on this than me. ‘Please,’ I said.
‘I’m sorry, Lotte, we can’t.’The boss looked surprised that I had asked it as a favour rather than demanding that we keep investigating. ‘We have a confession and it matches up with the forensic evidence.’
‘It’s a false confession.’
‘That’s just your opinion. And this woman who killed Piotr Mazur says she did it purely to avenge her sister’s death,’ he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘I don’t want you to do anything that jeopardises either of Bauer’s cases.’
‘And that’s the only thing that’s important?’
‘It’s key at the moment.’
I shook my head. ‘This is wrong.’
‘Take the rest of the day off, Lotte. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
I listened to him. I left the police station. Why would I want to spend the day with people who had all betrayed me even though I’d helped them?
Instead I went home.
It was in this state of mind that I couldn’t refuse Ronald a huge favour when he asked for one.
Chapter Twenty-Four
An hour and a long phone call later, Ronald and I were driving in my car to Alkmaar. It had been more than a week since I’d been there to see my father.
Ronald gave me the directions to get to his ex-wife’s house. He was hyper, probably because he couldn’t have had more than four hours’ sleep, and he told me story after story about his kids until he drove me crazy. He had this amazing ability to make me regret whatever I was helping him with.
‘Natalie didn’t tell you anything more about the child?’ I asked, to interrupt a story about his daughter’s amazing ability in gymnastics.
‘She didn’t come back to work after the funeral.’
‘She wasn’t at her flat either.’ Of course I had tried to talk to her, but nobody had opened the door. ‘Do you think Katja killed Piotr because of this child? To protect the child?’
‘Lotte, you have Piotr all wrong. He wouldn’t have harmed anybody. I think she used that photo as bait.’
‘To get him to come to the bar? So she could kill him?’
‘I never understood why he met up with her.’ Ronald had maintained that Piotr was innocent of everything. That he wouldn’t have had anything to do with Katja’s sister’s death. Natalie’s claim that Katja had killed the wrong man made perfect sense to him.
To me it brought up entirely different concerns. Not about clearing Piotr’s name but about keeping the child safe. ‘But Natalie said something about Piotr asking questions. What do you think she meant?’
&
nbsp; ‘Lotte, I told you, I have no idea. He didn’t mention anything to me.’
The road was clear until we got to the main roundabout at the end of the A9. Then cars were backed up because one set of traffic lights had gone on the blink.
‘Which turning is it?’
‘Just take the first one. I’ll direct you.’
‘Is she …’ I wasn’t sure how to ask it tactfully. ‘Was this your house?’
‘Yes, she still lives there. She needs to sell it at some point, but this is not the right time to do it. The house is worth less than we bought it for. I’ll just let her live there with the kids. Doesn’t make sense for her to move somewhere smaller.’
‘Sure.’ The house was in one of the newer areas of Alkmaar, to the north of the city. This used to be all farmland, my father had told me once. Now it was covered with semi-identical new builds. No wonder they had lost their value.
We parked in front. Ronald’s ex-wife, Ilse, had already opened the door. She looked like a farmer’s daughter, with skin the colour of cream and hair the colour of butter.
She didn’t look happy to see us. ‘It’s what the kids wanted, but I’m still not sure.’
I could have told her that I wasn’t keen on being here either but that I thought I’d needed to help someone even though nobody had helped me. It meant a lot to Ronald to see his children.
‘The only reason I agreed to this,’ she said, ‘is that I respect you, Lotte. I don’t like you but I know you’re a good detective. My kids will be safe with you.’
‘They are,’ I said. ‘And maybe you should give Ronald another chance. He didn’t do anything wrong.’
He glared at me. I shouldn’t attempt to reconcile a recently divorced couple. I had no idea what had happened between the two of them. I could only imagine it had something to do with the fallout from the shooting.
‘If you promise to accompany them for the whole afternoon,’ Ilse continued as if I hadn’t said anything, ‘I’ll let them go with you. It’s the school holidays anyway and this will give me a chance to do some things I need to do. You have to be there for the first five visits. Then we can reassess.’
‘But—’ I said.
‘Agreed,’ Ronald said.
The beach was a wide expanse of sand that burned hot under my bare feet. I drew them back onto the beach towel. I wished I had brought a bathing suit; the sea would be mercifully cool. I scratched my arm. The heat of the sun only made the mosquito bites itch more fiercely. The water was far away and left plenty of space for the hundreds of sun-worshippers dotted all over the beach. The outgoing tide had stranded a row of jellyfish. There were always more of them with an easterly wind. I turned on my stomach and with my chin on my hands watched Ronald and his children ineptly throw a Frisbee around. Wind drifted over the beach, just strong enough to dust loose sand over bodies covered in sun cream. To my left, a group of teenagers were handing a bottle of lotion round, taking full advantage of this opportunity to rub hands over bare backs.
I couldn’t understand why Ilse had insisted on me accompanying them. Did she worry that Ronald would do something to his children? First of all he wasn’t the type, and secondly, his son was already taller than he was, even though he was only thirteen. His daughter was fifteen.
Ronald put an arm around his son’s shoulders. Whatever his father wanted to tell him, Fred didn’t seem too interested in listening. His face was set in a constant scowl; no matter what Ronald said to get him to relax, he didn’t smile. Even in the car the two kids had been quiet. The girl had sulked and said she didn’t want to come with us. God knows what she thought was going to happen. ‘This is Lotte,’ her mother had said. ‘She’s here to protect you.’ Both teenagers had squirmed at those words. Nice start to an afternoon out, that was. She’d made sure I sat with the girl in the back, making Fred sit next to his father. He had kept his earphones on for the entire journey. Now he fished them out of the pocket of his shorts again and stopped his father’s words as effectively as he could.
The seagulls floated effortlessly on the air currents, staying afloat like ducks on a pond. The sea itself was flat; there were no waves. I looked at my watch. There was still two hours to go before Ronald had to bring them back. I put some more Factor 30 on my face and studied the skin on my arms. I wished I had brought something with long sleeves.
We were on the part of the beach where all the windsurfers would have gathered had there been wind. When I’d stayed on the coast four months ago to recover from my shoulder operations, I’d walked on the beach every day, rain, sun or wind. It had been my daily exercise.
I put my headphones in and listened to Radio Tour de France. That really was the sound of summer. In this temperature, it was hard work lying here on the beach, let alone cycling up a mountain. The forecast said the hot weather would stay for another couple of days. It was a proper heatwave.
When the three of them got back to me, Ronald’s face looked greyer than ever. He almost fell onto his towel. I handed both kids a can of fizzy orange.
‘Are you all right?’ I said.
‘I’ll be fine. You know I’ve come here straight from my night shift.’
‘How long have you been awake?’
He looked at his watch. ‘Twenty-two hours. You can’t think straight when you don’t sleep. I don’t think I’ve been thinking straight for a while.’
It almost sounded like an apology. ‘And you insisted we came here today? Are you crazy?’
‘No. I’m fine.’
I took hold of his chin and looked into his eyes. ‘You don’t look fine to me at all.’
‘You have no idea what it means to me to see my children. I hadn’t seen them in four months. I’m not going to get them home early today.’
I took my mobile out. ‘Leave it with me.’ I called my father and asked if he was doing anything that afternoon. He wasn’t, so we drove to his house. Ronald crashed in the spare room for an hour’s sleep, with strict instructions about when we were to wake him up, and my father, my stepmother, Ronald’s daughter and I played Cluedo. Fred sat on the sofa with his headphones in, playing games on his iPhone or maybe texting his friends about what a crap afternoon he was having. Something that required him to move his thumbs over his phone at lightning speed.
I went upstairs to wake Ronald after his sleep. I said his name four times but that didn’t make him stir at all. In the end, I shook him by the shoulder. He opened his eyes just a slit and said, ‘Go away, Lotte’ in a tone of voice that told me he was barely awake. I gave his arm another good shake. He growled and stretched himself.
‘Your kids are here, remember?’ I said.
‘Ah yes. I thought I was just having another nightmare and that was why you were in my bedroom,’ he said with his eyes still closed.
‘We need to get them back in an hour.’
He sat up and swung his legs out of bed. He hadn’t undressed at all. His face was crumpled and his eyes no bigger than peas, trying to keep as much of the light out as he could. He managed to stay awake for two more games of Cluedo, losing both of them, and sat in the back seat of the car as I drove them all back to Ilse. He said goodbye to his children, getting the afternoon’s first smile from Teri – it had been worth letting her win that final game – and climbed back into the car. As soon as he had clicked the seat belt shut and leaned his head against the window, the snoring started, a match for the engine. I didn’t bother turning the radio on, not wanting to wake him up and unable to hear it anyway. By the time we stopped outside my flat, he’d had another hour of solid sleep.
‘Thanks for that, Lotte,’ he said as he undid the seat belt. ‘You’re a good friend.’
As we went in, I thought I saw Mark on the opposite side of the canal. I must have imagined it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The next morning my legs were heavy as I cycled into work. The afternoon on the beach had turned my skin to a colour between red and deep pink. A couple of days would tone down the burn
into a healthy tan, but today the cloth of my shirt chafed painfully against my arms and back, and even a thick layer of after-sun moisture cream hadn’t managed to take the sting away. I should be grateful we’d only been out for a few hours. Had I been baking in the sun the entire day, I would probably have had a second-degree burn. Mosquito bites, sunburn, ongoing heat: I was starting to get really fed up with summer. Maybe it would rain again soon.
The rainbow flag was flying cheerily on top of the police station, the blue stripe matching the colour of the sky. My feet didn’t want to carry me up the stairs to the office and the people who had chosen not to help me. In the past I’d had run-ins with my colleagues, but then I had understood only too well. After all, there were things I’d done that hadn’t been right, and Thomas especially had known about it. But now all I wanted to do was look into a case a bit longer. That confession still didn’t make any sense to me and Piotr’s murder really wasn’t solved as far as I was concerned.
‘Good morning, Lotte,’ Ingrid said as soon as I’d come through the door. ‘How was your day off?’
‘Fine.’
‘What did you get up to?’ Thomas said with a grin.
What were they so happy about? ‘I went to the beach.’
‘It shows. That red glow isn’t healthy. You should have used better sunscreen. Your nose wouldn’t look out of place on Pipo the Clown.’
I put my hand against my face. ‘Very funny.’
‘Instead of going to the beach, we worked hard,’ he continued. ‘We looked at the tapes of Katja Bruyneel’s interview.’
That brought my head up. I looked at Thomas. ‘You did what?’
‘We looked at the recordings and we think we should definitely talk to Petra Maasland again.’
I felt as if a weight that I had been carrying all the way to the office had now dropped onto the floor. I wanted to give them both a hug. ‘Did you tell Bauer?’ They were my team after all.
Ingrid shook her head. ‘I haven’t even told Tim. But I think you’re right. There are too many open questions.’
‘About the child—’
Death on the Canal Page 19
