by Kim Knight
Ring.
Ring.
She snatched up the receiver. “Yeah, this is Janssen.” Her eyes didn’t move from the case notes on her desk.
“Detective, hi. Dr. Cleveland here.”
“Oh, hey doc. What’s the latest?”
“The victim—Suzy Chan, well, she’s another strangulation.”
“With what?”
“This time, with a belt.”
“How do you know?”
“By the puncture marks on her neck. Looks like it was wrapped around her neck a few times, then the clasp of the belt was actually closed with the clasp, which caused a puncture marks to the skin.”
“Jesus, what a sick bastard. Anything else you can tell me?”
“Well, some good news.”
“I’m all about the good stuff. Hit me.”
“This time, I found a hair.”
“Human?”
“Yep. And it didn’t belong to the victim. Also, the swab samples might show up more information once they come back from the lab. Keep your fingers crossed. This time, we might just find something.”
Janssen stopped chewing her fruit and placed it on the desk. The hair found was music to her ears.
“Doc, you’re amazing. This is what we needed,” she said. “Some kind of headway with the forensics. This fucker’s been too damn careful for my liking.”
A long sigh, followed by a pause hit the line.
She rolled her eyes. “Sorry. Excuse my language.”
Dr. Cleveland chuckled slightly at her apology. “No worries. Well, let’s hope there’s something to look back on if you find your suspect. I’ll keep you posted on the clothing and other samples taken.”
“Was she assaulted in anyway?
“No. Just like the others. From what I could make out, no sexual assault occurred. Whether she had sex and with who is a whole other question. But the samples taken will confirm that one way or another.”
“Thanks. Talk to you soon.”
“No problem. Keep well.”
Janssen placed the phone receiver down, picked up her apple and a whiteboard marker pen, then rose. She took a large bite of the sweet fruit and made her way from her desk, over to the whiteboard.
Standing in front of the board for a moment, she sighed, then added Suzy’s name to the list of missing women along with her mug shot.
Her eyes moved over each of them. She noted a similarity in age—early to mid-thirties.
From an ethic standpoint, they reflected every shade under a rainbow of flesh tones. And the fact that they were all tied to the city via their jobs as working girls, offering adult services to the public, was one more tie that connected them.
Once she finished combing over the information on the board, she headed back to her desk and pulled up the transcript of the interview with the witness who had come forward, regarding Tess’ last sighting.
She recorded the person’s name and address in her notebook, then read over the mother’s report once more.
11
Last Sighting
Detective Gibson
Later that morning, Gibson pulled up outside the last known address of Suzy Chan. Hopping out of the car, he straightened his tie, and then looked up at the building. The accompanying officers parked a few cars down from his vehicle.
He turned his attention back to the block of flats, then glanced around the residential area. Nothing seemed out of place.
Suzy lived not far from the Anna Frank museum. The area was busy for ten-thirty in the morning. People made their way in and out of the direction of the iconic tourist spot of the city.
Gibson rubbed his hands together for warmth as he waited for his officers to make their way over.
“Morning gentlemen.” He addressed the three men.
“Morning, Sir,” said Denz, the more talkative of the group.
“So, this is the plan,” said Gibson. “We have a warrant to search the property. With any luck her, roommate will be home and can let us in, so we can take a look around.”
“Okay,” replied Denz. “Anything in particular we’re looking for?”
Gibson looked officer Denz in the eye. “We need the contact details of her parents. She named her roommate as her next of kin. Other than that, bag up anything you can find of use. Diaries, notes, electronics, anything that may shine some light.”
The officers nodded in agreement.
Gibson strode over to the building and pressed the intercom buzzer.
“Hello,” said a feminine voice.
“Morning, this is Detective Gibson. I believe you spoke to one of my officers yesterday about Suzy. I have a few more questions for you.”
“Oh, okay, come on in.”
The door clicked open. Gibson placed a hand on the knob and opened the door. He entered the building with his men behind him. Glancing left and then right, he noticed no one around. Just a few empty bottles, graffiti and take out boxes.
He shook his head at the rubbish and remained on high alert as he progressed up the stairs. Once he arrived outside of what was Suzy’s home, her roommate was already on the landing of the balcony waiting for him. She was what he would consider tall for a woman, around five-foot-ten, slender, with long, black braids to her waist, and dark chocolate-coloured skin.
“Morning Detective, I’m Donika. Come on through.”
“Morning.” Gibson offered her his hand.
She placed hers in his and shook it. “Mornin’.”
“I’ve got some officers here with me. They’re going to take a look around Suzy’s room while we speak.”
“No problem.” Donika motioned for them to follow her. “This way.”
Gibson and his men piled into the apartment. He followed Donika down the short hallway, and as he did, he glanced into the rooms that he passed.
“How many of you live here?” Gibson took note of the modern, amateur paintings on the wall.
“There were three of us originally. But then Sofia moved out, so that left me and Suzy,” Donika said over her shoulder.
“Here, take a seat.” She pointed to the kitchen table.
“Where’s Suzy’s room?” Gibson stood at the dividing line between two rooms.
He glanced around the kitchen area in front of him, then behind him into the living room. It was a tidy and spacious area that led out to a balcony. From what he could see from where he was standing, there was a table and chair set facing the view of the canal behind the building.
“Sorry. It’s this way,” Donika said.
The uniformed officers followed behind her.
Gibson crossed the threshold of the kitchen and dropped his notepad on the table. He walked over to the balcony and glanced out at the seated area. Turning around, he looked over the kitchen’s detail.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Donika’s voice sounded over his shoulder.
He spun around to face her.
“No, thanks I’m okay.”
“You said you had questions for me.” She pulled out two chairs. “Take a seat.”
Gibson undid the buttons of his smart winter coat, then lowered himself on to one of the chairs.
“How long did you know Suzy?”
“A few years. I still can’t believe this has happened. We worked together around the circuit in Dam Square. She was a great dancer. The men loved her.”
“And you’ve lived together for how long?”
“Ever since we met. Suzy was living in a shared flat before, but she didn’t like the set up there. Once we met, she told me she needed a place to stay. I told her, I was looking too, and we found this place.”
Gibson flipped open his notepad, taking notes. “So, you two have lived here together ever since?”
“Yeah.”
“Did she have any family here or ever speak of them?”
“No, that’s the thing. Her family are all back in Hong Kong. They know she’s in Amsterdam, but I don’t know much else. She never really spoke about th
em. Every now and then, she’d mail off a letter or postcard. That’s all I know.”
“And what about the last time you saw her alive, what happened?”
“Well, that’s the strange part. The last time I saw her was the morning of the day she was found dead, just a few days ago. She left out earlier for work, and said she’d be back that evening. Nothing seemed unusual, except the change in her working shift. I never really questioned it.”
“Why do you think she changed shifts?”
“I have no idea.”
“Okay. Did she have a boyfriend?”
“Not that I know of. But she did meet someone online that she was getting to know. She went out with him a few times, but never gave me the details of her dates.” Donika paused and started to drum the table. “She was really secretive.”
Gibson noted her change in persona. It was as if she felt some kind of shame or regret.
“Suzy wanted to leave the clubs behind and settle down,” Donika said after a beat. “That much, I do know.”
“Where did she meet this mystery guy? What site?”
“That I don’t know. You’d probably need to check her phone or email.”
Gibson made a swift note. “Is there anything else you can think of that seemed off or unusual in the lead up to the last time you saw her?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “That’s all I can say. She changed her shift pattern, nothing else.” Donika shrugged.
“Do you know much about why she left Hong Kong or her parents?”
“Nope, she never wanted to speak about them. But I know they’re wealthy.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, once she showed me a picture of her childhood home. It was massive.”
Gibson snapped his notepad closed in frustration and placed it in his inside pocket with the pen, then extracted a card.
“Okay, let me check on my team and see how they’re doing. If you remember anything else, here’s my contact details.” Gibson slid the card across the table.
“Thanks. I hope you find whoever did this.”
“Me too.” A sigh passed his lips. “Right now, we really need to inform her family.”
Gibson rose from the table and headed out the kitchen toward Suzy’s bedroom. “How’s it going?” He stood at the door.
“So far, all we’ve found is an address book and her laptop. Her parents are listed under mum and dad,” Officer Denz confirmed.
“Excellent.” Gibson ran his gaze over the room, then stepped inside.
The room seemed too close in, especially with the other officers moving about. He took in the telltale signs of an erotic dancer. Her heels and dresses were everywhere. The room, to him, appeared to show no signs of someone leaving in a hurry. It looked neat and organised.
“Men, if there’s nothing else of interest, and we have the contact details for her parents, I guess we’re done here.” Gibson took the clear plastic bag with the address book and laptop from Officer Denz.
He made his way back out to the kitchen where Donika still sat. As he approached the room, he noticed her with her back turned and her head in her hands.
Her shoulders shook, and he heard small sobs.
He took a deep breath, then entered the room.
“Donika, stay strong. We’ll find out what happened to her.”
Donika looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. Her pretty facial features sagged as tears rolled down her cheeks. She moved her braids to one side and ran a hand over her face.
“There’s been too many…too many of us have been victims! You need to catch this person,” she raised her voice. “What have the Politie been doing?”
Gibson held his hands up in defence. “Donika, I promise we’ll—”
“No, this is serious. You’ve not taken the murders and disappearances seriously because we are working girls. Prostitutes in your eyes, and we—”
“Donika. Listen to me, we’re doing all that we can,” Gibson cut her off.
Donika nodded her head slowly and swiped at her tears. “Please, I don’t feel safe. None of us do. Suzy…she was my best friend.”
“I promise, we’re on the case.” Silence fell between them for several seconds. “We’ll see ourselves out. Give me a call if you remember anything else.”
Donika turned back to the table and picked up Gibson’s card. She ran a finger over the bold letters, then glanced back at him.
“Okay, I will.” Her eyes, still full of tears, conveyed her anguish.
Gibson nodded and turned to leave. “Let’s head back to base,” he called to his men.
They all piled into the hallway and followed behind him toward to front door, leaving Donika alone.
12
Daydreamer
Mr. Fitz
Later that evening…
Mr. Fitz placed the newspaper down on his dinner table. Picking up his napkin, he wiped his lips.
The aroma of roast beef clung to the air of his living room. Still hungry, he helped himself to another slice of the tender meat, then topped up his glass of wine. Tonight’s meal was so much better than eating with Olga.
Yap. Yap. Yap. The woman could talk on and on about absolutely nothing.
The news played out in the background, but his focus was on today’s headline of the De Telegraaf paper.
Knife in hand, he cut a piece of beef, popped it into his mouth, chewed on it, then read the article Madeline had written once more. He was impressed with her journalistic skills, as well as the ability to paint a vivid picture in her appeal for information and witnesses, following the discovery of Suzy Chan’s body.
She went to town on this.
He read over the level of details she had disclosed about Suzy Chan’s and the other girls’ murders and disappearances.
End to end, he folded the paper, careful to not make uneven creases. Once done, he set the paper down. He shovelled the rest of his meat and potatoes into his mouth, chewed, then swallowed. Downing the red wine, he swished the last gulp around in his mouth, patting his belly satisfied.
Rising from the table, he cleared his dishes, then placed them into the kitchen. He retired to the sofa, with his glass and the bottle of wine in hand.
He was fed up with hearing about the ‘danger posed to women around the city,’ so he flicked through the channels. An American comedy grabbed his attention and settled on that.
I hope everything is okay with the leak?
Madeline’s article of clothing came to mind, followed by the sheer happiness he felt at knowing exactly where she worked. He pulled out his phone and sent two text messages. One to Madeline and another to the neighbour below her to make sure there was no need to send out another contractor.
He phone beeped with a response.
—Everything’s fine here.
—Thanks so much, Madeline.
Her response pulled a smile to his lips, and he massaged his thumb over Madeline’s message. Another message hit his phone, but this one wasn’t from her, but from Andre.
—Evening. I haven’t noticed any damage here.
—I guess now it’s all fixed. Thanks, Andre.
Good. All taken care of, his mind wandered. Well, except for the carpet.
Thoughts about the bra he had swiped made him grin.
How will I ever get it back to her? He pondered this question. Can I risk entering her apartment again?
He took a sip of his wine, then thought about it some more.
Nope, too much of a risk. She’ll never notice it’s missing, anyway.
It was nice to have such an intimate part of her, after all, especially girls like her never fall for guys like him.
He grinned at the little secret he had stashed away in his room, and the new knowledge of her profession and line of work, thrilled him.
As a facilities manager he didn’t have access to this information. All he knew about the properties he managed was who lived in which property, but no personal details. That was al
l dealt with by the agency.
He admired her, just like many women he passed on a day-to-day basis.
If only she’d give me a chance. He clenched his hands into fists.
The squishy carpet came to mind and a grin played across his lips along with a thought that danced in his mind.
Carpet replacement requires entry into her home again. His grin stretched from ear to ear.
13
A New Friend
Madeline Sloane
Three days later…
Madeline walked into the editor in chief’s office and took a seat. “You wanted to speak with me, Fleur?”
“Yes, Madeline.” Fleur pulled her hair back into a sloppy bun, then stuck a pencil through it, holding it in place on the back of her head. “You did an excellent job with the coverage on the Red Light girls. Well done. I wanted to encourage you to follow up on this story.” She placed down the newspaper on her desk.
“Really? You mean it?”
“I do. Keep turning out articles like this, and you’ll land some front pagers. Good work, overall.”
“Oh, thanks. I’m glad you’re happy. I have every intention of seeing what I can find out.”
“The Politie seem to be downplaying the urgency. My guess is it’s because they were working girls. What do you think?”
“Exactly, right? It’s crazy. Regardless of what the ladies did for a living, the killer is still out there.”
“My point exactly,” Fleur responded, then opened up De Telegraaf to the article Madeline wrote.
Fleur tapped the paper with a manicured nail.
“Remember,” Fleur said, “we need to be seen as supporting the police. Don’t trash them, of course, but keep the story fresh in the people’s minds.”
“No problem. Will do.”
“That’s all. I’m here if you need me.”
Madeline got to her feet and turned to leave her boss’ office. On her way out, she glanced back.
