The Red Light Girls (Unsolved Mysteries Book 2)

by Kim Knight

  “Hey. We’ve got to stay focused.” Madeline playfully punched him on the arm. “Wednesday night, one of the waitresses told me that Fenna Bakker and Zoe Van Dyk worked over at The Blue Martini. They weren’t Erotica girls. Let’s head there.”

  Madeline pulled Chris’ arm, and together, they headed in a direction away from the window girls. She picked up her pace, weaving in and out of the locals and tourists along the narrow pavements.

  When she and Chris approached the canal, a boat slowly sailed past with a group of tourists snapping pictures and pointing at different landmarks.

  A smile bloomed on her face, and Chris caught her admiring them.

  “We should do that.” He nodded in the direction of the canal.

  “Maybe.” Madeline blushed and looked up into his blue eyes.

  Damn you are way too cute! Stay focused, girl, she reprimanded herself. Work first.

  She pushed the carefree images of her and Chris setting sail down the canal, out of her mind.

  “Here we go.” Arm outstretched, she pointed. “There’s the Blue Martini.”

  Madeline pulled Chris across the pavement. Some bike riders whizzed by. They honked their horns, rung their bells or called out a warning in Dutch. A few members of the group, cursed and yelled to get out of the way.

  Chris yelled back in Dutch over his shoulder, and from what Madeline could understand, he told them to go to hell, which caused her to crack up with laughter.

  Her Dutch wasn’t perfect, but from what she could make out, Chris wasn’t impressed by the cyclists.

  “Dumb fucks,” Chis said in English, then turned back to her.

  “C’mon. No trouble. We’ve got work to do.” Madeline giggled again, then pushed open the door to the Blue Martini club.

  As soon as the doors opened, a heavy drumbeat and heavy bass music floated out of the building. The blinds were pulled over the windows for privacy, making it dark and cosy.

  Madeline looked around the room, lit with disco lights.

  It’s hard to imagine it’s early afternoon with the smoky atmosphere, she pondered the thought.

  Patrons sat around tables, drinking and smoking. Some played pool while others were on the dance floor. The working girls climbed their poles with skill, and some sat at tables with customers.

  Madeline led Chris over to the bar area where they could both remove their jackets, and then took a seat.

  A female bar tender approached, all smiles.

  “Hi. What can I get you?” She drummed her nails on the bar to the beat of the music.

  “Two Heinekens, please.” Chris placed his debit card on the bar.

  Madeline turned to him. “This is where they worked. Can you believe it. I wonder what happened the night they went missing?”

  “God only knows.” Chris shrugged his shoulders.

  The waitress placed two ice-cold beers on the bar, then swiped Chris’ card, and then handed him a receipt.

  “Are you okay?” Madeline asked her. “Ya know, since Zoe and Fenna’s disappearance.”

  The barmaid sighed and shook her head. “It’s been rough. That fucker’s still out there and every girl here is walking on eggshells.”

  “Damn, that’s too bad,” said Madeline. “Did they work here long?”

  The woman narrowed her eyes, scrutinising Madeline. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, I just, well…I, I’m just a-asking, that’s all, ya know—woman to woman. I’m worried a-about the girls who work here.”

  The barmaid leaned on the bar. “Thanks, that’s sweet.” She looked Madeline over again. “You’re not from around here with that accent. What are you doing here?” She casually started to wipe down the bar with a cloth.

  “I’m new in town. Just moved here a few months back.”

  “Cool. Well, welcome. Don’t let the murders worry you. Just be careful around town, that’s all.”

  “I will. Tell me a bit about them. Did you know Zoe and Fenna?” Madeline probed and held her breath.

  The waitress looked from Madeline to Chris, then back at Madeline again. “You’re not cops are you.” Her eyelids narrowed again. “What do you want?”

  “No, of course not. Like I said, I’m new here and don’t know many people. The girls’ cases just took me by surprise, that’s all.” She took a swig of her beer. “It’s been months, and they’ve not caught whoever is responsible.”

  “Hmm, true. I’m pretty new here myself. I started after the news about them had surfaced, so I never met them. Sorry.”

  The woman moved down the bar and started to upload some bottles, restocking the fridge. She glanced over her shoulder at Chris and Madeline again and narrowed her eyes a second time as if uncertain about their motives.

  “She suspects something,” said Chris. “She thinks we’re the police. Maybe we should go.”

  “No. We can’t go yet. It’s fine.” Madeline waved off his words. “Don’t worry about her.”

  She took another long swig of her beer.

  “It might be a little hard to get any more info on the girls, though, especially since she’s new. Hmm.” She glanced around. “Who else can I speak to without causing suspicions?”

  Frustration ate at her. She chewed on her lip impatiently, then looked at Chris.

  He’s gaze was locked on something on the other side of the bar. Madeline followed his line of sight to a large screen television mounted on the wall.

  “Shit. Janssen told me they’d announce it soon,” Madeline blurted out and pulled on his elbow.

  Chris remained mute and focused on the screen.

  Madeline noticed a man head over to the DJ and whisper in his ear, he nodded in response, and then cut the music.

  “Oh, my God.” The new barmaid behind the bar kept her eyes trained on the television screen. She grabbed the remote from under the bar, then turned up the volume.

  The carefree, talkative atmosphere fell silent. Everyone in the bar listened in to the breaking news announcement.

  “During the early hours this morning,” the reporter announced. “Another female body was found. She’s been identified as twenty-five-year-old Donna Mikel. The family have been informed. Donna was reported missing two weeks ago. She was an entertainer in the city. Her body surfaced in the canal a few meters from the Anne Frank museum. More details to follow.”

  The news reporter moved to live footage along the canal. Her hair blew in the wind.

  Madeline gasped once she had seen where the police had taped off the section. She glanced around at the other patrons, who all looked around at each other, and then back at the screen.

  The barmaid added Dutch subtitles to the screen, then lowered the volume. After a couple of seconds, she nodded at the DJ, then the music started up again, drowning out the chatter of the other patrons.

  “Damn, this is getting serious,” Madeline whispered to Chris. “I don’t think there’s much more information I can get here today. The girl on shift didn’t even know any of the girls.”

  “Yeah. This sucks.” Chris sighed. “Don’t look so disappointed. The police are doing the best they can, ya know?” Chris placed a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s grab something to eat, and I’ll walk you back.”

  Chris held out his hand to Madeline. She took it and slid off the stool. Slowly, she slipped on her jacket. Chris followed suit, and when finished, he followed her out the door.

  Will the detective talk to me now? How to pop the question played around in her head.

  23

  Stuck Between the Two

  Chris Visser

  Half an hour later, Chris watched Madeline push her pancakes around her plate. Sitting opposite him in the café, he could tell she looked deep in thought.

  “Ya gonna eat those or just play with them?” He grinned, then pointed his fork down at her plate.

  “Sorry, I’m in a world of my own.”

  Madeline shoved a mouthful of the sweet delight into her mouth. He half-smiled and tried to
gain her eye contact. She avoided it.

  “No problems. I understand how you feel. I’m happy to see you and glad we got to spend some time together today.”

  “Me too, it’s just—”

  “Chris, you dick! I knew it,” a familiar female voice called out from across the café.

  Damn. He shook his head. Not this. Not now. Not Stacey.

  Chris snapped his focus from Madeline to the angry female marching up to the table.

  “Who the fuck is she?” Stacey placed her hands on her hips. “I knew I couldn’t trust you.”

  “Stacey what are you—” He didn’t know if he should stay seated or rise.

  “Never mind what I’m doing here. Chris, I thought you were sick. I came all the way over here to get you something to eat since I know how much you love the food here. But it looks like you’re okay to me.”

  “Chris who is this?” Madeline butted in with a frown.

  Chris turned his attention from Stacey back to Madeline. “No one. She’s—”

  “No one? Oh, so I’m no one now?” Stacey yelled. “Fuck you, Chris. Last week, we were together, and now I’m no one?” She turned to face Madeline. “That’s right, we’re together, well, at least, I thought we were.”

  Chris struggled to remain neutral—to not get annoyed. But the harder he tried the more he was sure his face moulded itself into a look of frustration. He got to his feet about to defend his position. Madeline cut him off.

  “I’ve heard enough.” Madeline grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair and stormed out.

  “Madeline, wait,” Chris called out.

  He grabbed his phone from his pocket and tried to call her, but it went to straight to voicemail. Quickly, he gathered his things to leave.

  “So, you’re going to run after her?” Stacey demanded. “You need to let me know why you lied to me?”

  “Just shut up, Stacey,” Chis retorted in a low voice.

  He glanced around the café. The owner made his way over to the table. Chris held up a hand to him.

  “I’m sorry I’m leaving right now. Here, take this.”

  After fishing out a few notes from his wallet, he handed them over to the owner, then turned on his heels and ran out the door.

  Damn. What lousy timing.

  24

  A Word of Warning

  Madeline Sloane

  The vibration made her fingers tingle. With a little more force than required, she pressed cancel on the incoming call from Chris for the second time.

  Dammit. I should’ve known better. What’s that saying, when something sounds too good to be true, buyer—or in this case—dater beware. Sitting on the tram ride back home she fought the urge to cry. Fuckin’ two-timing prick.

  As the train pulled into her stop, she switched off the phone and headed to the exit.

  Whatever, Chris, I’m done, she thought as she made her way home.

  After a short walk she, took the steps two at a time to her flat, slid the key into the lock, opened the door, and then slammed it so hard, the single glazed windows shook from the impact.

  She took a deep cleansing breath, kicked off her boots, then flopped on the sofa.

  Men who needs them! Just focus on work.

  Later that evening, Madeline sprawled out on her sofa, watching a Dutch comedy show, eating ice cream.

  Her phone range twice, and she glanced down at the unknown number.

  “Hello.” She spooned another bite of cookies and cream ice cream.

  “Hi, this is Stacey.”

  “Stacey who?”

  “Don’t play dumb, Chris’ girlfriend, who else. We need to talk.”

  Madeline rolled her eyes. “I don’t have anything to say. I had no idea he had a girlfriend. In fact, he offered to meet up with me.”

  “Yeah, I know. You’ve been in contact. He leaves his phone unlocked. But I didn’t know you two had a date today. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that you need to back off.”

  “Back off? You really think I’m interested in some two-timing low life. Love, you’re welcome to him.”

  “So, are you one of the girls he met online too?”

  “What? No, why?”

  “Just asking. Anyway, like I said, back off. He’s my daddy, okay.”

  “What the actual fuck are you talking about? You think—”

  “Just back off okay, or else,” Stacey warned, then ended the call.

  What the holy fuck?

  She shook her head, still trying to process the conversation.

  He’s got some nerve. I’ll give him that. She was really put off that Chris had the cheek to cheat on his so-called girlfriend.

  He made me the other woman.

  She seethed with anger, and it didn’t help that Stacey had the nerve to warn her off. It’s not as if she wants him after this stunt.

  Daddy. She had called Chris, “her Daddy.” I’m a grown-ass woman. I don’t need a man to support me, and I most definingly don’t need a so-called Daddy.

  Madeline chewed on the words from the conversation, as well as a swirling flood of thoughts about the ongoing murder cases. She set the phone next to her, and a chill ran up her spine, making the hairs on her neck stand on end. Sitting up straight, she glanced at the screen.

  Why’d she ask if I found him on line. All the prior emails from before flooded her mind.

  Panic moved through her, causing her to jump to her feet.

  Feeling naked and vulnerable, she ran to the window facing the main road. Hands on the blinds, she peeked out. Her eyes darted up and down the street, looking for the police presence that Janssen had told her would be there.

  Damn, I should have asked who to look out for.

  She closed the blind, turned around, and her gaze landed on the hallway.

  Slowly, she made her way through the small living area and entered it. In a flash, she made her way to the door and double checked it was locked. Turned around, she pressed her back against the door.

  A frown tugged at her lips, the penny had just dropped, so to speak.

  He’s my Daddy, Stacey had said. What’s that all about? She pondered why the woman referred to Chis as ‘her Daddy.’

  25

  Sleepless Night

  Madeline Sloane

  The next morning, Madeline woke feeling groggy. Barely able to sleep last night, she tossed and turned in bed, and her mind raced.

  Paranoia had set in over the received emails, the missing girls, and the newfound worry that she could be next. Not to mention, her little conversation last night.

  He’s my Daddy, Stacey’s words hit her. They really left her with an unsettled feeling. What hell does she mean? My daddy?

  She looked up at the cracks in the ceiling above her bed, counting them for the hundredth time.

  Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, it was only eight.

  Oh, my God. Can’t sleep.

  Madeline threw the covers off, then headed to the living room.

  At the front door, she glanced around the drab space, unimpressed.

  Damn. It’s Sunday morning, regardless, she opened her laptop and pulled up her work email.

  Phew. No new threatening messages!

  She glanced over the mail that had come in since she left work on Friday.

  Ten more responses to the appeal published the week before, sat waiting in her inbox. All of them from women who thought they had information or had used the Sugar Daddies website and now wanted to come forward.

  Nervously, she clicked on the email she had opened last week and read through it once more.

  Oh my God, she has a date!

  Madeline panicked at the response from one of the women she had been in contact with. She pulled up the email sent last week to the woman who confirmed she had a date with one of the sugar daddies.

  How did I forget about this? Her heart hammered in her chest.

  Hi Ma’am,

  I’ve used that site. I am still using it now and I�
�ve made arrangements to meet a man for dinner. I work in Dam Square I’m one of the window girls please don’t judge me I need to change my life!

  Thanks,

  Lucy Hanssen

  Lucy never responded to the email she had sent to follow up with what she had disclosed about the date.

  Madeline picked up the phone and dialled the contact number the woman gave, but the call didn’t go through.

  “Shit.” She slid the phone across the table, looking at it as if it would strike her like a pit viper.

  I gotta do something. She snatched it back up and dialled Detective Janssen’s number.

  “Hello,” Janssen’s groggy voice answered. “This better be good.”

  “Detective, it’s Madeline.”

  “In that case, it better be really good.”

  “I was just going through my emails.” The more she spoke, the faster the words fell out of her mouth. “A woman, Lucy I think, responded to the article I wrote last week.”

  “Can you get to the point?”

  “I’m trying to.” She sighed. “I have a ton of unopened responses. Anyway, I just tried to contact her.”

  “Of course you did. And?”

  “She said she has a date with a man from the same site Suzy was using. Her number’s unresponsive.”

  “What? When was this scheduled date happening?”

  “She never said. And detective, she failed to respond to my email asking, which is what worries me more.”

  “Okay, meet me at my office in an hour. We’ll go through the responses together.”

  “There’s something else.”

  “There’s always something else with you. What?”

  “I…I don’t even know how to say this, but—”

  “Just spit it out.”

  “I think the guy I had a date last night’s involved.”