‘Anyway,’ said Baasteuwel eventually, ‘I’ve ordered extracts from the court proceedings involving Maager. I should get them tomorrow. And a list of pupils who were attending the school at the time — I suppose I’ll have to collect that myself, they don’t have many staff around at this time of year.’
Moreno nodded. Efficient, she thought. He’s not exactly sitting around twiddling his thumbs and ruminating. Not all the time, at least. For the first time during the weeks she’d spent in Lejnice she felt that she could safely leave things in somebody else’s hands. That she didn’t need to accept responsibility for everything, but knew that things would get done even so. It was a relief, no doubt about that.
Good, she thought. At last, somebody who has a clue about things.
That judgement was a bit hard on Constable Vegesack, she realized that; but you could say that Baasteuwel and Kohler were of a different calibre. A calibre that was probably necessary to elucidate these obscurities and half-truths. And what it was now clear was at the bottom of it all.
They’ll solve this, she thought. I can wash my hands of it all.
‘Oh my God, I nearly forgot!’ said Baasteuwel as he swallowed a gulp of wine. ‘Maager! He had a phone call last Saturday — the staff at the home eventually realized that, rang us and told us about it. Some stand-in or other took the call and went to fetch him. About twelve o’clock. Yes, the same day that he went missing. Last Saturday. What have you to say to that?’
Moreno thought for quite some time before responding.
‘I’m not really surprised,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose they knew who the caller was?’
‘No. A woman, that’s all they knew. If she gave a name, they’d forgotten it. Who do you think it was?’
Moreno took another drink of wine while she thought about that.
‘Sigrid Lijphart,’ she said. ‘His ex-wife. But I’m only saying that because he hardly seemed to know anybody at all.’
‘Hmm,’ muttered Baasteuwel, who evidently hadn’t thought of that possibility. ‘What might she have wanted, then?’
‘To talk a few things over — it doesn’t need to be any more remarkable than that. They were married for six years, haven’t said a word to each other for sixteen, and they have a daughter together who has gone missing. There was no doubt all kinds of things to talk about.’
‘Could be,’ said Baasteuwel. ‘But what might the telephone call — if it was her, in fact — have to do with his disappearance?’
Moreno shrugged.
‘I’ve no idea. Maybe they agreed to meet. He finds it hard to say anything at the best of times, and it probably wasn’t any easier on the telephone. . Yes, she might well have arranged to meet him.’
Baasteuwel raised a sceptical eyebrow while he sat there in silence, apparently weighing up this suggestion. After five seconds, he lowered it. It needs trimming, Moreno noted.
‘So why doesn’t she mention this when she phones and pesters the police?’ he wondered. ‘She rings at least twice a day, according to Vegesack. She’s a damned annoying woman — I’ve listened to her tirades myself.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Moreno, shaking her head. ‘I’m on holiday. Perhaps one should take into account the fact that her daughter has gone missing. .’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Baasteuwel.
They finished their main course and ordered coffee. Baasteuwel lit a cigarette, placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. Looked inscrutable for a moment, then suddenly broke into a smile.
‘Vrommel,’ he said. ‘Would you like to know how I intend to tackle the problem concerning the chief of police?’
‘Tell me,’ said Moreno.
‘Like this,’ said Baasteuwel, and looked almost excited at the prospect. ‘As I can’t very well punch him on the nose, and we can’t go gadding about questioning people without him getting to know about it, I’ve turned to the press.’
‘The press?’ said Moreno.
‘Yes, the local newspaper. Aaron Wicker, editor in chief of
‘Excellent,’ said Moreno. ‘If you need any extra help, you might like to know that I happen to be staying with one of Wicker’s reporter colleagues.’
Baasteuwel’s jaw dropped for a moment.
‘I’ve got to hand it to you, you know what you’re doing. Do you spend all your holidays like this?’
‘You should see me when I’m on duty,’ said Moreno.
‘I’ve been doing a bit of thinking as well,’ Baasteuwel admitted when their coffee was served. ‘I haven’t only been faffing about and being a conscientious police officer.’
‘You don’t say,’ said Moreno. ‘And what have you been thinking about?’
‘The murder. Of Van Rippe, that is. But I haven’t got anywhere.’
‘That happens to me sometimes as well,’ admitted Moreno. ‘Once a year or so. Let’s hear it.’
Baasteuwel displayed his uneven teeth in a grin.
‘You’re a canny cop,’ he said. ‘Are you married?’
‘What the hell has that got to do with it?’ said Moreno.
Baasteuwel leaned forward over the table.
‘I just don’t want you making advances to me,’ he said. ‘I have a wife and four kids; I see it as my duty to humanity to spread my genes.’
Moreno burst out laughing and Baasteuwel bared his teeth again.
‘But where were we?’ he said. ‘This poor Van Rippe — I can’t help wondering about how he came to die. It’s a damned unusual way of murdering people, sticking something in his eye, isn’t it? It’s difficult to get at an eye, I mean, unless he was lying down, asleep, of course. But why would he be lying asleep on the beach?’
‘He could have been taken there,’ said Moreno.
‘Yes, I’m coming round to thinking that he must have been,’ said Baasteuwel. ‘Nobody sleeps on the beach at night, and it’s an exceptionally cold-blooded murderer who goes and stabs to death somebody who’s lying down and sunbathing. I gather you’re not exactly on your own down on the beach during the day — even if my duties have prevented me from going down there to check. So he must have been moved there after the murder.’
Moreno thought about that.
‘That can’t be true,’ she said.
‘I know,’ said Baasteuwel. ‘But tell me why it can’t be true.’
Moreno could see that she’d have nothing against working together with Baasteuwel on a daily basis as well. He seemed to be sharper than most, and he had a way of discussing things and playing with words that helped to move things forward. He was creative, in fact.
‘The careless way he was buried,’ she said. ‘If somebody really had time to move the body from the place where it had been murdered, they ought also to have had time to dispose of it more efficiently. To dig it down deeper, at least. And why choose a place that’s crawling with people every day? There must be hundreds of places where he’d never have been found. Up among the dunes, for instance. No, I think it must have happened in great haste, despite everything. The murderer was in a hurry. Dug the body down as quickly as possible, then got the hell out of there.’
‘So not a lot in the way of premeditation, in other words?’
‘Presumably not.’
‘And it happened at that very spot?’
‘Presumably.’
Baasteuwel lit another cigarette and sighed.
‘Maybe we’ll have to go along with Kohler’s idea after all.’
‘What was that?’
‘Call in the army and dig up the whole bleeding beach.’
