“Understandably,” Jake said. “Was this such a good idea to do this now?”
“It’s fine, he wants to talk.”
“Oh.”
“I know—”
A male officer, skinny and pale, with a blond buzz cut, came striding down the corridor.
“Lars! How are you?” he called in Dutch.
It was Max. I hated Max.
He shook hands vigorously with Lars, then looked me up and down with pointed disgust, Jake next.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“Body is Mrs. Visser,” Lars answered, “but we’ve got some new evidence.”
“What new evidence?”
“Not for you to know,” I stepped in. “This is our case.”
He sneered at me and encroached on my personal space. Max was taller than me—he was taller than most people. I squared up to him, looking up into his fake-tanned features.
“It’s all my business.” The tip of his nose was on mine.
“Unless you’re going to kiss me, back off.”
His face brightened in a flush of crimson. “Fuck you.” But he backed off. “You wish I’d kiss you.”
“Why would he,” Jake jumped in, “when he has all this filet steak to chow down on?”
Max laughed, still red, and not happy that we’d answered back. “Whatever. Like I have the time to mess around with supernaturals. Scum. All of them.”
Animosity in the police force for the paranormal was rife.
“Smell you later, Lars.”
“Bye.” When Max was gone, Lars added, “Sorry about him. Shall we?” He gestured to the interview room.
“Let’s do this.”
Lars opened the door, leading the way inside.
Mr. Visser was sat at a white table, ramrod straight, staring ahead.
Lars told him we were here in Dutch, then we went to sit opposite him.
“Hallo,” I said.
Lars left the room.
Mr. Visser didn’t answer.
“This is my partner Jake Winter from the agency.”
“We’re very sorry for your loss,” Jake added.
No response, not even a blink.
“Mr. Visser?” I continued. “As you know, we’d like to ask you a few more questions about your wife’s disappearance.”
Silence.
“When I conducted the investigation of your home, I found a trace of pod under your bed. Can you tell us anything about that?”
He blinked then, eyes focusing on me. “You think I did something to hurt her.”
“I didn’t say that, sir.”
“She’s dead. Why is she dead?”
“That’s something we’d really like to find out. Have you had a pod in your house recently?”
“No. Not that I can remember.” He scratched his nose. “You found pod in my home?”
“Yes. A trace of it.” I showed him the images I’d taken.
He looked at them, then went back to staring into space.
“Mr. Visser?”
Silence again.
“Is there a possibility,” Jake took over, “that your wife could’ve harvested pod? We know it happens, gets sold on the black market as a form of pain relief. Was she in a lot of pain?”
“Yes. She was in pain, but she would not do that.” His eyes moved to the door. “Desperation is a terrible thing.”
Jake leaned forward. “Did desperation drive to her pod? Did you help her?”
His eyes narrowed. “What are you saying? That I would allow my wife to touch that poison?”
“No,” Jake replied. “I’m just asking. It’s okay if you did. We all do things in the heat of the moment without thinking of the consequences. Maybe you tried to help her get away from the pain.”
I watched Mr. Visser’s fists clench. “You accuse me of harming my wife.”
Not this route again. “Jake isn’t accusing you of anything. He’s doing his job. You know, like before, when we spoke? We have to ask these questions. You don’t need to be offended by them.”
He sagged forward. “I just want my wife.”
“I know.”
“I do not know why there is a trace of pod in my home.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “We just wanted to check with you.”
“I want to go home.”
“Okay. I think you need to be out of here, to have time alone. Someone will take you home.”
Jake looked at me.
Nothing helpful would come out of this. Mr. Visser was too deep in the mire of shock and grief. This wasn’t fair to him.
“Thank you,” Mr. Visser said.
I got up, Jake echoing my move, and stepped out into the corridor.
“What happened?” Lars asked.
“Can you get him home, please? He doesn’t know anything. We’ll have to revisit this later, not fresh off an ID.”
“No problem,” Lars said. “This wasn’t the best idea. I’ll get him home.”
“Thanks, Lars.”
He headed off to make the arrangements.
“So,” Jake said, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. “You believe him?”
“No. He knows something.”
“Good we have surveillance up, then.”
I threw an arm around his shoulders. “Shall we go home?”
“Seriously?”
“We’re done here until the body becomes available. I’ll draft up the report so far on the sofa, and then we’ll have more time with Lou.”
The smile on his face was a joy to witness. “She’s gonna be so ha—"
Lars burst back through the doors, complete seriousness on his face.
Oh, shit. I stepped forward. “What’s happened?”
“There’s been another one.”
Rembrantplein should have been bustling. It was normally a hive of activity—pubs and restaurants and coffee shops full of people, trams running back and forth. But there was no ding of a tram’s bell, no one eating their brunch alfresco. Instead, there was police everywhere, sealing off every point of entry into the square, crowds gathered at the fringes trying to get a look at what some had already seen. I could hear someone shrieking—the witness.
Another body with its bones removed. It’d been found by a British woman coming out of the apartment she’d rented for her holiday. From the main entrance to the building was a tiny, narrow alleyway, only a few feet long that opened out between two bars via a coded gate. As she’d stepped out of the apartment building, she’d found the body of her boyfriend in that small alleyway.
We were now standing in the same space, looking down at the gory mess.
“Bloody hell,” Jake whispered beside me.
The skin wasn’t piled into the same morbid folds of Mrs. Visser. This victim had been torn into, skin and sinew and blood splattering the walls. The man’s face was deflated and creased, free of its skull.
