Read Online The House of Dolls by David Hewson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Hewson
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family of dolls.
Vosbent down, pulled the elastic bands out of his pocket, bent down to put them on his jeans.
She was there straight away, hand on his shoulder.
‘No, Vos. I’ve seen that once and I don’t want to see it again. Here. I brought you a present. They’re spares.’
A pair of shiny black bicycle clips. Brand new. He looked at her loose grey trousers. She had the same.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
13
Two o’clock in Marnixstraat. Koeman sat silent in a chair, rubbing his droopy brown moustache, reading the
Telegraaf
sports pages.
Liesbeth Prins was in a huddle with her husband, eyeing the sharply dressed woman talking to Klaas Mulder outside the interview room.
‘It’s Katja’s voice. In the doll,’ she said. ‘Her blood. Her hair.’
De Groot had played them the tape when Prins finally arrived. Fifteen seconds of agonized screeching. One word at the end, over and over again.
Vader. Vader.
‘She never called me father,’ Prins said.
‘It’s her . . .’
‘I know it’s her. She never called me father. Think about this. Please . . .’
He took her hands. Tried to peer into her eyes.
‘I know this is my fault. I couldn’t stop it happening with her mother. I should have done something . . .’
Liesbeth was starting to get angry.
‘Katja couldn’t do this herself. She’s not up to it.’
‘One of her druggie friends then.’
‘Someone’s taken her, Wim! The same man who took Anneliese. I know what this is like. I don’t want to go through it again. I don’t want it for you. We have to do something . . .’
‘Such as?’ he asked and the question silenced her.
He was glancing at the corridor. Margriet Willemsen was talking earnestly to Mulder.
‘I don’t like that woman,’ she whispered.
‘Mulder’s our link man for De Nachtwacht. We’ve got a meeting.’
‘Is Katja getting in the way of your schedule or something?’
‘For God’s sake!’ He hardly ever raised his voice. ‘I’ll do whatever they ask. Just don’t expect to—’
‘What?’
‘Believe it. The crap I’ve put up with from that kid. You don’t know the half of it.’
She realized how much her anger hurt him. Struggled for something to say.
‘I watched her mother lose it,’ he said in a low, aggrieved voice. ‘Day by day. Then Katja went the same way and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do to stop her. Don’t lecture me, Liesbeth. I don’t deserve that. Why do you think I came up with De Nachtwacht in the first place? I want these scum and their poison off our streets for good.’
‘This isn’t about politics.’
‘I never realized you and Katja were so close,’ he said with a bitter look in his face.
‘What are we going to do?’
‘You can stay here if you like. If someone gets in touch . . .’
‘I asked for Pieter. He’s better than any of . . .’
He looked at her, open-mouthed, astonished.
‘You think your crazy old boyfriend can fix this? He did that before, didn’t he?’
It was so quick she never even thought about it. Liesbeth Prins slapped her husband hard on the face. One swift blow, open-handed.
She’d never struck him before. Thought about it though.
He had his hand to his cheek. Face going red, through fury, through the slap, she wasn’t sure which.
The door opened. Klaas Mulder came in. The Willemsen woman stayed outside, staring at the blank walls.
‘Is there anything else you want to ask?’ Mulder asked, looking at both of them.
Prins straightened his tie.
‘Is Pieter Vos back with the police?’
No expression on Mulder’s stony face.
‘He’s helping out today. The commissaris thought it was a good idea. If there’s a link—’
‘They get cunning when they need something,’ Prins broke in. ‘Addicts have no morals. No feelings. They’ll do anything. Doesn’t matter how much it hurts. Their friends. Their family. Themselves . . .’
‘We’ve got an open mind,’ Mulder said as Koeman noisily rustled the sports pages
Vosbent down, pulled the elastic bands out of his pocket, bent down to put them on his jeans.
She was there straight away, hand on his shoulder.
‘No, Vos. I’ve seen that once and I don’t want to see it again. Here. I brought you a present. They’re spares.’
A pair of shiny black bicycle clips. Brand new. He looked at her loose grey trousers. She had the same.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
13
Two o’clock in Marnixstraat. Koeman sat silent in a chair, rubbing his droopy brown moustache, reading the
Telegraaf
sports pages.
Liesbeth Prins was in a huddle with her husband, eyeing the sharply dressed woman talking to Klaas Mulder outside the interview room.
‘It’s Katja’s voice. In the doll,’ she said. ‘Her blood. Her hair.’
De Groot had played them the tape when Prins finally arrived. Fifteen seconds of agonized screeching. One word at the end, over and over again.
Vader. Vader.
‘She never called me father,’ Prins said.
‘It’s her . . .’
‘I know it’s her. She never called me father. Think about this. Please . . .’
He took her hands. Tried to peer into her eyes.
‘I know this is my fault. I couldn’t stop it happening with her mother. I should have done something . . .’
Liesbeth was starting to get angry.
‘Katja couldn’t do this herself. She’s not up to it.’
‘One of her druggie friends then.’
‘Someone’s taken her, Wim! The same man who took Anneliese. I know what this is like. I don’t want to go through it again. I don’t want it for you. We have to do something . . .’
‘Such as?’ he asked and the question silenced her.
He was glancing at the corridor. Margriet Willemsen was talking earnestly to Mulder.
‘I don’t like that woman,’ she whispered.
‘Mulder’s our link man for De Nachtwacht. We’ve got a meeting.’
‘Is Katja getting in the way of your schedule or something?’
‘For God’s sake!’ He hardly ever raised his voice. ‘I’ll do whatever they ask. Just don’t expect to—’
‘What?’
‘Believe it. The crap I’ve put up with from that kid. You don’t know the half of it.’
She realized how much her anger hurt him. Struggled for something to say.
‘I watched her mother lose it,’ he said in a low, aggrieved voice. ‘Day by day. Then Katja went the same way and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do to stop her. Don’t lecture me, Liesbeth. I don’t deserve that. Why do you think I came up with De Nachtwacht in the first place? I want these scum and their poison off our streets for good.’
‘This isn’t about politics.’
‘I never realized you and Katja were so close,’ he said with a bitter look in his face.
‘What are we going to do?’
‘You can stay here if you like. If someone gets in touch . . .’
‘I asked for Pieter. He’s better than any of . . .’
He looked at her, open-mouthed, astonished.
‘You think your crazy old boyfriend can fix this? He did that before, didn’t he?’
It was so quick she never even thought about it. Liesbeth Prins slapped her husband hard on the face. One swift blow, open-handed.
She’d never struck him before. Thought about it though.
He had his hand to his cheek. Face going red, through fury, through the slap, she wasn’t sure which.
The door opened. Klaas Mulder came in. The Willemsen woman stayed outside, staring at the blank walls.
‘Is there anything else you want to ask?’ Mulder asked, looking at both of them.
Prins straightened his tie.
‘Is Pieter Vos back with the police?’
No expression on Mulder’s stony face.
‘He’s helping out today. The commissaris thought it was a good idea. If there’s a link—’
‘They get cunning when they need something,’ Prins broke in. ‘Addicts have no morals. No feelings. They’ll do anything. Doesn’t matter how much it hurts. Their friends. Their family. Themselves . . .’
‘We’ve got an open mind,’ Mulder said as Koeman noisily rustled the sports pages
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