Free DeKok and the Sorrowing Tomcat by Albert Cornelis Baantjer Page B

had penetrated the body to the hilt. Upon further investigation, Dr. Rusteloos concluded that the wound must almost certainly have caused the death of the victim. The weapon had penetrated one of the lungs and the upper left chamber of the heart.”
    Pensively DeKok pulled on his lower lip.
    â€œAlmost eight inches … quite a bit.”
    Vledder nodded agreement.
    â€œI’ve never seen a dagger like that before. It looked like an antique Italian poniard. Nice handwork on the silver handle, the grip, I mean.”
    â€œAre they doing anything with it, in Seadike?”
    â€œYes, they made pictures for circulation. They also want to check with antique dealers. It’s a special weapon, possibly antique, as I said.”
    â€œWas there any mention about press, or TV?”
    â€œNot that I know of. They’ll probably wait until they’ve checked everything else.”
    Constable Bever entered the interrogation room at that moment. He had a folder under his arm. His face looked gray and his jovial expression was obscured by a worried look.
    â€œHere’s my report,” he said dejectedly. “I had to re-write it four times.” He snorted. “One thing is for sure. I’ll never, ever shoot again. As far as I’m concerned they can have my pistol right now. Boy, oh, boy, what a trouble over two shots. Everybody is after your ass, the Inspector, the Chief-Inspector, the Commissaris, people from Internal Investigation, Headquarters, you name it. Couldn’t you have done this? Or couldn’t you have done that? Didn’t you think it irresponsible to shoot in the street? After all, it’s a bit risky, you know constable, you could have hit an innocent bystander. Did you think about that? Did you think about this? You never know what happens to the ricochet, you know. What if there had been a woman in the way, or a baby, would you still have used your pistol?…”
    He slammed the report in front of Dekok, interrupting his Jeremiad.
    â€œDammit,” he continued, “What in hell do they want from me? After all, you have to make a split decision and you do that, right?” He snorted again, managing to sound both indignant and sad. “After all,” he concluded, “in a situation like that you simply don’t have time to weigh all the consequences.”
    DeKok smiled a winning smile.
    â€œThree million makes people nervous,” he remarked cryptically.
    Bever put a hand in a pocket of his uniform coat.
    â€œHere’s a letter for you,” he growled, unwilling to listen to reason. “It was left with the desk-sergeant.”
    â€œThank you.”
    Bever turned around and walked away without another word.
    DeKok looked after him.
    Constable Bever had grown years older in a single day.
    Vledder picked up the letter and sniffed.
    â€œPerfume,” he established. He laughed at DeKok.
    â€œI’m not surprised,” he teased, “I bet it’s from a beautiful blonde.”
    DeKok ignored the remark. He took the letter in his hands, pulled a small pocket knife from a pocket and opened the envelope. After having read the note from beginning to end, he repeated it out loud for Vledder’s benefit.
    Dear Mr. DeKok:
    Thank you very much for your help. Our conversation has opened my eyes.
    I now know what I have to do. You’ll hear from me.
    Flossie
    Vledder frowned.
    â€œFlossie … Flossie? Didn’t Mother Geffel mention a Flossie, last night? Isn’t that Pete’s girlfriend?”
    â€œIndeed.”
    â€œAnd you talked to her?”
    â€œIndeed.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œLast night, or rather, early this morning. After I took you home, I found her waiting for me outside the station house. I must say, it was an interesting conversation.”
    â€œOh, yes?”
    â€œYes. Flossie, or as she’s generally known more formally, Florentine La Croix, told me that she had loved her Peter