DeKok and the Sorrowing Tomcat Read Online Free PDF Page B

his face. “Is that another reason to suspect us? Our lawyers checked carefully. There’s no financial damage to our company.”
    DeKok shook his head and sighed.
    â€œI never worried about that for a moment,” he said. He motioned toward Vledder. “Come on, Dick,” he continued, “It’s about time we were leaving. It would be impolite to impose any longer on the hospitality of Mr. Bent.”
    Vledder lifted the cat from his lap and handed the animal to the furious manager.
    â€œIn case you remember anything,” said the young inspector politely, “that may help us in tracking down the perps, we’d be much obliged if you…”
    Bent made a violent gesture.
    â€œYou may … you may…”
    â€œMay what, Mr. Bent?”
    DeKok intervened. He was not interested in a permanent breach of communications. He always liked to leave an opening.
    â€œI understand,” he said pleasantly, “that the concerns of your company are close to your heart. We only want to find the perpetrators. That’s the only purpose of our questions. There’s absolutely no question of trying to blacken the name of your organization.”
    DeKok sighed. After everything that had been said, and thought, it was a lame speech. But the president became visibly calmer. The color drained from his face, his gestures became more controlled. He led Vledder and DeKok to the door.
    The parting was cool, almost icy.
    â€œI would appreciate,” said Bent formally, “being kept informed of the progress of the case.”
    DeKok looked at him sharply.
    â€œEven if,… eh, if the developments take a turn that may be less pleasant for you?”
    Bent pressed his lips together.
    â€œYes,” he hissed, “then, too. Especially then.”
    The inspectors walked down the driveway. At the gate Vledder stopped to rub black cat hairs off his coat.
    DeKok looked back at the house. His eyebrows rippled in amazement. He saw the slender shape of a young woman behind one of the windows of the study they had just left.

4
    â€œFound out anything about the car, yet?”
    Greanheather, the old desk-sergeant looked up absent-mindedly. With the pen still poised over the entry in the logbook, he stared at Vledder and DeKok.
    â€œWhat car?” he asked finally.
    â€œThe car that was used in the hold-up, of course.”
    The desk-sergeant grinned.
    â€œOh,” he said with a prim mouth, “you mean the Simca with NG-12-83. No, no news about that. The APB is still in force.”
    â€œWhat about the other Simca?”
    Sergeant Greanheather pushed the logbook aside and pulled a folder in front of him. From that he produced a number of message flimsies.
    â€œI read here,” he said, “that only one of the two Simcas has been located so far. That’s the blue Simca that was stolen from Heemstede, the suburb of Haarlem. The heavily damaged car was found on Route A-17 near Gouda. It had been driven head-on into one of the columns supporting an overpass. The front-end was caved in and the car is a total loss.” He shook his head sadly, as if in commiseration. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t the Simca you’re after. The car still had its original license plates. Thus not NG-12-83. Also, there were no bullet holes in the trunk.” He looked at the two inspectors. “And there should be, right?”
    DeKok nodded.
    â€œIndeed, there should be. Constable Bever is convinced that both his shots hit the trunk.”
    The sergeant pursed his lips.
    â€œWell,” he continued, “the lab guys had the crumpled Simca towed to headquarters, here in Amsterdam, and have gone over it with a fine tooth comb. They found no bullet holes of any kind.” he paused. “Therefore,” he continued pompously, “it has been established that the Simca that was stolen from Heemstede, was not the same vehicle that was used during the robbery. That