A Cold Death in Amsterdam (Lotte Meerman Book 1) Read Online Free

prison?’
    ‘No. Outside his house.’
    I grinned at Hans. ‘Must have been the wife then, nothing to do with your Ferdinand.’
    ‘She had a perfect alibi,’ Stefanie said, unsmiling.
    I was reading and talking at the same time, trying to see what would get me the information I needed first. ‘What was he in for?’
    She lifted her eyebrows. ‘You don’t remember him?’
    ‘Should I?’
    ‘He was the head of Petersen Capital. We busted them for fraud.’
    I shrugged; finance never was my area of interest.
    ‘They were the darlings of the financial industry for years, a high-flying investment fund putting up all these wonderful returns, but it turned out it was all bogus. Millions of euros disappeared. They never found the money . . .’
    ‘And Van Ravensberger?’
    ‘One of the investors Petersen embezzled.’
    I nodded. ‘Get me the rest of the files on this.’
    ‘They’re in my office. You can fetch them yourself.’
    ‘You want this done, right? So bring me what you’ve got. I’m going to talk to the boss.’
     
    Chief Inspector Moerdijk was writing with his head bent low over his desk. I stood in the doorway for a second before knocking on the doorframe to get his attention.
    ‘Hi, Lotte,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Not too annoyed about having to work with our friends from the Financial Fraud department, I hope.’
    I took a seat. I wouldn’t describe Stefanie Dekkers as a friend. ‘It’s fine.’
    CI Moerdijk was an efficient man. Even his body didn’t have a gram of redundant fat, not one extra layer where none was needed. His white hair and thin frame gave him the look of a zealot, the type who would, centuries ago, have been a firebrand preacher, but who in today’s society worshipped at the temple of athletics. He was a serious marathon runner and triathlete. He claimed running gave him time to think, but I suspected that running allowed him to forget.
    ‘You’re done with the Wendy Leeuwenhoek files? You haven’t forgotten you’re taking the evidence to the prosecution office tomorrow, I hope.’
    I imagined giving my files and report to the prosecutor, chatting about the murder and talking about the upcoming trial – and it made me feel as if a rat was gnawing at my stomach. I knew then that I wouldn’t be able to talk about it, not even about the parts I’d put in the report. I couldn’t go through with it – couldn’t face going to the prosecution office tomorrow. I was too tired; it would be too hard. I was in no fit state to lie.
    ‘Yes, it’s done,’ I said. Maybe when my report had left my desk, I would finally stop thinking about that little girl and about the errors of judgement that had brought me such unwanted recognition.
    ‘Good, good. You’ve made sure it’s watertight?’ the CI asked.
    ‘It is.’
    ‘So you can start on Van Ravensberger?’
    ‘I don’t think there’s much in it, but Stefanie Dekkers has come up with something.’
    ‘Anything promising?’
    ‘Otto Petersen . . .’
    ‘One of my old cases?’ His voice rose in the middle of the sentence, turning it into a surprised half-question. ‘One of my early ones.’ He screwed the top on his fountain pen and put it down. ‘Think it’s got legs?’
    ‘I’m pretty sure it hasn’t. But if you want me to work with Stefanie for two weeks, I might as well have a look at some of the things she suggests.’
    ‘Sure. I don’t think I looked at Van Ravensberger for that at all.’ He took his glasses off and dangled them from one hand. ‘I can’t remember all of it, but I would have remembered him.’
    ‘He was an investor.’
    ‘In Petersen Capital?’
    ‘That’s right.’
    The chief inspector pursed his lips. ‘OK, why not. We looked at some of the other investors, especially after the Alkmaar police made such a mess of it. You don’t expect these local forces to be up to much, but . . .’
    ‘Who worked on it?’ I managed to keep my voice neutral as if I wasn’t that interested in