DeKok and the Sorrowing Tomcat Read Online Free Page B

that case I will announce the gentlemen. Who can I say?”
    DeKok lifted his little felt hat in a polite gesture.
    â€œMy name is DeKok, with … eh, kay-oh-kay. This is my colleague, Vledder. We are, by the grace of our Chief Constable, * Detective-Inspectors attached to the Warmoes Street station.”
    The neatly dressed gentleman turned around and disappeared into the booth. Through the glass the two inspectors observed him making another bow while he spoke into the telephone. It was a comical sight. When the conversation had been concluded he emerged from his glass cage.
    â€œMr. Bent,” he spoke self-importantly, “prefers to have his interview with the gentlemen elsewhere, not here in the office, but in his study at home. Mr. Bent will be down directly and lead the way.”
    Almost simultaneously with this announcement, they observed a muscular man descending by way of one of the marble staircases. He was a well-preserved man in his fifties with quick and athletic movements. He approached the two policemen with outstretched hand.
    â€œI hope you won’t mind coming home with me. I promised my wife I’d be home early.” He made a joking gesture. “A promise to a beautiful woman has the force of Law.”
    DeKok looked at him.
    â€œAnd what would you call the promise from a beautiful woman?”
    The question seemed to touch Bent particularly. A hint of steel flickered momentarily in his eyes.
    â€œThe promise from a beautiful woman,” he answered thoughtfully and slowly, “is fleeting like perfume. It’s seldom more than a sweet dream.”
    He seemed to be lost in thought. Then he laughed broadly.
    â€œWould you gentlemen ride with me?”
    DeKok nodded carelessly.
    â€œAs you wish,” he drawled.
    He never objected to meeting his potential opponents in their own surroundings. It sometimes gave him surprising insights.
    *   *   *
    Bent steered the big, heavy Bentley with a steady hand through the busy Amsterdam traffic. Meanwhile he talked lightly with Vledder next to him about various models of cars he had owned, or had tried out. He studiously avoided any reference to the hold-up. There was a painful silence when Vledder asked guilelessly what sort of car Bent thought most suitable for hold-ups.
    The B&G president was visibly embarrassed by the question. But his confusion did not last long. He controlled himself almost immediately and remarked that he had never contemplated the use of any specific model in connection with a hold-up. DeKok did not participate in the conversation. He was comfortably ensconced on the back seat and listened. He was not particularly interested in the subject matter of the conversation, but he listened with considerable attention to the intonation of the words, the sound of the voices. In his opinion, Bent was less than straight-forward. The attitude of the president was too emphatically cheerful, too deliberately nonchalant. It was phony.
    DeKok wondered what bothered the man. The hold-up? The loss of three million?
    Bent’s house was on the left side of the Amstel river, just outside the city limits. It was a splendid old villa with a thatched roof, partly hidden from view by a fine tangle of bare tree branches and twigs. Bent parked in a garage with an easy elan that showed much practice.
    From the garage Bent led the way through an inside passage to a large room with big windows, that afforded a beautiful view of the river. To the left of the windows stood a solid, oak desk of immense proportions. It was heavily decorated with intricate carvings. The remaining walls of the room were covered from floor to ceiling with books and in the center of the room four easy chairs were grouped around a round table made of rare wood. A big, black tomcat was curled up in one of the chairs. It stood up, stretched itself and idly gazed at the visitors. For only a moment. Then the animal settled in its former