Girl in the Dark (17 page)

It was clear that Renzo de Winter, the detective who had led the homicide team in Ray's case, wasn't interested in meeting with me.

“I assure you every avenue was pursued in our investigation,” he said. “All the facts point to your client's guilt. I don't know what you're hoping to dig up. Besides, I don't have to tell you I am not permitted to disclose any information about the case without the attorney general's approval.”

“I completely understand that you can't say anything on the record. I'm just here for an informal chat.” I looked out the window to take the pressure off the conversation. A young couple was cycling down the street holding hands. They looked happy.

Renzo de Winter gave a deep sigh.

“Please?”

“Off the record. It was a pretty straightforward case as far as we were concerned. Boelens had a history of violence, he had a motive, he was present at the scene of the crime, and he made a number of incriminating statements. That's four important grounds for indictment. In general it takes no more than two to bring it to
the judge.” Renzo de Winter gazed at me with a weary look. I suspected he was younger than he looked.

“What do you mean by ‘history of violence'? My client didn't have a rap sheet.”

“Your client spent his adolescence in an institution for troubled youth. His school records state he killed a dog when he was nine.”

I tried to keep my face expressionless.
What kind of kid would kill an innocent animal?
Maybe my mother was right: I had no idea what kind of man Ray was.

“The neighbors also told us he'd slashed up the victim's boyfriend's car. Let me see . . .” De Winter rummaged through an impressive stack of papers on his desk. “Here it is: Boelens stormed outside with a kitchen knife and began slashing Mr. Asscher's tires. Next he broke the jaguar ornament off the hood and used it to smash the windshield. Never seemed to show remorse.”

I tried not to think about the dead dog and concentrated on Asscher's Jag instead. “Did Asscher file a complaint?”

De Winter sighed, irritated. “No.”

“Strange.”

“What difference does it make? I'm sure the Jaguar repair shop could dig up a damage report for you. Mr. Asscher must have had his reasons.”

“He must have. But can you explain to me why the police never took a statement from Asscher regarding the murder?”

“Unnecessary.”

“Why?”

“Because Mr. Asscher was away on vacation when the murder occurred.”

“Right. Well, then, could you explain the circumstances in which Mr. Boelens's statements were taken?”

“How do you mean?”

I took out my own stack of papers. “Let's see. Here: ‘It was clear that Rosita and Anna were stabbed with a sharp object. I'm thinking of a carving knife, such as the one I have at home.' Are those literally Mr. Boelens's own words?”

“Yes.”

“It reads a bit forced to me. Especially this: ‘I hereby swear that no words were put in my mouth and that I make this statement of my own free will and without any threats or promises extended.' That sounds like a rather formal way for a baker to speak, don't you think? Knowing Mr. Boelens as I do, I can't imagine him using these words. Nor can I see Mr. Boelens being so enamored with the strong arm of the law that he would go out of his way to protect the officer who took the statement.”

“Ms. Kastelein, I am sure you have a fine legal mind, but really, this case couldn't be more straightforward. Policemen are human, naturally, and if you kept digging you'd be bound to come across a typo or two, or some unfortunate wording. But what of it? As far as we are concerned, the culprit was caught and is paying for his crimes. Justice prevailed.”

“How did Boelens strike you? Did he seem confused?”

De Winter glanced at his watch. “I'm running late.”

“Was Boelens responsive? Did he understand what was happening?”

“He was panic-stricken. Because he knew what he'd done and knew
we
knew it, too.”

“Panic-stricken?”

“He just went on and on about his fish. He kept raging and yelling about them.”

“Ah, yes, he did . . .” I remembered the logbook Ray had kept so meticulously for all those years. The prizes he'd won. The way he'd tenderly touched the photos of his fish with his fingertips af
ter I'd handed them to him. “He was in a panic about his beloved fish. And yet you claim that he managed to dictate a statement in elegant, well-turned prose.”

“We did our best, naturally, to calm him down, and promised him we'd make sure the fish were looked after. We aren't ogres, you know.”

“Or did you promise to look after the fish in exchange for his statement?”

“Now you're going too far.” Again De Winter looked at his watch. “Time's up.”

“Is there a recording of the interrogation?”

De Winter looked at me, irked. “I know what you're getting at. You think I have closed my mind, that I have tunnel vision. But I can assure you that this happens to be one of those cases in which I am absolutely convinced we got the right guy. I know you are just trying to do your job, but this one is a total waste of time. Not that I suppose you care. How many billable hours are you getting out of this little visit? Three? Four?”

I tried to keep my cool. Mentally I was hurling the contents of the entire police station at De Winter's head.

“I'm sure your boss is delighted,” said De Winter.

“Now
you're
the one going too far.”

Iris Kastelein who said she was my sister was also going to be my lawyer.

“What's she going to do, then?” I asked Mo. We were sitting in the same office where I'd smashed the dracaena against the wall. Mo was one of the only ones I was still willing to talk to. All the others had tricked me. Jeannie and her too-sour, too-sticky bread; Hank and his lightning bolt; Eddie who called me Raynus; Rembrandt who called me Rainman. They were the ones who'd left the drugs in my room.

I wasn't completely sure if I could trust Mo, either, but I had to have
someone
. That's what the Mason Home principal used to say. “I know you have trouble trusting people, but if you're willing to risk it, then take a gamble on me. Because you've got to have
someone
.” The principal had never let me down. Never. He'd made the others stop teasing me, and he'd signed me up for baking school. He had taken me to the planetarium and was always nice to me. And he often told me, “You're going to be okay, Ray.” But I hadn't been okay.

“Iris wants to find out if the murder investigation and the trial were handled properly.” Mo spoke very slowly. “The trial that led
to your incarceration. You yourself asked her to help you, don't you remember?”

I did remember. Even though I was tired of it all. “And then?”

“I don't know. It depends on what emerges from her investigation, I think. Anyway, it does mean that, as your attorney, your sister can visit you more often. Would you like that?”

I stared at the wall, at the spot where the plant had hit the white plaster. It no longer showed. Iris Kastelein who said she was my sister wanted to visit more often. Which meant she'd bring me more pictures of the fish and tell me about them. But it also meant I'd have to pee in the cup in front of the nurse without the white coat again. And then they'd find drugs in my cell and then they'd put me in solitary again.

“I know you keep telling Dr. Römerman you didn't do it. If that's true, then here's your chance to prove your innocence.”

“And then?”

“They'll let you go home.”

I looked at Mo's face, which always seemed kind to me. I thought about the pictures of all the faces they'd shown me in therapy. The way you could tell from the mouth or the eyes if someone was happy or not.

“What's bothering you, Ray? What are you afraid of?”

“I don't want to go back to solitary,” I said. “Never again.”

“That's completely up to you,” said Mo. “If you abide by the rules, there's no reason for you to be put into solitary.”

“Oh no? Oh no? So what happened last time? Why was I thrown into solitary when I'd done nothing wrong? Nothing!”

“You threw a plant at Jeannie's head.”

“She told me I wouldn't be allowed to do the gardening anymore. Don't you know I'm the one who trims the hedges? It's the only thing that makes me feel good. Because I still don't have my
fish. Even though I'm always being told ‘we'll discuss it' and ‘we'll think about it.' Meanwhile weeks go by and I'm
still
waiting for an answer.”

Mo was no longer smiling. He looked serious. His eyebrows were wrinkled; the corners of his mouth went straight across. “Ray, did those drugs belong to you?”

I banged my hand on the table. “Don't I keep telling you? I don't have any drugs! I don't use drugs! And I don't smoke, either and how the hell am I ever going to get out of here if nobody ever believes me?” I kept talking without stopping for breath. My head was spinning.

“Easy. Relax, nothing to get so upset about.” Mo showed me how to breathe. “That's it. That's better. Feeling better? Listen, it's quite possible those drugs were hidden in your suite by someone else. It wouldn't be the first time. In fact, an investigation has been set up to find out what happened.”

“Really?”

“Of course. But back to Iris. Let's arrange another meeting?”

“Will I have to pee into a cup?”

“There
is
that possibility.”

I hesitated. I never again wanted to have to show my naked penis to the woman who didn't wear a white coat, but I also had to think of my fish. Of how I longed for Iris Kastelein who said she was my sister to tell me about them.

“But no matter what, you will have to go and have your urine tested from time to time. Whether you have visitors or not. Everyone is supposed to get tested every once in a while.”

I stared at Mo. I wished I could read him, the way most folks know how to read other people. “
Normal
people,” according to my mother. Though Rosita had decided my mother was far from normal herself, and my mother didn't think Rosita was normal either.
Maybe Iris Kastelein who said she was my sister was someone who was normal.

“Anyway, your sister is a very nice lady. She's got your best interests at heart.”

“That's what they all say. Everybody always has my best interests at heart, and look where that got me.”

Mo laughed. “Trust me.”

I could say no, and then I'd never get out of here. I could say yes and never get out of here, either, and make things even harder for myself. But there
was
a chance Iris Kastelein could help me, and that could happen only if I said yes. It was a risk. I hated taking risks.

Then I remembered my fish. “Fine, let Iris Kastelein who says she's my sister come.”

That afternoon they let me return to the workshop for the first time since I'd been in solitary. The plants had all been labeled, it seemed, because our job was to insert blank CDs into see-through cases.

I liked the plants better than the CDs. I liked finding out what the plants needed: a lot of light or just a little, to be watered daily or once a week, and whether they could stay outside in winter. The CDs didn't provide much useful information. The brand name was TDK and all it said on them was
CD-RW,
and
4x–12x high-speed, 80 minutes/700 MB
.

I sat at a round table with a box of CDs in front of me and a box of plastic cases. You were supposed to fill at least a hundred cases an hour; the pay was two euro. After the first hundred, you got two cents extra per case. If you filled less than a hundred, you got nothing.

Hank was there, and a bunch of other guys I didn't know. Hank never sat next to me anymore since I'd gotten out of solitary. I had no idea why. He used to say we were “mates.” You wouldn't have guessed it.

Hank was furiously at work, filling cases like a maniac. I saw sweat patches under his armpits. I thought about the smell of tobacco always coming off him, and about the sweat patches. I ought to go up to him and tell him he was a traitor. A filthy, stinking, double-crossing traitor.

There was a clock on the wall. I'd been working for half an hour and had only done twenty cases.

“What up, little Rainman?” Rembrandt came and sat down next to me. I put another CD into a case, but my hands wouldn't do what I wanted. First the CD wouldn't slip into the groove, and then I couldn't close the sleeve properly. I tried forcing it, but then one of the hinges snapped. I quickly added the broken case to the pile, hoping no one would notice.

“Had fun in the hole? Do any nice doodling on the blackboard?”

I took another CD from the box. This time I did manage to get it into the case without damaging either it or the case. I felt myself starting to sweat. If I wasn't careful the sweat would show right through my shirt, like Hank's.

“You don't talk much, do you, dog? I like that. Can't never trust people that talk too much. The more shit they talk, the more they trying to hide, that's what I say.” He inserted a CD in a case and deposited it on my pile with a big wink. “Must be burning a hole in that little brain of yours trying to figure out who done you in.”

“Huh?”

Rembrandt leaned in closer. He smelled of aftershave. It smelled like the stuff in the blue bottle Rosita once bought me for Christmas. It was sexy, she said. She'd pressed her nose into my neck
and inhaled the smell. “Mm, smells delicious on you, Ray.” With Rembrandt sitting so close to me, I was getting almost as light-headed as I got then.

“I know, Ray. I know who's been fucking with you.”

One of the CD cases cracked again.

“I could tell you, Ray Baby. But I could also
not
tell you. It all depends.” He casually filled another case and put it on my pile.

I didn't know what to say.

“Go on, ask me. Nice and sweet, just like your momma taught you.”

My hands were shaking and I felt the sweat rolling down my back. If only I knew what he wanted.

He reached out and touched my shoulder. It gave me goose bumps.

“You know where to find me. And take it easy with those cases.” He walked over to Hank's table and sat down. The two of them started talking and laughing.

I tried to concentrate on the CDs. I managed not to break any more, and to fill ninety-one.

“Ah, too bad,” said the workshop supervisor. “Do you want to try again for another hour, to see if you can make a hundred?”

“I want to go back to my cell.”

“Your
suite.
In that case I'll see you tomorrow. Then you can try again. And the day after tomorrow we're assembling TV remotes. Maybe you'll do better at that.”