When in Bruges (Humorous Romantic Mystery) (3 page)

“
A
nything we can do
to help?” she said, concerned.

“Hey, that’s a great idea,” said Lauren. “We could help spread the word or something. Organize a rally or paper the neighborhood with fliers or whatever it is you politicians do.”

“Oh, no,” said Piet, dismissing the offer with a gentle wave of the hand. “I couldn’t possibly drag you into that particular quagmire. Politics has become quite brutal these last few years. My opponent…” Once again his face darkened. “Well, let’s just say the man doesn’t play fair and square.” His voice dropped an octave as his eyes scanned the terrace. “Not fair and square at all.”

“He’s a hardliner, is he?” said Lauren. “We have quite some experience with that, haven’t we, Kate?”

“One of my stepdads briefly went into politics,” explained Kate. “But he couldn’t hack it. His opponent launched a smear campaign against him, and in spite of the fact they were all lies, it worked like a charm and he lost the election. Tough business, politics.”

“You have no idea,” said Piet, taking a sip from his coffee. Then, seeming to feel he was among friends and family, he loosened up. “My opponent doesn’t eschew the meanest tricks in the book. You know what he’s gone and done now? He’s blackmailing me. A new low, even for him.”

“What? No way!” said Kate, appalled.

Piet shook his head gravely. “It’s quite true. He took some pictures of me that are, um, of an exceedingly private nature, and is threatening to have them published if I don’t award him a substantial sum of money. Which I’m sure will go straight into his campaign fund. These elections eat up money, as you probably well know.”

“But that’s illegal!” said Lauren. “You should go to the cops.”

Piet coughed and stubbed out his cigar. “Well, the thing is that these pictures are extremely personal. If the police got involved…” He shifted in his seat. “Bruges is a very small town and rumors spread faster than lice on mice. If word got out, I would most certainly lose the elections.”

“You have to let us help you,” said Kate. “I mean, Lauren and I, we’re both cops. At least, I used to be one before I retired. Maybe there’s a way to get our hands on these pictures somehow?”

Piet regarded them both with a twinkle in his eye. “You mean, steal them?”

Kate nodded. “Why not? These men are criminals. Stealing from a thief isn’t really stealing in my book.”

“That’s a great idea, Kate,” said Lauren enthusiastically. “Let’s nail the bastards.”

“I don’t know,” said Piet, fingering his chin dubiously. “Much as I appreciate your offer, these men are dangerous, and this could land you both in a heap of trouble.” Reflecting further, he added, “Not to mention the trouble the campaign would be in if word got out that I asked my own daughter to break the law on my behest.”

“This wouldn’t get back to you, no way,” said Kate, getting more and more excited about her plan. “Nobody knows that I’m your daughter. Heck, we don’t even share the same last name. If we got caught—”

“And we wouldn’t, because we’re so damn good,” interjected Lauren.

“Exactly,” said Kate. “But supposing we do get caught, we’re just two tourists who lost their way and ended up in the wrong house by mistake.”

“Right!” said Lauren. “We just pull the dumb tourist card. Should work like a charm.”

Piet, still skeptical, appeared to be warming to the idea. “It could work,” he admitted. But then he shook his head wearily. “I really can’t ask you to do this, Kate. You came here all the way from the United States to get to know your father and to invite me to your wedding. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

“But—”

“Don’t give the matter another thought,” he said, cheerily dismissing the plan. “Forget I ever mentioned my little trouble, and please, please, please don’t let it spoil your vacation.”

Kate shrugged. “All right. Just out of curiosity, though, who’s the blackmailer? Someone you know?”

“I know him all too well,” said Piet, once again eyeing the other patrons wearily. “Alfonso Gnat, editor-in-chief of the Bruges Chronicle, and occasional blackmailer when he’s in need of funds. And now let’s forget all about this sordid affair and have a drink, all right?”

While Kate’s dad gestured for the waiter to put in an appearance at their table, Kate and Lauren shared a look of understanding. Alfonso Gnat, that look said, was about to have a very rough night indeed.

The rest of the time the mayor of Bruges had allotted to his American daughter and her friend, were spent getting to know each other a little better. The older man was especially interested to learn about Kate’s childhood, and was gratified to discover it had been a happy one. On another note, he was also curious about Kate’s mother. Though he’d eventually remarried, and unfortunately lost his second wife to cancer, he said he’d always considered Kate’s mother the love of his life, and had regretted having not fought harder to save their marriage.

“Your mother was the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said. “Too bad I let her get away.”

Wondering for a brief moment how any man could consider her mother the love of his life, Kate said she felt exactly the same way, and for the first time, father and daughter shared a smile.

Finally, when the time came for Piet to head back to City Hall and resume his duties as first citizen of Bruges, he suggested the three of them get together for dinner that night. And when it turned out the mayor habitually ate out in restaurants anyway—he was an exceedingly social man and since becoming a widower hated to dine at home—Kate suggested they eat at the Inn.

“You’re staying at Queenie’s?” said Piet with a smile.

“We do,” said Kate. “The
Bouquets & Nosegays
came highly recommended by the Lonely Planet, the Rough Guide and all the other travel guides I could find.”

“Well, yes, it does,” said Piet, still smiling. “It’s just that if you stay at Queenie’s, chances are you’re going to get hitched.”

“Hitched?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know how she does it, but practically everybody who’s ever spent the night under Queenie’s roof has eventually fallen in love and gotten married. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I already found love,” said Kate stoically. “So I’m good, thank you.” Why the topic of falling in love kept cropping up, she didn’t know, but it really started to annoy her already.

D
inner at the
Bouquets
& Nosegays
was quite a small affair. Though the Inn was fully booked, many of its guests liked to dine out in one of the many restaurants Bruges sported. Still others had opted to spend the day in other tourist hotspots like Brussels, Antwerp or Ghent, and wouldn’t get back until quite late, enjoying the fine cuisine these cities had to offer.

The dining room, which was located directly opposite the reception desk, looked out onto a terraced garden with so many flowers, many guests brought along their cameras to capture the diversity and beauty. Kate and Lauren, too, had opted to enjoy the balmy evening outside, listening to the soft babble of a fountain and enjoying the delicate fragrance of the floral feast.

The moment their guest arrived, a hush went through the set of diners, for the mayor of Bruges was a well-known figure, even among the tourists. The moment the distinguished burgomaster appeared, he was greeted from all sides, and it took him a little while to join his daughter and Lauren at their table.

“Well, here we are at last,” he said as he sank into a whicker chair. “Had a fine day, I trust?”

“Wonderful,” said Kate.

After the bad turn her morning had taken, what with meeting Chris and all, she and Lauren had done the grand tour of Bruges, boat trip along the canals included, and her mood had completely perked up.

“It’s such a lovely town,” she gushed. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Nor have I,” said Lauren. “I mean, it’s old, but in a nice way, if you know what I mean.”

“Just like a fairy tale,” added Kate.

“I’m glad you like it,” said Piet graciously. “We aim to please.”

He glanced at the menu while Lauren checked the wine card. Just then, Queenie appeared by their side.

“Mr. mayor!” she exclaimed. “Such an honor to have you among us.” She beamed at Kate. “And you have such a lovely daughter.”

“Yes, I have,” said Piet, swelling with pride.

“And I hear she’s getting married soon? You must be so proud.”

“I am. I haven’t met the lucky young man yet, but I will soon.”

“When is the happy occasion? Next month? Wonderful, wonderful. Then you’ll finally meet dear Jacqueline again. Kate really is her spitting image, isn’t she?”

“Oh, she most certainly is,” agreed Kate’s dad.

“Mom?” said Kate, frowning. “How do you—”

“Your mother stayed at the Inn when she was in Bruges all those years ago,” explained Piet. “In fact it was here that we first met, wasn’t it, Queenie?”

“It certainly was,” said Queenie. “I remember like it was yesterday. She was backpacking through Europe and you were helping out in the kitchen, weren’t you?”

“Student job,” said Piet, smiling at the memory. “I was busing tables the day your mom arrived, and accidentally spilled tomato sauce all over her shirt.”

“Love at first sight,” said Queenie, clasping her hands together. “Such a pity it didn’t last.”

“Well, at least something good came of the whole episode,” said Piet, and he warmly pressed his hand atop Kate’s.

Suddenly Queenie uttered a soft squeal of delight. “I just had the most wonderful idea! Why don’t you get married in Bruges? That way your mother can stay here. I’m sure it will bring back the fondest memories.”

Piet laughed and wagged his finger. “Now, now, Queenie. I see what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. Jacqueline and I have been happily divorced for many years now.”

Queenie seemed taken aback. “I certainly didn’t mean to interfere, Piet.”

“Oh, yes, you did,” said her former busboy, fondly giving her arm a squeeze. “You can work your magic all you want, Queenie, but there’s one thing you can’t guarantee: that the couples that come together, stay together. Inevitably some of us won’t make it.”

“Too true,” said Queenie with a dramatic sigh. “I really don’t know what it is about this modern fondness of the divorce procedure. In my day, once you got married, you stayed married. And if you ran into trouble, you worked at it until you found a mutually agreeable solution.”

“Well, fortunately we left the middle ages far behind us,” said Kate. She was really starting to resent Queenie’s meddling ways and old-fashioned notions about marriage and divorce. If a couple didn’t get along, what was the point in dragging out the agony?

“The trick is,” said Queenie, not the least bit disturbed by Kate’s retort, “to pick the right partner from the start. It’s when you marry without love, like some people do…” She directed a pointed look at Kate. “… that you’re bound to run into trouble.”

“I’m marrying for love,” said Kate, as if stung. “Franklin and I couldn’t be more in love if we were characters in a Shakespearian play.”

“Well, it’s not too late yet,” said Queenie, more to herself than to anyone in particular, and after a wistful smile, she turned and walked away.

“What a lovely old lady,” said Lauren.

“What a meddlesome biddy,” said Kate under her breath, afraid to insult her father, in case Queenie was a great personal friend of his.

“Queenie has a big heart,” said Piet. “All she ever wants is for everybody around her to be perfectly happy. And if they aren’t?”

“She beats them into submission?” said Kate with a wry smile.

“Something like that,” admitted Piet.

“I like her,” said Lauren.

“I don’t,” said Kate. “And I particularly don’t like her suggestion to hold the wedding here. Who does she think she is? My mother?”

“Queenie is everybody’s mother,” said the mayor softly, and the same wistfulness that had marked Queenie’s departure now marked him for her own. Could he be pining for his ex-wife, Kate wondered? But then she shook off the sentiment. Of course not. Queenie was making everybody sick with sentimental notions about love and marriage, that was all. She was sure that Piet Peeters, even though now a widower, was perfectly happy.

W
hile Kate
and Lauren enjoyed dinner with Kate’s dad, Chris Van Damme, CEO of Van Damme Security & Co, sat behind his desk, his feet up, arms folded behind his head, gazing before him with unseeing eyes while trying very hard to focus on the business of running a business.

Unfortunately, all he could think about was how lovely Kate had looked that morning, and wondering what she’d done to her hair that made it look so shiny, and pondering his chances at meeting her again.

What he should have been thinking about, of course, was how long a detective agency can survive without having a single case on its docket. The answer was: not very long.

When setting up his new agency, temporarily located in the bedroom of his studio apartment located just off Bruges’s Steen Street and overlooking a chocolate shop, he hadn’t expected his business to go gangbusters from the first. But neither had he expected things to be this slow. It was almost as if Bruges had turned into the one crime-free zone in the whole of Belgium.

True, crime was rare in his hometown, but still, it did occur from time to time, didn’t it? Only last week old Mrs. Moon’s purse had been snatched while she was out shopping. The snatcher, who turned out to be the teenage son of Vernon Gravy, the butcher, had been caught in no time, thanks to the vigilance of Kip Beaumonde, the local pharmacist, who had managed to catch the young scoundrel with a flying tackle, reminiscent of his high school soccer days, when Kip had been the pride of Bruges’s soccer club youth division.

“A penny for your thoughts?” said Kirt. Chris’s friend and associate was also stretched out in his chair, his feet up on the desk, and playing with a cigarette he might or might not light—he was trying to quit.

“What happened to crime?” said Chris exasperated. “Can it be that the moment I decided to set up shop, all criminals suddenly skipped town? And what about cheating husbands? Or stealing employees? Or spying competitors? Is it really possible that Bruges is the one place on earth where people live in perfect peace and harmony?”

“It is a pretty great place to live,” agreed Kirt, flinging his cigarette between his lips before snatching it away again. “So still no cases, huh?”

“Nada. Nothing. Bupkis. Zero. Naught. In other words,” Chris said with a long sigh, “we’re absolutely screwed.”

“You have to give it time, Chris,” was his friend’s sage advice. “No business takes off from the get-go. Give it six months. You can’t expect people suddenly to come running. After all, they don’t know us. We have to earn their trust.”

“But they
do
know us. We were born and raised here. I’m a Van Damme, for Christ’s sakes. My family practically built this town.”

“Then perhaps that’s the reason,” said Kirt. “The name Van Damme scares people off. They think you’ll go blabbing their most intimate secrets to your old man.”

Chris frowned. The thought had crossed his mind that the Van Damme name was more a curse than a blessing for a newly established private eye. Especially with his dad now running for mayor. What if he won? Who’d go to the mayor’s son to report a cheating husband or a pickpocketing son?

“I don’t know why they won’t come, Kirt,” he said finally, wearily raking his fingers through his thick mane of curly hair. “I just know that if we don’t get a case soon, we’ll be out of business before year’s end.”

“Don’t you have a nest egg?” said Kirt. “Never go into business without a nest egg. That’s what my old man always used to say.”

“You have one?”

“Nope,” said Kirt with a cheeky grin.

“And that’s another thing. I should never have let you talk me into allowing you to join me in this crazy scheme. It’s hard enough to make living as a PI all by myself, but now I’ve got another mouth to feed.”

“And a big one at that,” said Kirt amiably.

“You said it.”

Both friends stared at each other for a spell, then Kirt said, “You know, when push comes to shove and we’re both starving in the street, I’m sure we can get our old jobs back. Especially since your dad will be mayor soon, and head of the police. He’ll
have
to take us back.”

“That’s just it. I don’t
want
him to take me back, buddy, you know that.” He tapped his desk. “This is where I want to make my life now. Here is where it’s at. And I
am
going to make it work. Whatever it takes.”

“That’s exactly how I feel,” said Kirt. “We started down this road and we’ll keep on going till the very end, no matter what.” He narrowed his gaze. “So… Still hung up on Kate, then, huh?”

Chris looked up as if stung. “What has that got to do with anything?”

“Oh, I was just thinking, it’s not like Chris to go all moody and glum on me all of a sudden.”

“I told you, it’s the business—”

“We’ve been in business for months and practically haven’t seen a single client except for Queenie and a couple of others. Didn’t bother you last week. Didn’t bother you yesterday. Didn’t even bother you this morning. But ever since Kate what’s-her-name walked back into your life, you’ve been as cheery as a death row inmate who just found out the prison cook is sick and unable to prepare his last meal. And I can’t say I blame you, by the way. She’s stunningly gorgeous.”

“She
is
stunningly gorgeous,” agreed Chris, his eyes lighting up. Then he shook his head, and said, frowning, “Look. It doesn’t matter, Kirt. She dumped me, remember? So I’d appreciate it if you never mention her name again.”

Kirt held up his hands. “Fair enough. As long as you cheer up.”

Actually, Kirt was right. He hadn’t been able to keep his mind off Kate for a single moment since that morning. Just like the first time they met. At the time, he’d been a relatively happy policeman, though later he would realize his true life’s purpose lay in the private sector.

And then the chief of police had sent him across the Atlantic to represent the Bruges police force at an international police conference in New York and life had never been the same again. Before he knew what was happening, he’d fallen head over heels in love with that gorgeous, quirky, funny redhead whom he only knew by her first name. And what a lovely name it was. Kate.

A lovely name for the loveliest girl he’d ever met. Their meeting had begun innocently enough. Coincidence (or fate?) had found him seated next to her at the conference, and it hadn’t been long before they’d exchanged pleasantries and polite banter. He’d instantly felt a strong attraction, and when later that evening he’d seen her sitting alone in the bar of the hotel, he’d bought her a long-stemmed rose and had offered it, along with a drink.

Two lonely people in a strange part of the world. A drink at the bar. A late dinner. An after dinner walk in the moonlight. And before they knew what was happening, love had entered the fray, and they both felt as if they’d known each other all their lives. It’s a rare thing, love at first sight, and Chris had always dismissed it as something that didn’t really exist. Something that could never happen to him.

And then they’d kissed.

And it
had
happened to him.

For three glorious days, Chris was the happiest man alive.

And they’d made plans. Tentative plans, half joking, half serious, about their future together. About the detective agency they’d start, just like William Powell and Myrna Loy in the Thin Man movies, which they both were avid fans of. Or about the house they’d buy. About the kids they’d have. And of course, about where they’d live. America or Belgium? Or perhaps somewhere in between, on an island in the Atlantic? Or why not up in the clouds? Young love doesn’t bother with trivial practicalities like being separated by an entire ocean.

And then they’d made love for the first time, and it had been glorious. Not that he’d heard fireworks go off somewhere in the distance, but still. He’d never felt like that about any woman ever before, and had lain awake half the night simply watching her sleep. But then his father sent him a message in the middle of the night. Mom wasn’t well, and could he come home as soon as possible. If he wanted to see his mother one last time, he couldn’t wait for a morning flight.

He hadn’t wanted to wake her, and had written her a note explaining his departure, leaving her with his address, phone number and email, entreating her in so many words to get in touch with him.

And then she hadn’t.

She’d never called, or written, or given him any indication she was interested in his offer to pursue a relationship beyond the weekend they’d spent together. For days he’d waited for a sign of life from the American girl he’d fallen for, and when nothing came, it had pretty much broken his heart. Days had stretched into weeks and weeks into months, and finally he’d given up hope to ever hear from her again.

As Kirt had pointed out on more than one occasion, he could have easily found out her address by getting in touch with the organizers of the conference, and contacted her himself, but Chris figured if she didn’t care to respond to his note, it was clear that she wasn’t interested.

Furthermore, after his mother died, there had been so many things to take care of, that he really didn’t want to add pursuing a girl who obviously didn’t want to be pursued to his list of emotionally draining tasks.

What he had done was leave the force and set up shop for himself, just like they’d fantasized about. Only his partner in crime was not the beautiful girl he’d met in the States, but Kirt, his old high school buddy and partner.

“Why don’t you go over there and talk to her?” said Kirt. “I’m sure there is a really simple explanation for why she never got in touch.”

“Didn’t you see the look on her face?” said Chris. “For some reason she hates me and never wants to see me again.”

“It just doesn’t make sense. You said you thought she loved you and now she hates you? Something must have happened. Some sort of misunderstanding. Or hey!”

Chris looked up. “What?”

“Perhaps she never got that note of yours and she just figured you dumped her?”

“Impossible,” said Chris. “I left it on the nightstand for her to find. She can’t not have found it.”

“Still. No harm in finding out.”

“I don’t need to find out,” said Chris stubbornly. “I don’t know what she’s doing here but I have no intention of coming near that woman ever again.”

“Well, I have,” said Kirt, studying his fingernails.

“You what?” said Chris, sitting up.

“Well, not Kate, obviously,” said Kirt. “But I did get a message from Lauren that she would like to meet, so I’m bound to run into her friend.”

“Quick work,” said Chris admiringly.

“Want me to give Kate a message?” said Kirt. “I’m meeting Lauren tomorrow for drinks.”

Chris held up his hand. “Please. If you could find it in your heart never to mention the name ‘Kate’ ever again, do so, buddy.”

Kirt sighed an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, all right. Have it your way.”

Just then, Chris’s cell vibrated in his pocket. Picking it out, he saw that it was his father. He rolled his eyes at Kirt. “The old man,” he groaned. “Yes, dad,” he said, answering the phone. “What’s up?”

“Son, I have a job for you,” his father’s voice hooted in his ear. “A real job for a real ace. Mind if I pop in?”