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 after 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.”