The Red Light Girls (Unsolved Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  “‘Elloo, you there?”

  “Yes. I’m here.” Madeline moved the phone from her ear, then hit speaker.

  The steady trickle continued from down the way she had come.

  I turned the water off, didn’t I? She questioned herself, then headed toward the bathroom.

  Her feet sunk into the carpet. She froze in place, lifted a foot, then let out a heavy sigh.

  Shit! This is what I’m paying for? She pondered the thought of her hard-earned cash lining the landlord’s pockets for the last three months. Suddenly, she was home sick.

  “Mr. Fitz, I'm here,” she said. “There's a massive leak.”

  Madeline raised her heel up to inspect it, as if she had stepped in dog muck.

  “Now the toilet’s overflowing.” She gagged. “It’s everywhere. Do you think you could send someone over here to take a look?”

  Mr. Fitz groaned. “Oh, okay. Wun minute.”

  “Mr. Fitz, I don't mean to be rude, but I need to be at—”

  “Okay, okay. Wun minute,” Mr. Fitz said. “Hold de line. Wun minute, I say.”

  Madeline rolled her eyes. Over the line, she heard him stumbling about, cursing in broken English. She wondered if he had just now gotten out of bed.

  “Okay, I call plumber. Maybe he come after lunch,” he told her.

  “After lunch? Mr. Fitz, I've got to be at work at eight.”

  “Okay, okay. I call back. Wait there. No move, okay. No move. Wun minute. See you.”

  “Mr. Fitz I—”

  At the sound of the dead phone line, Madeline placed her phone on the sofa, then raced back to the overflowing water from the toilet, but there was little she could do.

  After a while, she made her way down the soggy hallway, cleaned her feet and legs best she could in the kitchen with paper towels, then sat on the couch, waiting.

  Several hours passed without so much as a courtesy call from her landlord.

  The intercom buzzer sounded.

  Ring.

  Ring.

  Madeline sprung from the sofa, rushed over to the intercom box, then snatched up the receiver.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi. It's the plumber. I'm here about your leak,” a male voice announced.

  “Well, it's about time. It's well after two o’clock. I've missed work for this.”

  “I'm sorry, Miss. But I'm here now,” the voice crackled out of the box. “If you let me in, I'll have it fixed in no time.”

  Without even so much as a thank you, Madeline pressed the entry button, then slammed down the phone. Within a couple of minutes, a knock sounded.

  Stone-faced, she swung the door open.

  “Well I should—”

  “Madeline?”

  “Chris?”

  The pair stared wide-eyed at each other.

  “What are the chances of us meeting again?”

  “Yeah, pretty random.” Madeline moved her eyes over him suspiciously. “I’m sorry I was so rude. I had no idea it was—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Chris cut in. “It happens all the time. Can I come in?”

  Madeline blushed and stepped to one side to allow him into her apartment. She was slightly embarrassed at the work that needed to be done.

  “Which way?” He glanced around.

  “That way.” She lowered her lashes to the ground, then pointed in the direction of the bathroom.

  “Thanks.” Chris headed in, and she followed behind him.

  She noticed him look around at the wet floor, carpet, and broken pipe.

  “Damn.” He whistled. “Okay, let me get started,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Is this going to take long because I—”

  “Madeline, chill. I’ll fix it, I promise.”

  She looked him up and down, then chewed the inside of lip. “Good ‘cos I—”

  “Yes, you’ve got to get to work,” Chris teased her. “I know. Now, take a seat and leave it with me.”

  “Okay, can I get you anything to drink?” Madeline asked.

  “I’ll take a coffee, thanks.”

  “How do you take it?”

  “Black, one sugar. Thanks.”

  Madeline headed into the kitchen and started the kettle. In the background, the local news was on the television.

  “Breaking news,” the presenter announced. “This is just in…”

  Madeline snapped her head up. As a journalist herself, ‘breaking news’ was music to her ears. Pouring hot water into the coffee mugs, she listened.

  “The police have just confirmed the body of a woman has been found in the Amsterdamse Bos woodland area,” the female reporter announced.

  “Oh my, God!” Madeline yelled and dropped the spoon. She left the kitchen, then headed toward to small television in the living room to turn up the volume.

  “Is everything okay?” Chris called out from the bathroom.

  Madeline didn’t respond. She focused on the pretty Scandinavian looking news reporter. In the background, she heard the clank of tools, then the squish of Chris’ heavy work boots as he made his way toward the living room.

  “The body was found by a dog walker last night,” the reporter continued. “The woman in her thirties has been identified as one of the working girls from the Red Light District area. Please stay tuned for further details.”

  “Jesus, not another one.” Madeline glanced at Chris. She noticed his eyebrows were raised toward the screen.

  “Man, this is getting serious, huh?”

  “You’re telling me, I don’t like it one bit.”

  The reporter moved to a weather report, and Madeline reached for the remote to turn the volume down.

  “This is the second body in a week. It’s scary.”

  “Tell me about it.” Chris headed back to the bathroom. “But they’ll find whoever it is,” he called over his shoulder.

  Madeline frowned at his back.

  Easy for you to say, she thought. It’s not like men are dropping dead all over the city. She got to her feet.

  “I sure hope so,” she whispered to herself. “I don’t think I can take much more of this.” She made her way to the kitchen.

  Once the coffee was made, Madeline headed to the bathroom.

  “Here you go.” She sat the mug on the vanity.

  “Thanks.” He continued to work on the pipe in the shower.

  She lingered in the doorway for a few minutes, then left him to work in peace. In the living room, she slid onto a chair, laptop in front of her. Palming the mug, she warmed her hands.

  That was another peeve about her flat. It was freezing and not well insulated.

  It was well after 3.00, and she had done what work she could from home. The breaking news report about the girl’s murder replayed on her mind.

  She closed down the article she was writing, then pulled up the details of the last few murdered victims in a new report.

  In the background, Chris banged and knocked around in the bathroom.

  Into a Google search field, she typed, ‘missing and dead women in Amsterdam.’ Within seconds, a list of cases still unsolved, popped up.

  As she read, she noted that women had gone missing, or had shown up dead around the city in large numbers—most recently, the bulk of them, over the past six months.

  Madeline clicked on the first link and read through the article by a Dutch newspaper. It was a call for witnesses or information regarding Ana De Jog’s disappearance.

  Wow. She’s been missing for over eight months, she thought.

  Leaning back in her chair she took a deep breath.

  A loud bang, coming from the bathroom, made her jump.

  “Chris,” she called out. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that. I’m nearly done.”

  Madeline craned her neck toward the bathroom, she couldn’t see anything. All she heard was loud banging noises. Water chugged through the old pipes.

  Turning her attention back to her screen, she conti
nued reading about Ana De Jog. She scanned the article and pulled out a pen to make some notes.

  Hmm. Seems Ana’s friend and co-worker last saw her when she left work at the club. She penned the information down. But she never made it home or into work the next day.

  The next case she pulled up was Lotte Van De Berg’s. Her body was found in a dustbin behind a café in Dam Square—a month after Ana’s disappearance. Lotte had also been known as a ‘window girl’ around the city. Shortly after Lotte’s body turned up, Fenna Bakker was last seen talking to a man in Dam Square, and hasn’t been seen since.

  Zoe Van Dyk is also still missing.

  Her eyes widened, it appeared to her that possibility, a maniac was on the loose in the city she had just relocated to.

  Madeline clicked through the Google search.

  “Holy shit,” she mumbled.

  She read an official Dutch police statement. It confirmed Tess Van Dijik was reported missing just two weeks ago, the case was ongoing and still unsolved.

  “Damn.”

  Clicking out of Tess’ case, she pulled up the report on the news that broke this afternoon. She read over the article, disappointed the Politie still haven’t disclosed the woman’s name.

  “Looks like we’re done,” Chris called out.

  “Cool. That’s great, thanks.”

  Madeline left her laptop and research to move over to where Chris stood in the bathroom. The sound of running water put a smile on her face.

  “I descaled the shower for you too,” Chris said. “That should make the water pressure a lot better.

  “You’re amazing! Thanks. Finally, a decent shower.” Madeline giggled.

  “No worries, my pleasure.”

  As Chris bent down to pack away his tools, Madeline watched him closely while he organised himself.

  “How about another coffee before you go?” she asked spontaneously.

  Chris glanced at his watch. “Sure, why not. I’ve got about forty minutes to spare.”

  “I’ll meet you in the living room with a fresh cup.”

  Madeline picked up Chris’ empty mug from the sink to refill it, then left him to gather his work tools.

  Inside the kitchen, she grabbed some more hot water, making a cup for each of them.

  “It’s a real shame about these murders and missing women, don’t you think?” Madeline called over her shoulder.

  She set the refilled cups on the table: one for her and the other for Chris.

  “Sure is,” his voice sounded.

  Behind her Madeline heard Chris making his way toward her from the bathroom.

  “Really makes you wonder how sick people can be.” He stepped over the threshold, entering the living room.

  “Hmm, I done a little bit of research,” Madeline confirmed. “Seems that it’s been happening for a while. Many are unsolved. And the cases have picked up over the last few months.”

  “Don’t let it worry you. You’ll be safe. Amsterdam’s generally a safe place.” Chris smiled at her. “Everyone’s too stoned to think about committing crimes.”

  Madeline let out a laugh at Chris’ humour. “Is that right?”

  “So why are you in Amsterdam?” Chris asked her. “What part of the UK are you from?”

  “I’m from London. I’m here on a job swap, well, sabbatical you could call it. I’m a journalist working for De Telegraaf.”

  Chris raised an eyebrow in Madeline’s direction. “Wow, okay.”

  Madeline felt him eye her closely. He rubbed a shadow of a beard on his face as if in contemplation.

  “I’d love to speak to you again. I’ve got to get to my next appointment, so I can’t stay long.”

  Madeline avoided his eye contact and searched for the right words, “Errr I dunno I—”

  “As friends, that’s all, don’t worry,” Chris cut in to reassure her.

  Madeline looked up at him. “All right. It’s not like I’ve made many friends so far. Where’s your phone?”

  Chris pulled it out from his pocket and handed it to Madeline, and she typed in her number.

  “I better go, I’ll talk to you soon, Madeline. Thanks for the coffee.” Chris gulped the last of it down and headed toward his tool bag.

  “Sure, no problem. Speak to you soon. Thanks again for fixing the leak.”

  Madeline saw Chris out of her home, then glanced at her watch.

  Hmm, no point heading to the office now.

  After Chris left her apartment, she moved back to her laptop. The face of Tess Van Dijik, reported missing just two weeks ago, stared back at her.

  Her phone buzzed, vibrating across the table. She pulled up the message.

  —Lovely to meet you.

  —It’s crazy to cross paths like this again!

  —It’s a message from the universe.

  —Speak soon. This is my number. Chris.

  Madeline smiled, but she tried not to get too caught up with thoughts about Chris.

  The afternoon’s events were on her mind. As she read, she learned another woman from the Red Light district had turned up dead. The high number of unsolved cases didn’t sit right with her.

  I better see what’s up with this latest one, she thought.

  Grabbing her bag, coat, scarf, and her reporter’s note pad, she headed out the door, ready to pound the pavement for clues.

  4

  Dig Deep

  Madeline Sloane

  Madeline made her way over to Van Nijenrodeweg via bus. She jumped off at her stop into the chilly air. With her hands buried in her pockets to shield from the cold, she walked a few meters over to Amsterdamse Bos park. Once there, she noticed the area was busy with uniformed officials with Politie written across their vests.

  Standing by the gated entrance to the woodland area, she accessed the situation.

  The Politie were everywhere. To her, it appeared as if they were questioning passers-by.

  She assumed this could have only been about the woman’s body that showed up in the Bos. Her gaze slowly moved over the scene, scanning to see if there were any other local news reporters with the same idea as her—to gather any information possible for the following day’s headlines. With no one in sight that looked like a journalist, she ducked into the Bos unnoticed.

  Once through the gate, an anxious feeling pooled in the pit of her stomach. Quickly she walked up the pathway lined with trees and grass on either side.

  A cool breeze rustled the trees, and a few brown leaves fell and landed in her path. As she walked along, the autumn leaves crunched under her heavy winter boots.

  Up ahead by a tree, she saw the familiar tape that sealed off the area where the woman’s body must have been found. She noted the forensic team dusting down the area. Cameras flashed while a few officers looked as if they were searching the area.

  A woman she recognised in a black suit, black fedora hat, and loafers stood to one side surrounded by a team of men. She spoke to a uniformed officer directly as the others took notes.

  Madeline approached her.

  “Hey, Detective Janssen,” said Madeline. “What happened?”

  The tall blonde turned her attention from the officer to her.

  “Madeline how did you get back here?” she demanded.

  “I came by as soon as the news broke.” She ignored the detective’s question. “Who was she?”

  Madeline felt her heart sink as Janssen rolled her eyes at her.

  “You know I can’t talk to the press,” Janssen said. “This is a crime scene. The press aren’t meant to be here.”

  Madeline moved her eyes over to the taped off area and nodded her head in the same direction. “There’s been so many of these cases over the last few months,” she said. “I’m here to help.”

  “No, Madeline.” Janssen held up a hand of warning. “The press is never here to help. All you want is gossip—to see who can sell the most papers.”

  Janssen dismissed her, then moved over to the taped off area, taking long s
trides. She signalled for her team of officers to follow her.

  Madeline watched them walk off and sucked her teeth. She decided not to piss Janssen off, even though she wasn’t impressed with the job the Politie had done to close the unsolved cases. She had crossed paths with Detective Zoe Janssen on more than one occasion.

  When she first arrived in Amsterdam came to mind. She had tried to report on a bank robbery for the De Telegraaf newspaper.

  Yeah, that first meeting wasn’t pretty, Madeline chuckled at the memory.

  Janssen had an attitude with her and saw her as more of a hindrance than helpful.

  Well, I’m here again, Janssen, she laughed to herself. The shadow you can’t shake.

  From where she stood, she looked around for another source she could gather some information from. She spotted a uniformed officer, who stood back, observing the scene by a Politie van. He was out of ear and eye shot of Janssen, so she headed over to him.

  “Officer, who was she? What do we know?” Madeline crossed her fingers, hoping he would spill the beans.

  The officer looked at Madeline and shook his head.

  “Ma’am you’re not meant to be here.” He took Madeline by the elbow gently and guided her towards to exit. “Let me escort you out. You need to leave, now.”

  Madeline snatched her arm back, then pulled out her ID badge from underneath her jacket.

  “Please officer, I want to help with these cases. From what I’ve dug up, it’s getting serious,” she said.

  The officer glanced down at her De Telegraaf badge, but he didn’t say a thing.

  “I’m not trying to sell papers,” she continued. “This is about catching whoever this sick bastard is.”

  The officer raised his sunglasses and looked closer at Madeline’s badge. He sighed, lowered his glasses and chewed loudly on his gum. Briefly, he glanced around, then he leaned into her.

  “She was female,” he whispered. “Probably in her thirties and Chinese.”

  He looked around cautiously again, then over a shoulder. He grabbed her elbow and started to march her in a different direction away from his co-workers.

  Madeline followed his lead with interest. “What else?”

  “Definitely a Red Light girl. Her clothes were in her bag. Suzy Chan’s her legal name from the ID, that’s all we know,” the officer said under his breath.