Reckoning Point, стр. 12

“I’ll fill you in on the way,” Dennis replies as he picks up his car keys. “Come.”

Erik tucks the folder under one arm, slips his notebook in his pocket and grabbing his coffee he hurries after Dennis, who has not waited for him. As Erik makes his way downstairs to the underground garage he wonders why he is suddenly in the middle of this alleged murder. It’s only his second since joining the Hoofdbureau Politie straight out of college five years ago. This is usually a sleepy town and as not much happens, he has been contemplating a transfer to Amsterdam or Rotterdam. He’s thirty, some years older than other graduates, and he supposes the years he spent in the Royal Army may go in his favour, but still. This sounds like a big task, and for someone used to street patrol and low scale crimes, it’s quite a leap. But, he reminds himself, he shouldn’t sell himself short. Naomi is always berating him for doing that, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her it’s because she is such an iconic figure in their community that she can be a little bit hard to live up to. He went into the force skipping the police trainee and starting at police patrol officer. He made his way quickly through the ranks of constable and sergeant, earning all his stripes and hitting the crown by working hard, harder than any of his other peers. He took overtime when it was offered, put himself forward for shifts that nobody else was enthusiastic about and wasn’t averse to getting down and dirty when it was called for. Being without a family to take care of helped, he supposed. And despite his work being his life he was liked by his colleagues. He always refrained from gossip, was polite and courteous, and eagerly joined the other guys down the pub or, more often, in the gym or on the running track when he wasn’t working.

On the short drive over to Chinatown Dennis fills him in on what they know so far.

“Gabi Rossi, twenty-two, Brazilian national, moved here recently. Known prostitute, worked a window as well as the streets, not previously known to the police. She was found in the early hours in an alleyway near the Spoor, cause of death looks like strangulation and there are very definite injuries to her upper arm.” Dennis rattles off the details as Erik frantically scribbles in his notebook.

“Has the body been removed yet?”

“Yes, the girl is at the mortuary near Schiphol, we’ll go there next. I want you to see the scene first.”

“Will anyone else be joining us there?” Erik asks.

Dennis shoots a look at him. “ENFSI will be there. You’ll be there.”

ENFSI – the European Network of Forensic Science Institutes, Erik knows of them since they are based in The Hague, but has only had a need to collaborate with them on one other occasion. He suppresses a shudder and is not sure whether it stems from excitement or nerves.

“And am I to lead this, sir?” Erik looks over at Dennis as the car slows to a stop and the first sighting of the red and white police tape comes into view.

“I’ll be there, you proceed.” It’s not really an answer, not to Erik, but suddenly he wants very much to prove himself worthy in this case.

Drawing himself up to his full height in the vague hope that he will appear as superior as his commissioner, Erik climbs out of the car and makes his way down the alley.

There are around half a dozen guys from ENFSI, suited up from top to tail, white plastic slippers on their feet and masks covering their faces. Erik nods a greeting and it’s with some relief that he recognises his old college pal, Cobus Pas. Cobus steps back and shakes hands sombrely with Erik.

“I’m glad to see you,” Erik grins and gestures over to the other ENFSI technicians. “Fill me in.”

Cobus snaps a fresh pair of gloves on and hands another pair to Erik. “Not much to see now, there’s some blood, here … see?” He gestures to a mark smeared on the concrete wall behind them. “That’s quite an amount so that was before death occurred. We’ve done a sweep of the ground all the way along this alley, picked some items up but to be honest, with the amount of human traffic that comes and goes...” Cobus tails off with a shrug.

“You’ll be doing the post mortem on the girl?” asks Erik, hopefully.

Cobus nods his affirmation. “Yes, I’ll be heading over there in a little while. Will I see you there?”

Erik glances over at Dennis who is deep in conversation with another one of the forensic technicians. With his friend Cobus on board, Erik is more confident of proving himself in this case. “I’ll be there. See you soon, Pas.”

“So, what are you thinking?” Dennis asks once they have discarded their gloves and shoe coverings.

“CCTV is our best option, there’s over a hundred locally, mainly concentrating on the red light districts, the train station, but not this alleyway, I’m pretty sure of that. Although, the girl, Gabi, she walked here or was driven here from somewhere, so if we can get her movements at some point that might be a help.”

“This needs to be a localised incident,” Dennis says demurely but pointedly, as he pulls away from the murder scene and eases into the flow of traffic.

Erik nods. Nobody wants a serial killer on their patch, least of all them. This is the fourteenth prostitute murder since the trade became legal in 1990. It’s not a huge amount, although Erik thinks one is too many, but he is also of a practical nature. Of the fourteen that have