Little Sister by David Hewson Page A

Lambert had
taken a cab to Schiphol as soon as the contest was over and flown to Bangkok. He’d never been heard of since.
    ‘That’s odd,’ Bakker said. ‘Why didn’t he come back?’
    ‘It is funny,’ Van der Berg agreed. ‘But they have him on camera going through Schiphol at six in the evening. He couldn’t have been anywhere near Volendam when it
happened.’
    Bakker wasn’t giving up.
    ‘Blom?’ she said, pointing a finger at the report. ‘That’s not the same as . . .’
    ‘The politician,’ Vos cut in. ‘Yes. That’s how he made his money. Media. Pop music to begin with. Now . . .’
    Bakker turned to the nearest PC and did a quick search. It was all there: Jaap Blom, fifty-six. Former pop group manager. Founder of an advertising and online media company sold to an American
corporation six years before. Rich as Croesus, now a member of the
Tweede Kamer,
the second chamber. When he wasn’t in The Hague on political business he lived in a mansion in Edam,
Volendam’s more affluent neighbour just two kilometres away.
    ‘Irrelevant,’ Vos said and went back to the papers.
    Glas was found murdered in the front seat of the band’s van three hundred metres from the Timmers’ home. The two sisters were there with a bloodied knife. Haas believed they wrongly
thought they saw the musician leaving their house just before they turned up and found their parents and sister Jo dead. So they followed Glas to his van and killed him there.
    ‘Bit extreme,’ Van der Berg commented. ‘Two kids. Eleven years old. I mean . . . why?’
    Bakker pointed to the concluding paragraph of the report. It said the Timmers children had been reported for disruptive behaviour by their school. Social services had been planning to talk to
the parents to try to find the cause.
    ‘Perhaps they were in shock,’ she suggested. ‘Rogier Glas just happened to be the first victim they saw. I found a newspaper cutting that said he was really popular with all
the kids. Used to go to charity events. Hospitals.’
    She put it in front of them. Glas surrounded by happy children. The headline read, ‘The Candy Man’.
    ‘It says he always carried sweets with him. Used to hand them out to the kids all the time.’ She was thinking. ‘I’m assuming this is all harmless? I mean . . . just
because he handed out stuff to children. It doesn’t mean . . .’
    Bakker left it there. Vos said nothing. Nor did Van der Berg.
    Haas could find no evidence to place the musician at the scene of the crime. Jaap Blom was adamant that he’d walked with Glas from the talent contest, talked to him about management
matters in his cafe below the recording studio The Cupids used and seen him head off back towards the van afterwards.
    Forensic believed the murder of the Timmers family and Glas’s death happened around the same time. They were unable to trace the owner of the shotgun but there was no record of Glas ever
owning a firearm. Whatever the sisters thought it seemed impossible he was responsible. Vos shuffled through the few documents they had.
    ‘What are you looking for?’ Bakker asked.
    ‘The interview with the sisters. This is just a summary.’
    ‘De Groot deleted all that stuff. Lots else besides.’
    Vos stared at the red document folder. These murders had taken place outside Amsterdam. It wasn’t unusual for city police to get called into serious investigations in rural areas. But
there had to be a reason.
    ‘Why did we handle this?’ he asked. ‘Why didn’t we leave it to the locals?’
    ‘I asked at the time,’ Van der Berg told him. ‘There was all that terrible publicity. Two parents. A child. That pop singer dead, killed by kids. The locals were pleading with
us to take it on. Ollie Haas had worked in Waterland before. He couldn’t wait to get his paws on it. I was hoping I could steer it our way.’
    He looked round the office. It was almost deserted.
    ‘Frank de Groot was deputy commissaris back then. He