Chantal van Mierlo - Julia Menken

A man came outside and opened up the gate. She quietly took in the social worker and let Diego do the talking. He introduced himself as Damian Koenders and extended a limp hand out to them. His arms were heavily tattooed: faded, unsteady lines had disfigured his skin right up to his wrists.

They followed him inside. The walls were bare, but the floors were carpeted and there was a sofa and a television. The other side was home to a small kitchenette and a large dining table. The lights on the ceiling gave the room a chilly look, but she suspected this was the cosiest room the prostitutes would normally spend time in. Diego had briefly told her about the project Damian had set up here whilst they were driving over, how the city of Arnhem had tried to restrict street prostitution. Julia had imagined Damian to be quite a young person, but he was actually nearing fifty or so.

“This is our living room,” he gestured around him, “the ladies are always welcome here. It’s particularly popular during the winter months. There’s no one here at the moment, as they have obviously cottoned onto the fact you guys are from the police.” He pushed his greasy grey hair out of his face.

She listened to Damian’s story about the access passes and Arnhem’s phase-out policy. In the meantime she tried to take in every detail about him. He was a man from the streets, undoubtedly the main reason why these prostitutes accepted help from him.

“Women are still venturing out onto the streets. The Rietgrachtstraat is only two kilometres from here and yet prostitution is still going on there too. Why would women choose that location over this one?” she asked.

He sat down at the table, decorated with a vase holding some faded plastic flowers. “That’s the problem with those damned passes. They can’t get onto De Baan and that’s why they decide to go elsewhere. I have been pleading for new prostitutes to be admitted for years. They are simply moving the problem. I regularly visit the Rietgrachtstraat and tell the women about our living room and the outpatients clinic. At least they know where to go. There’s nothing more we can do.”

“And this lad, did you know him?”

He stroked Brian’s photograph with his finger and stared at it for a little while. “Your colleague already asked me that. Sorry. I’ve never seen him before.”

*

They mostly spent the drive back to the station in silence. Julia couldn’t get over the fact that so much prostitution was going on right under the police’s noses. Street prostitution attracted all kinds of scum. She thought of Brian. Had he simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time? Had he fallen victim to some sort of pervert he had happened to come across? No. Because in that case it would have been an impulsive act and all the traces in this case were contradicting that.

“Why don’t you guys do anything about the prostitutes in the Rietgrachtstraat?”

“It isn’t quite that simple.”

“Prostitution is forbidden. Why don’t the police take the appropriate action and empty out that street?”

“The problem is that those girls will be back outside again after a few days and they will need money for their stuff again. It’s a vicious circle. Most of them never escape.”

“How dangerous is it over there?”

“Difficult to say. You won’t notice anything out of the ordinary in that neighbourhood if you don’t know where you’re going. It’s a twilight environment, a type of parallel world. And there isn’t enough protection over there. Most of the prostitutes work without a pimp and will do anything to be able to pay for their next shot. That’s when you end up with violent crimes: abuse, rape, it all happens far too regularly. And the crimes which are actually reported are just the tip of the iceberg, as most women keep their mouths shut.”

“What do you think about that Damian?” she asked. She hadn’t been quite sure what to think during the conversation. “He knows that world inside out, could he have anything to do with it?”

“That thought had crossed my mind too. Justus has already looked into it. He’s got a waterproof alibi.” He stopped for some traffic lights. “You hungry?”

It took a moment for Diego’s words to register. “Sorry?”

“My wife’s got dinner ready. Let’s go and have a bite to eat, shall we?”

She hesitated. She had to work this out in her head, whilst it was all still fresh in her memory. It would undoubtedly be another late night if she went with Diego now. But on the other hand, she wouldn’t get home until gone eight o’clock even without a break and the thought of Daniel’s indifferent looks had made damned sure she wasn’t exactly looking forward to that.

“That would be great, thank you.”

*

Diego lived in one of Arnhem’s suburbs, along a dike. Next to the driveway were some large apple trees in a meadow, where two Shetland ponies were lazily staring at them.

Diego saw her look. “Those are Abby’s, my daughter. She’s absolutely mad about horses.”

She followed him round the back. There was a garden with open views across the fields behind the house. There were perfectly round boxwood bulbs and a rose arch which, despite the time of year, was covered in soft yellow flowers. The air was heavy with the smell of roses, the last time she had smelt that was when she had visited her grandma in Germany. Someone had to be spending quite a few hours in this garden in order to keep it looking this perfect.

“What a beautiful place. Have you employed a whole army of gardeners?” she laughed.

“Only my wife. The garden is her hobby and she will devote every spare second to it.” He opened the door and let her go in first. She entered the house via a tiled utility room which smelt of detergent and the moist air from the condenser dryer. Diego walked ahead of her into the kitchen and gave his wife a hug.

“This is Julia, she’s going to have some dinner with us this evening.”

Julia extended her hand to her, but the busty woman ignored it and pulled her in for a hug. “I’m Janet. Great to meet you. You’re that profiler, right? Diego has told me all about you.” Janet turned around to go back to her pans. “Have you guys found out any more about the murderer?”

Julia shook her head.

“Our children’s parents are really unsettled by the whole thing. They’re petrified in fact.”

“Janet manages a day care centre in the city,” Diego explained.

“We provide a lot of afterschool care too and some of the parents don’t even want their children to play out on the square anymore.” She shook her head.

Through the doorway, Julia saw Diego standing by the sofa in the living room. She could also see two children. Two shiny little faces: a boy and a girl. The girl looked about ten years old. That had to be Abby, she had jet black hair which had been plaited into thin braids and she was watching Julia with big dark eyes. Her brother was a little younger and was completely absorbed by the cartoon on television.

They ate rice with chicken and vegetables and a curry sauce which was better than all other sauces she had ever eaten before.

“You’re always welcome here, Julia. Diego tells me you often work late and then you still have to go all the way back to Gouda. That’s quite some distance.”

Julia smiled and mumbled a ‘thank you’. What was she doing here? Why hadn’t she gone home? She could have worked from home this evening. Then she would now have been sat at her own dining table with Daniel, Mees and Evi. Things weren’t quite as fun and cosy at home at the moment as they were here, but it was the place she was supposed to be. She was evading her problems. Like she was no longer prepared to fight for their happiness.