partner’s scorched-earth gaze met Sophia’s eyes of polder-grey. For a moment an unspoken challenge seemed to rise between them. Pieter wasn’t surprised that Sophia should be the one to break the contact. There was a fire to his partner’s eye that burnt without thinking.
Sophia’s expression flickered, then grew impassive. ‘How may I help you, Detective Inspector?’
Tanja reached into her pocket, to remove a colour photocopy of Mikael Ruben’s security pass. ‘Do you recognise him?’ she asked, tapping the image in the corner.
Sophia looked at the picture. ‘Maybe.’
‘Only maybe?’ Tanja pressed. ‘One of the “pretty ones”, no?’
Sophia shrugged. ‘I never focus on the faces for long.’ She chuckled, but the sound seemed to sit awkwardly.
Tanja shook her head impatiently. ‘Please, this is important.’
Sophia looked at the image again. ‘All right. Now that I think about it, I do recognise him. He comes in a couple of times a month.’
‘And when did you last see him?’ Pieter asked.
‘I don’t remember.’
‘Last night, perhaps?’
Sophia shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so.’
Tanja showed her a copy of the receipt. ‘This would suggest otherwise. You see the date?’
Sophia studied the receipt. ‘Yes. But really, I’ve said too much. My customers expect a certain discretion on my part.’
‘Trust me,’ said Tanja, ‘Mikael Ruben will not care.’
Sophia licked her lips. Pale lipstick glistened, briefly. ‘Why not?’
‘Because he’s dead.’
Sophia put her hand to her mouth. She groped blindly behind her, and settled back into a chair. She started to say something, then seemed to think better of it. ‘Poor Mikael,’ she finally stammered.
Tanja took a step closer to Sophia. ‘So, you will forgive me if I ask you again, Ms Faruk: did you see Mikael Ruben last night?’
‘I have already said that I didn’t,’ Sophia said. She composed herself with a visible effort. ‘But then, I wasn’t here all evening. I left early.’
‘What time did you leave?’
‘I couldn’t say for sure. I never wear a watch. The passing of time – well, I’d rather not know.’
‘Do you have security cameras?’ Pieter asked. ‘A tape we can study?’
‘No,’ Sophia answered. ‘The last thing my customers want is to be filmed. At least not here.’
Pieter found that he was starting to enjoy the process. This was much more like it. ‘So tell me, Ms Faruk, what exactly is the Cougar Club?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’
‘Let’s assume it isn’t.’
That laugh again. ‘You aren’t from round here, are you, Detective? It’s very simple. Some women prefer the company of younger men, just as some men prefer the company of older women. This is where they like to meet.’
‘Was anyone else working last night?’ Tanja asked. ‘A bartender, perhaps?’
‘Just Frank,’ Sophia answered, quite sullen now.
‘Do you have a doorman?’
‘Jacobus, yes. He won’t be around for another hour, though. We aren’t officially open yet.’
‘And Frank?’
‘He’s in the cellar, doing a stock check.’
Frank was duly summoned. There was a pale sheen of sweat on his skin, and his eyes bulged from deep-set sockets. He had the look of a man who had spent his life in a dark cave. He glanced at the receipt, and the photograph, then screwed his eyes shut as he struggled to remember. Sophia looked at him for a moment, then drifted away, ostensibly to study her mobile. But it was obvious that she was listening intently.
‘Yeah, he was definitely here,’ the barman said. ‘We talked about the game on Saturday – did you see it? What the hell was Jol doing? Honestly, we’d have been better off sticking with van Basten. You don’t counterattack against Feyenoord – you pound em, you understand, like the scum they are. It’s the only way –’
‘What time did he leave?’ Tanja interrupted.
‘Oh, not late. Ten, maybe? No, that’s not right. Earlier. Because I remember talking to another customer about De Klassieker later, and he asked me the time, and it was nine-thirty. So, it would have been, oh, twenty minutes before that?’
‘And did he leave on his own?’ Pieter asked.
‘No,’ the bartender answered, drawing the syllable out as he pondered the question. ‘Don’t think so. I think I saw him talking to a woman, if only for a minute or so. I’ve an idea they went out together. They usually do!’
Pieter was making notes. ‘What did this woman look like?’
‘Sorry,’ Frank replied, ‘I really couldn’t say. Blonde hair, maybe? But it gets real smoky as the evening wears on. And of course Ms. Faruk turns the lights down low. Sometimes it’s hard to keep a track of who’s who.’ He winked. ‘Besides, I’m told not to stare.’
‘She didn’t order a drink?’ Tanja enquired.
‘I don’t think so. It’s mostly the men who buy the drinks round here.’ He lowered his voice a little. ‘Although there are some ladies who prefer a more hands on approach, if you know what I mean.’
‘Where do you keep your copies of the bar receipts?’ Tanja asked.
‘In here,’ Frank answered. He opened a manila folder, leafing through in dextrous fashion. ‘Ah, here we are,’ he said. ‘I believe this is Mr Ruben’s. He ordered, yes, two Grolsch.’
‘May I?’ Pieter asked.
Frank handed Pieter the folder. He flicked through, noting that the bartender was right: perhaps four-fifths of the names on the receipts were male. All part of the ritual, he supposed. There was certainly no record of a Hester Goldman.
‘Do you have a membership roster, something like that?’ Tanja asked. ‘We’ll need to speak to your patrons. Someone must have got a decent view of this woman.’
‘There’s nothing like that.’ Sophia said quickly as she moved back over to join them. ‘As I say, we are very discreet. We rely on word-of-mouth. No one has to sign in. There are no membership fees. My only recompense is whatever passes through my till. That and the satisfaction of knowing that I am providing a valuable service, of course.’
‘Good
