From Bruges with Love by Pieter Aspe Read Free Book Online Page A

Fortunately the curtains were closed. The piles of dirty underwear appeared in the half-light like fluffy flowerbeds and the plates with rotting food like a Tracey Emin installation.
    Linda was wearing a satin nightgown. The shiny cloth mercilessly accentuated every band of fat around her loins. Her sagging breasts heaved up and down with the rhythm of her breathing.
    The telephone had been ringing every ten minutes for more than an hour. Linda dreamed that she was part of a funeral procession. The hearse, a black Chevrolet with chrome bumpers, sliced through the unruly crowd like a prehistoric batmobile. Linda was on the back of a white stallion. Everyone was trying to catch a glimpse of her. People chanted. Linda recognized dozens of them from her childhood. She reveled in their adulation, her head held high, parading in the wake of the Chevrolet.
    The hearse was carrying a glass casket, its lid buried under bouquets of lilacs. William had been laid out on a velvet mattress, his head resting on an embroidered pillow with tassels on each corner. He was breathing, but the public didn’t seem to notice. No one could see the silver shackles that bound him to the casket, nor the linen tethers around his neck, chest, and pelvis that pressed him firmly to its base. His eyes reeled. Beads of mortal terror covered his forehead.
    â€œWhat a babe,” Linda heard someone shout.
    â€œNeed a bed for the night, darlin’?” another lusty admirer intoned.
    The funeral procession approached the center of the city. The square in front of the bank was full to bursting. Linda slackened the reins as the deferential crowd gave way. She turned as she passed the bank. The building, a cage of steel and mirrored glass, reflected her image. She was naked. The onlookers broke into a song, its words vile and disgusting. Suddenly a jester appeared in front of the horse, grabbing the reins and groping greedily at Linda’s thighs. The bells on his cap drowned out the uproar. Linda tried to fend him off. She kicked the white stallion into action. It shivered, reared, and bolted, leaving Linda behind on the cobblestones. The last thing she remembered before opening her eyes was staring at William’s smirking face. He was about to tie her up. She screamed.
    Linda woke up on the floor next to the bed. The telephone was ringing, and this time it didn’t stop.
    â€œHello,” she said with a quavering voice.
    â€œIs William there?”
    â€œWilliam isn’t home. Who’s calling?” she asked, still dazed from her dream.
    Provoost cursed under his breath and hung up.
    Chief Inspector Dirk Baert put down the receiver.
    â€œAny luck?” he asked Versavel.
    Sergeant Versavel had just notched up his thirty-seventh call to a dentist.
    â€œThe same story every time. Either they can’t remember and ask you to call back tomorrow or you get their answering service telling you they’re on vacation. No wonder it costs a month’s salary to have a crown fixed. In the old days, that used to pay for a nugget of gold in your gob. They need us like a hole in the head … so to speak.”
    The word gob wasn’t part of Versavel’s usual vocabulary. It was a sign that he was pissed, and not only because of the dentists. Baert’s endless whining was driving him up a wall.
    â€œI managed to get an orthodontist on the line. The man’s name was Joyeux,” said Baert. He waited patiently for a reaction. Versavel knew that Baert would repeat himself if he said nothing. “I managed to get an orthodontist on the line. The man’s name was Joyeux.”
    â€œAnd?” asked Versavel wearily.
    â€œNot even remotely joyeux . The man was furious. He insisted he was still a student back in 1985 and couldn’t have been involved. He said we should have checked first before we interrupted him.”
    Versavel glanced at his watch. “I suggest we stop for coffee. This is getting us