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my Suzy? How do you know?”

“Well, the identification she had on her, confirmed her name. Plus, your contact details were found in her address book. In terms of the body being identified, I’m aware of the distance. The coroner’s office will be in touch, regarding the identification process.”

“W-what happened? She’s a good girl,” Mrs. Chan questioned, her voice became small and faint. “We allowed her to leave Hong Kong to study… how could—why did she—how could this happen?”

Gibson rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, unsure of how much to say, or how to word it.

Shit, they don’t know what she was doing. He pondered how to break the news that Suzy was doing anything but studying in Amsterdam.

Gibson cleared his throat. “Ah, Mrs. Chan, you daughter, Suzy, was working in a bar, well, a club. She was an entertainer.” He paused to allow her time to take in the news. “An exotic dancer to be exact.”

“What? No way. You have the wrong person. I don’t believe my daughter would do that. That’s not what we agreed.”

“Mrs. Chan, I know this is a lot to take in. I’ll have the coroner email a picture to you, so you can identify the body.” He paused a moment to steady his breath. “We don’t expect you to fly all this way unless you wish to.”

Mrs. Chan blew her nose, then moved away from the phone to speak to someone in the background.

Gibson couldn’t understand a word, but the one thing he did recognise, was a mother in pain just by her voice. In rapid Cantonese, Mrs. Chan fiercely addressed whoever had interrupted her. After a beat, Mrs. Chan picked up the phone once more.

“Sorry, Detective. That was the housekeeper. The woman is nosey.” She sighed into the phone. “The body. Yes, I’d like to see a picture.”

“Okay. I found an email address in Suzy’s address book for you, is Chan.May@mailmeHK.com correct?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Chan sniffed. “Thank you, I have no idea what to tell my husband when he arrives home from work.”

“Mrs. Chan, I send you both my regards in this difficult time.”

“Thank you. But what happened? My daughter flew so many miles away, and she was meant to study. Now, you tell me she’s been found dead. Tell me what happened?”

“This is what we’re in the process of finding out. I don’t have too many details for you at the moment. But I can confirm that I will keep you informed.”

“I can’t believe it…I—I, how is this? I can’t believe she would go against our wishes. You say she was a dancer?”

“Yep. From what I can confirm so far, yes, she was.”

“Like a…how do you say in English—stripper?”

“Well, based on the location she worked at, yes, that would be correct.”

Gibson bit his lip, feeling empathy for the poor woman. His eyes flicked back to Suzy’s picture in the paper. He shook his head and moved his eyes back to his computer screen.

“Mrs. Chan if you don’t have further questions, I will be in contact with you. We’ll do our best to find out what happened.”

“Very well. Thank you, Detective.” Mrs. Chan sniffed.

“Here’s my number if you need to call me, do you have pen?”

“Just one second.”

Gibson listened in as she located a pen and paper, then he rattled off the international contact details. Once done, he placed the receiver of the phone down gently. This part of the job never got easier, no matter how near of far the next of kin were.

Clasping his hands together, he bowed his head for a moment in thought.

The women, their fates, his role as a Detective, Janssen, and how he and the department had a job to do, crept up to haunt him.

To leave a case unsolved, he pondered on the thought, means failing the families of the victims, as well as society as a whole.

Finally, he picked up the phone to contact Dr. Cleveland at the morgue. He needed a digital image of the body for Mrs. Chan, and fast along with any new forensic information.

15

Undercover

Madeline Sloane

Madeline exited Amsterdam Centraal station and crossed the road. The clock tower chimed in the background over the heavy moving evening traffic. It was eight on a Wednesday night.

The Red Light District will be buzzing by now, she thought.

She hurried along the cobbled pavements. As she did, the doors of the cafés swung open. A waft of cannabis hit her system, and the leaves under her boots crunched. She dodged the puddles of rainwater as she walked.

Rounding the corner, she made her way up the road toward Erotica, a gentlemen’s club where two of the victims were known to work at, at least, from her research. Ana De Jog was still missing, and Lotte Van De Berg’s body had turned up shortly after Ana’s disappearance behind a dust bin.

The entrance of Erotica was lit up with red lights.

Madeline opened the door, then stepped inside. She blended in with the crowd this time, wearing skinny jeans, black boots, and a sparkly vest top under her coat, with light make-up. She had also straightened her naturally curly dark hair, so she looked more glamorous going undercover this time.

From the entrance, she looked around at the patrons. There was no one she recognised. Not that she had many friends in the city anyway, still, she had to be sure no one would recognise her.

She headed straight over to the bar, walking through a maze of people.

A female barmaid smiled and moved over to her.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

“A glass of rosé, please.”

The barmaid moved off to uncork a fresh bottle of wine. She poured the cool liquid into a glass, then slid it across the bar to Madeline.

“That’s five euros please,” said the barmaid.

Madeline handed over the money, as she did, she started her own investigation.

“Busy tonight?” She made small talk.

“Kinda. But not as busy as usual.”

Madeline didn’t take her eyes off the woman. She watched her enter the transaction, closed the cash register, and

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