Happy Valentine's Day, Inspector: Hans Van Der Meer's Investigations

By Eugene Pitch

THERE'S NOTHING SWEETER THAN DEATH.

 

With Valentine's Day approaching, the usually grumpy Inspector Van Der Meer is thrust into an extraordinary mystery. Amsterdam's most esteemed chocolatier has died in a catastrophic fire that destroyed his shop. Opinions are divided: was it an unfortunate accident, or dark revenge?

 

The intrigue deepens with the discovery of an unusual item in a box of chocolates meant for the inspector's wife. Coincidence, or a clue hidden in plain sight?

 

This gripping narrative from the Deception Series packs a punch, delivering a story rich in mystery and suspense in a compact read. As the investigation unfolds, every clue is a piece of the puzzle in a case as complex as the finest chocolate. "HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, INSPECTOR" is a masterfully crafted tale that ensures the truth, as sweet or bitter as it may be, is savored until the very end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eugene Pitch
• Release date: Feb 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224430062

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Ludwig had an innate talent for certain things. Chocolate, like confectionery in general, was his only passion. Dark, nutty, with pistachios, milk, chili, orange. There was no new or traditional combination that he had not yet tried. And each time, the result was the same. A wide, sincere smile on the customer's face.

Everyone went to Ludwig's chocolate shop. There was the housewife who wanted to forget loneliness, the well-known lawyer looking for a way to assuage his guilt or the neighbor's son who wanted a gift for his new girlfriend. Even the mayor, who just couldn't do without chocolate before Monday morning meetings.

Then, there was also the less respectable clientele. Low-class people with unmentionable secrets.

Ludwig knew everyone. And everyone knew him and appreciated his art. Because this, he created in the kitchen: sweet, unmistakable art.

Nora, you go ahead. I'll finish tidying up here. If you're late, your boyfriend will get jealous, he joked, turning to the cashier. And take these ginger chocolates with you. That way you don't need to look for a gift for Valentine's Day.

The girl stammered in embarrassment.

Th-thanks, Mr. Ludwig... I...

You will thank me later. Now go home.

When the man closed the doors, he paused for a moment to enjoy the silence. It was a little ritual he did every day before going home.

He ran a hand over his thick salt-and-pepper hair and let out a long sigh, but he could not relax. Something was nagging at him deep inside. It was like a foreboding. As if it were the end of the games, the last day, an unrelenting deadline.

He turned off the club lights and walked toward the back exit.

Someone, however, immediately turned them back on.

CHAPTER

ONE

If February's cold weather ever had an end, it certainly would not have been that day. Yet there was something that bothered him even more.

Inspector Hans Van Der Meer turned to the white wall of the living room for the umpteenth time.

Jesus, when are they going to stop with that drill? I say, you can't even rest on Sundays!

Honey, we, too, when we moved here, had to adapt the house to our needs, his wife replied.

Yes, but I don't think we disturbed the neighbors day and night for a week!

She looked at him tenderly. Hans looked just funny snuggled on the couch with the flannel cover and the red slippers leaning neatly to one side. The clock was striking at almost two o'clock.

Listen, Olga, can you make me a coffee, please? I need to digest because these new neighbors have sent my lunch sideways.

Go do it yourself, I want to rest too.

He grumbled something and then dove back into reading his book, Sapiens by Yuval Harari.

As he reasoned about the fate of humanity, his stomach prompted him to reach out a hand to the coffee table in the living room. He grabbed a couple of chocolates and greedily put them in his mouth. After all, despite the neighbors, perhaps it was not such a Sunday to cancel after all.

Remember Emma. Her violin lesson ends in an hour, and you have to go get her back.

Yes, I know, Hans replied.

Besides, you know Anne is sleeping over at her friend's today, so when you go shopping you don't need to buy bread for everyone.

Yes, I know! he replied, annoyed, and snatched two more chocolates.

And stop eating all that chocolate. You'll get diabetes. Being treated by Olga like a six-year-old irritated him to no end. But he ignored her.

At that moment, his cell phone began to vibrate madly.

Tell me.

It was Brugel, his colleague. There is a code 03, sir.

Hans hastily pulled himself up from the couch. Where?

His wife cast him a look of pity. As usual, she said to herself.

I'll be there in 10 minutes.

It was really a Sunday to forget.

CHAPTER

TWO

There was rubble everywhere. The blackness left on the floor by the flames seemed to want to engulf him at any moment and drag him down to the bowels of hell.

At that sight, Inspector Hans Van Der Meer felt overwhelmed by a peculiar stench: burned plastic. It went all the way down to his stomach and didn't hint at letting go for a moment. And with it, another indefinite, almost sweetish smell.

Along with his men, firefighters had already arrived on the scene.

A fine fire, sir, Brugel said almost smugly.

There is little to rejoice about, I would say.

Thomas Brugel, class of 1970, was a good person but totally unreliable. He was like a middle school kid trapped in 98 pounds of insecurity. It was a miracle that he had been granted the badge. There were days when Hans wondered if, by any chance, he had a secret relative in the upper echelons of the police force.

Let's recap, Brugel; who called you?

One Welma Van Klauss. She used to work here.

Did you summon her to the police station?

He should be there in an hour or so. He is currently out of town.

All right. And where is he?

In the other room, sir, this way, and motioned for him to follow.

They advanced with unsteady steps. Around them, an eerie silence broken only by the voices of the rescuers. Hans had seen a fire like that before. It had happened four years earlier when a group of neo-Nazis had set fire to a Turkish restaurant. There, too, it had occurred at night. A long night searching for the staff: the manager, a cook, and a couple of waitresses. Eventually, they had found them: they had crammed into the bathrooms. They