Thijs Gorter

Thijs Gorter is 29 and a mechanic in the brewery's garage. Born in Haarlem, the son of a tram driver, he worked ten years as a carpenter in Wessel's shop before changing trades. For two years he has repaired the brewery's cars, including the boss's, and says the company pays on time, unlike his old boss, and even gives free beer on Fridays. He doesn't drink, but his colleagues are grateful.

He lives in a rented room in a brick house in Amsterdam West, with a bicycle in the hallway, a window onto the backyard and a camping stove on the shelf. He reaches the garage at seven, eats a packed lunch of bread and cheese and leaves at five, when the winter light is already evening. At night he plays checkers with a retired neighbor and counts coins for the rent.

He is thin, with a fine face, brown hair down to his collar, a sparse mustache and dark circles. He wears a blue mechanic's coverall with an embroidered emblem on the chest and a nylon hooded jacket over it, and his hands are almost always stained with grease. He spins a metal key ring between his fingers when nervous, talks fast, corrects himself mid-sentence and apologizes when there's no need.

About the boss's car, his account is that of a technician: when the police returned it, he found fine sawdust on the back carpet and in the pedal grooves, from marine plywoodmarine plywood Plywood made of layers bonded with water-resistant glue, used in boats and in damp places. mixed with contact cement, the kind left by someone gluing laminate onto plywood. About the carpentry shop, he says the bookkeeper has the key to the gate and stays there until midnight. He left because of the late payments.

Thijs knows a former employee of a carpentry shop who now repairs the brewery's cars knows the routine on both sides, and that weighs heavily on a list of three names. When the detective says he gave the boss's routine to the kidnappers, he replies that he repairs cars and doesn't sell anyone's life, and asks to be left in peace without proof. It could be the agony of a decent man caught in a coincidence. It could be someone spinning the key ring to hide a tremor. The detective will have to decide which.