Klinkhamer worked as a part-time
auditor but his true love was writing.
He was never in the top rank of Dutch
crime authors, such as Janwillem van
de Wetering, Robert Hans van Gulik or
Saskia Noort, but he enjoyed being in
the second rank and attending literary
soirées. His book of short stories De
Hotelrat (1983) was well-received.
After Hannie disappeared, over the
next decade Klinkhamer made the most
of his new freedom. Neighbours would
complain about him getting drunk in
their homes and talking loudly and
irreverently at parties – but were always
quick to add that he didn’t look or
behave like someone who would kill his
wife.
Klinkhamer would grin mischievously
from ear to ear, lift his trademark
Panama hat and declare mischievously,
“Everyone is able to murder someone,
somewhere, suddenly.” On one occasion,
he pointed out a hole in his garden to a
friend. “Big enough to hide a body,” he
said with a teasing smirk.
A
s news of his antics began to leak out,
he became a small-time celebrity. He
appeared on TV shows and liked to
pop up at book launches. He moved to
Amsterdam in 1997 and sold the house
in Ganzedijk.
On reflection, that was a big mistake.
The new owners decided to knock down
an ugly shed and dig up the concrete
base beneath to increase the size of the
garden. Hannie’s skeleton was dragged
up by a digger. The game was up and
Klinkhamer readily confessed.
He had beaten Hannie to death with
a crowbar on January 31st, 1991, he
said, dug a hole in the shed, dropped
her in the hole and layered the floor in
concrete.
It was done on the spur of the
moment, he said – and who could prove
otherwise?
People speculated on whether he had
killed Hannie so he could write about
it. “That’s what people say. I am not
convinced,” said Willem Donker loyally.
“I think the murder was an accident
and then he got nervous and thought,
my God, how can I get rid of the body?
And then he put it under the shed.”
In 2000, Klinkhamer was sentenced
to six years for manslaughter. He
was released after just three years for
good behaviour and in 2008 Woensdag
Gehaktdag was finally released in its
original form. Reviews described it as
“intriguing” and Klinkhamer enjoyed a
final flurry of fame.
Photographer Laura Cnossen built an
exhibition around his quixotic image in- They had become good friends.
Wasn’t she afraid to visit him – a
self-confessed killer? She smiled. “No,
I’m not afraid. There was a quarrel,
emotions ran high and then it happened
- that’s all there was. He always throws a
party when I visit him.”
Klinkhamer died on Thursday,
January 19th, 2016, in Amsterdam, aged
- Officially, he died in his sleep but
the enigma of his life stayed with him
unto death, thanks to his biographer,
Martin Meijer.
Meijer described him as “a quirky
but friendly man with a good sense
of humour.” He believes it’s possible
his friend killed himself. In his book
Klinkhamer – A Biography (2017), he
describes talking to the writer in 2008.
“I bought a revolver in Belgium a
few years ago,” Klinkhamer said. “A
Magnum Colt. Bang, a bullet through
your head and then you’re off.”
“Don’t you have anything to live for?”
Meijer asked.
“If you’re as old as I am, life doesn’t
much matter anymore. I live all alone. I
expect nothing more of life or of other
people.”
“What are you most sorry about in
your life?”
“What are you
most sorry
about in your
life?”
“That I robbed
Hannie of her
life”
“That I robbed Hannie of her life.”
When he heard that Klinkhamer had
died “a natural death,” Meijer began
to wonder. He visited his friend’s
house and looked around. He found a
notebook. It contained the ambiguous
Dutch phrase, “Strop in 2016.”
“Strop” could mean a strap (for
hanging?), a bang (“from a crowbar?”)
or a “shot” (a pistol?).
Two pictures of Hannie were taped
beside the note. Was that significant?
Meijer shook his head to clear it. Thefind probably meant nothing at all. All
three of these methods would have been
obvious forms of suicide – not to be
confused with a natural death.
What if the note was a red herring
to lead us astray? Klinkhamer’s short
stories were full of such puzzles. What
if there was a fourth means of suicide
that Klinkhamer had used – one which
he knew would not be discovered? Was
Klinkhamer teasing us even in death?
Reduced to the role of a victim in
the narrative of Klinkhamer’s life,
the unfortunate Hannie could now
be passed by and forgotten. She
deserves better. “She was a nice,
intelligent woman,” said Wieters.
“Everyone was very fond of her.”Photographer Laura Cnossen built
an exhibition around Klinkhamer’s
quixotic personalityLeft, the book title translates into
English as Wednesday: Mincing Day