didn't talk much when I was with her. I told you before, didn't I?'
'Sure,' de Gier said. 'How do you feel about it now?'
'Rotten,' Koopman said. 'How do you expect me to feel? Nobody likes the girl he is making love to to die. I am not an animal.
'She is dead,' de Gier said. 'Do you believe in the hereafter?'
'I believe in the here and now,' Koopman said, 'and believe me, I know what I am talking about. The needle has taught me many things you wouldn't know about. You couldn't know about it. Maybe you think you know something when you have a few drinks but to be drunk is different. Alcohol makes you talk and relax and you lose your fears and inhibitions but the drug is different. It teaches.'
'Look at the mess you are in,' de Gier said. 'Aren't you sorry you became a pupil of the drug?'
'Perhaps,' Koopman said, 'perhaps. Perhaps not. Heroin gives a lot but it takes a lot in return. I used to have a comfortable student's flat and I lived what you chaps call a decent life. The drug has changed it all. Perhaps I am sorry, but it doesn't matter now. The drug's got me, there's nothing I can do about it.'
'You feel better now than you did last time,' Grijpstra said. 'Did you have your fix today?'
'Of course,' Koopman said, and walked past the detectives to wash his face in the sink. He dried himself with a dirty rag.
'Where do you get your heroin?' de Gier asked.
'At the institute,' Koopman said, 'free and for nothing. I was picked up in the street some time ago and the health service took me to the institute. They treated me for a while and now I am an out-patient. I get a free supply every day but they are decreasing the dose and it isn't enough anymore so I have to make up the difference.'
'So where do you get the difference?' Grijpstra asked.
Koopman looked up as if he didn't believe what he heard. 'You aren't serious,' he said. 'You want me to tell you where I get my fix?'
'Sure,' Grijpstra said.
'You want me to end up in the canal? Like that boy they fished up last month? They had throttled him.'
'Who are they?' Grijpstra asked.
'Ha,' Koopman said.
'Look here,' de Gier said. 'We want to know. And you will tell us. If you don't we'll pick you up. Have you forgotten the dead girl? Maybe we aren't satisfied with your explanation. You were here, and we can take you with us for questioning. We can keep you twice twenty-four hours and the public prosecutor is sure to give us permission to keep you for a week, maybe longer. You'll be in a bare cell.'
'No drugs in a bare cell,' the youth said to himself.
'Exactly,' de Gier said.
The boy thought for a while.
'We have a fellow in a cell some time ago,' Grijpstra said pleasantly. 'He was scratching the walls. He got his three meals a day and his tea and his coffee but that wasn't enough for him. So he was scratching the walls all the time.'
Koopman looked at him.
'What are you?' he asked 'Gestapo?'
'The Gestapo wasn't interested in drugs,' de Gier said, 'but we are. Now make up your mind. Are you going to tell us or do you prefer to spend a couple of weeks in a cell, sitting on a chair that is screwed to the floor. You know that you can't lie down during the day, do you? The bed is fastened against the wall. There's just the chair and the four walls. And a day lasts twenty-four hours in jail. That's a long time.'
'All right,' Koopman said, 'you win. I buy it from a little shop in the Merelsteeg. They sell Indian clothes and cheap stuff from the Far East.'
'Take us there,' Grijpstra said. 'Go into the shop and buy. Then we come in and arrest the shopkeeper. We'll arrest you as well but we'll let you go in the street.'
'No,' Koopman said.
The detectives lit cigarettes. The conversation went on for another few minutes. At one stage Grijpstra had Koopman by the shoulders and was hissing at him. Koop-man trembled.
'All right?' de Gier asked.
Koopman nodded.
'They'll kill me,' he said. 'I'll be in the canal. Drug dealers never stay in jail long. They carry knives. You carry guns.'
'We haven't pulled a gun on you have we?' Grijpstra asked.
'Let's go,' Koopman said.
The Merelsteeg is a narrow lightless street dating back three hundred years. Its houses are on the verge of collapsing and are supported temporarily by thick beams jutting out into the street and put up by the Public Works Department. A few houses are being restored and the alley's inhabitants are encouraged to paint their woodwork. There are a few small trees and some creepers grow up the gables. The alley almost died and it's still sickly. Koopman went into the little shop, the detectives counted to five and rushed the door. The small plastic bag was halfway across the counter.
'Police,' Grijpstra said. The tall thin man behind the counter looked resigned. A small child came from the back of the shop and looked at the policemen.
'Hello,' de Gier said but the child didn't reply. A woman came down the stairs.
'I told you it would happen,' the woman said. 'It had to happen one day.'
'Shut up,' the man said. There was no anger in his voice.
'You,' de Grier said to Koopman, 'come with me.'
'Can I go?' Koopman asked when they were back in the alley.
'Sure. Here is my card. Don't change your address without letting us know.'
'This isn't my day,' Koopman said. 'Some people came to tell me last night that I have to shift my boat to another canal. If I don't it will sink within three days. They didn't like that business with the dead girl. And now this.'
'Too bad,' de Gier said and walked back to the shop.
'Why do you sell drugs?' Grijpstra asked.
'Why?' the man asked. 'Why do you think? I'll give you three guesses. Because I like it? Wrong. Because I want to be arrested by the police? Wrong again. Because I want to make a little money to keep my family? Right.'
'Can't you work?' Grijpstra asked.
'No,' the woman answered, 'he's been in a mental home. He can't get a job.'
'Doesn't the state pay?'
'Sure,' the woman said, 'and I wanted to go out and do some work as well but he wants me to be here.'
'Grovel about on your knees and mop floors,' the man said.
'What's wrong with being a charwoman?' the woman asked. 'I'd rather mop floors than have you in jail.'
'We'll have to search the place,' Grijpstra said. 'You better give me what you have.'
The man gave him a little tin containing a dozen little plastic bags filled with white powder.
'Any more?'
'No.'
'Where did you get it?'
The man shook his head.
'Tell him,' the woman said. 'I am not afraid.'
But the man was and they had to spend a little time on him. The woman helped. Finally the man gave in. He bought his supplies in a little bar in the red-light district.
'We'll have to take your husband with us,' de Gier said to the woman.
'Be easy with him,' the woman said. 'His mind isn't right.'
'We'll see what we can do,' Grijpstra said.
That evening the bar was raided. It was raided very professionally and some drugs were found but there
