power, a passive power. All they have to do is smile a little and men run to them. Men don't want to be manipulated but they are, by women and their own uncontrolled desires. Perhaps the colonel and Mr. Wauters are pleased now, because they can go and hunt for fresh game. And perhaps she was blackmailing them. Our friends wouldn't admit that they were being blackmailed. That's understandable. The blackmailer is dead and the secret has gone with her. Three detectives have gone through the houseboat today; tomorrow morning we'll know what they have found. Nobody has taken anything out of the ship for I had it guarded all night and this morning until the detectives arrived. Perhaps we'll find something.'
'What did you think of the colonel, sir?'Grijpstra asked.
'An intelligent man,' the commissaris said. 'He admitted a lot which was good strategy if he had anything to hide. He even admitted having spent a fortune on her during the last three years, but a fortune he could afford to spend. Colonels have a good income, especially in the American army. He has an alibi and I am sure it's a good alibi. The American military police will be checking it now but it will hold. But the colonel said something which may support your theory, de Gier.'
'Did he say she was a witch?' de Gier asked.
The commissaris smiled. 'No. But he said that she was very attractive and that I would have been interested in her if I had ever met her. I said that I am an old man and suffering from rheumatism. And then he said that Mrs. van Buren would perhaps have cured me. Rheumatism is hard to cure.'
'Did you ask him if Mrs. van Buren had been interested in plants?' de Gier asked.
'No,' the commissaris said. 'I didn't think of it. The remark only sunk in later.'
'You can contact the American military police and they can ask him,' Grijpstra said.
'I may. And I may not.'
'You don't think it matters?' de Gier asked.
'Perhaps not. She was killed by a man who didn't like her. He didn't like her because she was blackmailing him, or because she had humiliated him. She may also have been killed because she knew something. The Secret Service is interested in her and has been interested for some time. Perhaps some professional killer paid by an embassy has thrown the dagger. The fact that she is a witch, which isn't a fact so far, may have nothing to do with her death. We may have to consider her sorcery as a hobby.'
The commissaris got up. 'It's late, gentlemen, and you will want to go to bed. Tomorrow is another day and we'll see what it brings. I'll get hold of IJsbrand Drachtsma and make an appointment with him for the afternoon. You should be there as well and we can ask all the questions we want to ask without military policemen and diplomats hovering around us. Phone me at one o'clock tomorrow and I'll tell you when he is coming. Tomorrow morning you should try and find the man with the Edam cheese face, the fellow who wears a red waistcoat and who has a small son who plays with a ball. You can ask everybody in the area and show your sketch. While you find the red waistcoat I'll be contacting the police in and find out as much as I can about Maria van Buren's background. Good night.'
'Sleep well, sir,' de Gier said.
'Wait,' the commissaris said. 'I still have to phone a taxi for Grijpstra.'
'It's all right, sir,' Grijpstra said. 'I'll walk to the taxi stand; it's a nice evening.'
'As you wish.'
The commissaris walked them to his front door and smiled as he shook hands. He looked very friendly.
'I hope that Belgian fellow hasn't done it,' de Gier said when they were walking toward the taxi stand.
'Why not?'
'Because he is a diplomat, we can't arrest him.'
'You want to punish somebody?' Grijpstra asked. 'I thought you didn't believe in punishment. Didn't you tell me the other day that it would be much more fun catching criminals if you could be sure they would be taken to a nice place with a large park where they could relax and eat good food and play games and become healthy again?'
'Yes,' de Gier said. 'Criminals are sick people and should be cured in pleasant surroundings. But there are exceptions. This murderer killed a beautiful woman and beautiful women are scarce. A man like that should wear a ball and chain. And Mrs. van Buren was a witch as well. I would have liked to meet her.'
'Ach,' Grijpstra said.
'You don't agree?'
'I agree,' Grijpstra said, and patted de Gier on the back. 'Now you go home and go to sleep and dream dreams.'
'Life is a dream,' de Gier said.
'That's enough. Good night.'
The taxi door slammed and the car took off.
De Gier waved.
Grijpstra didn't look around.
6
It was ten o'clock in the morning and it was raining. De Gier had just knocked on the door of a houseboat and was waiting for the door to open. He had put up the collar of his stylish raincoat and was muttering a string of curses, directed at himself who had bought the raincoat and the manufacturer of the raincoat who had forgotten to waterproof it.
The door opened and a fat woman, dressed in a torn peignoir and with her hair hanging down her face, looked at him with bleary eyes. 'No, thank you,' she said, and slammed the door.
De Gier knocked again.
'Go away,' the woman shouted from inside the boat, 'whatever it is you want to sell me, I don't want it.'
De Gier knocked again.
'Go away,' the woman shrieked, 'or I'll phone the police.'
'I am the police,' de Gier shouted.
The door opened.
'Show your identification,' the woman said, and pulled the card out of his hands. She studied the card, holding it at arm's length, spelling out the words to herself. 'Amsterdam Municipal Police. R. de Gier, sergeant.'
'All right,' she said, 'what do you want, sergeant?'
'Can I come in a minute?'
The woman stepped aside. De Gier gave her a photocopy of the sketch Bart de Jong had made of the man in the red waistcoat and his little son, holding a ball.
'Do you know this man at all, madam?'
'Let me get my glasses.'
The fat woman got her glasses, polished them, and put them on. She studied the sketch carefully. 'I have seen him,' she said, 'he only comes on Sundays, Sunday mornings. Walks about with his son. A lot of people come here for walks but I wouldn't remember them but I remember this one because of his silly waistcoat. A red waistcoat. He has a golden watch chain as well. He reminded me of my grandfather, that's why I remember him too.'
'Do you know his name?'
'No,' the woman said, 'why should I? I never talked to him. Why are you looking for him?'
'We want to ask him a few questions,' de Gier said, looking around and noticing how well kept the interior of the boat was. Everything was in its place, the furniture looked as if it had been polished a few minutes ago, the windows were so clean that he had to look again to make sure that there was glass in them. 'Typical,' de Gier thought, forcing himself to look at the woman who was still eyeing him suspiciously. 'Ugly woman,' de Gier thought, 'should go on a diet and spend an hour a day on herself. She can't be thirty yet, could be quite attractive if she tried.'
