'No. Not at all. He struck me as a man who knows himself, and therefore knows others. Socrates said that, I believe. The greatest feat is to know yourself. I think Shon Wancho is a wise man.'
'And Maria went to see him?'
'She did, according to my contacts. Every time she visited the island she would hire a car and go out there each day. She would leave the hotel after breakfast and come back before nightfall. But I don't know what she did out there. Nobody but Shon Wancho himself would know. His place is close to the sea and hidden behind some cliffs and I don't think anyone would dare to spy on the old man.'
'Hmm,' the commissaris said, 'I will have to go out there.'
'Perhaps you should.'
'And I will have to go and see her father. He knows about her death, I assume.'
'We informed him,' Silva said.
'He knows she was murdered?'
'He does. He was very upset although he tried not to show it.'
'I'll have to hire a car.'
'No,' Silva said. 'I will give you a police car and a driver.'
'I would rather have a map of the island. I'll see more if I have to find my own way.'
'As you like,' Silva said. 'I'll go down to the garage with you and we will give you an unmarked car.'
12
Grijpstra had been amused when he saw De Gier at the central station of Amsterdam, huddled in a heavy, dark blue duffelcoat and adorned with a binocular case dangling from a leather strap, but now he envied the sergeant, who stood at die railing of the ferry, warm and comfortable under bis load of cloth while Grijpstra felt die wind go right through his thin raincoat and had to hang on to his hat.
'Beautiful,' said de Gier, who had been looking down at the sea. The waves were short and choppy and gray, reflecting the heavy clouds above them.
'What?' Grijpstra asked.
'The sea,' de Gier said, 'and the sky, and the island over there.'
Schiermonnikoog was showing itself as a dark green line on the horizon. The overgrown dikes, a man-made barrier to protect the rich grazing land of the south of the island, interrupted the wide fluid space of the shallow Waddensea all around them. Seagulls were floating above and just behind the ship, effortless, keeping themselves in balance with slight flicks of the ends of their wings.
'It's cold,' Grijpstra said. 'Spring is warmer in the city.'
'But we are not in the city, we are here. Look at the birds. We'll see a lot of birds on the island, it's a bird's paradise.'
'I know,' Grijpstra said. 'I have been here before. But it was warmer then, toward the end of July. I camped with the kids.'
His voice sounded gruff. De Gier stopped looking at the sea. 'You didn't like it?'
'The kids enjoyed it.'
'Did you like it?'
'No.'
'Why not?'
'Too full. There were so many tents and beach cabins and people pulling carts and pushing bicycles that I thought die damn island would sink. Everything was full, you had to wait half an hour before they would serve you in the restaurants. And sand, sand everywhere. There was a gale blowing most of the time and we nearly lost the tent. The lines broke and it tried to fly into the sea. The sand got into my nose, I had to pick it all the time.'
'It'll be all right now, the holidays haven't started yet.'
Grijpstra eyed the approaching strip of land suspiciously. It had begun to rain.
'You don't look like a birdwatcher,' de Gier said. 'You look like a policeman. Don't you have a cap in your suitcase? Nobody wears a hat here.'
'No,' Grijpstra said guiltily, 'but I'll put my hat in my bag, it keeps blowing away anyway. And maybe they'll have a coat like yours in the shops.'
'I thought my duffelcoat was silly, you made a lot of funny remarks about it on the train.'
'It looks silly, but I had forgotten we were going to be birdwatchers.'
'Never mind,' de Gier said pleasantly. 'Do you know anything about birds?'
'Seagulls.'
'That's something. Any other birds?'
'Swans.'
'There won't be any here.'
'Sparrows,' Grijpstra said impatiently. 'What does it matter? If there are any experts out there they'll be airing their knowledge and all I have to do is say they are right. Do you know anything about birds?'
'Sure,' de Gier said. 'I even have a book on birds. I studied it last night. Oystercatchers with red beaks, and coot, two types of coot, with a white spot on the head and with a red spot on the head, and mallards and…'
'Yes,' Grijpstra said in a loud voice.
'What yes?'
'I know. Don't try to impress me. I know what a mallard is. A mallard is a plain silly fat Amsterdam duck sitting on the canal. Every day I see a hundred mallard, two hundred mallard, three hundred…'
His voice was rising.
'All right,' de Gier said. 'You know what a mallard is. But do you know what a cormorant is?'
'I don't care,' Grijpstra said, and sneezed.
'You still have your cold.'
'The cold is O.K.'
De Gier studied his friend's face. Grijpstra didn't look well. The skin of his face seemed to have lost its elasticity and his eyes had sunk a little into their sockets.
'Wait,' de Gier said, and went into the passengers' cabin. He bought two paper cups filled with hot creamy coffee and four fat sausages, packed in thick plastic skins.
'Have some coffee,' he said, and passed the cup carefully to Grijpstra. 'Mind, it's hot. You haven't had breakfast, we should have eaten something on the train.'
Grijpstra stared at the coffee swirling in the paper cup. Little bubbles had formed on the surface and the bubbles turned in irregular circles.
De Gier gulped his coffee, and took a sausage out of his pocket. 'Good sausages,' he said. 'I have two for you as well, but finish your coffee first.'
He began to peel the plastic skin off the little roll of solid fat meat.
Grijpstra looked at the sausage, threw his cup overboard, and bent down over the railing. His hat was caught by the wind again but this time he didn't try to grab it.
De Gier looked sadly at his sausage. He opened his hand and it fell into the sea. It sank. He saw Grijpstra's hat, rapidly being tossed about by strong white-headed waves.
'There's your hat,' de Gier said, 'and you have vomited on my sausage.'
Grijpstra vomited again and de Gier walked over to the other side of the ship, where he ate the other three sausages. The ship was now approaching the small harbor of Schiermonnikoog and he collected Grijpstra's and his own suitcase. They met again on the gangway.
'You're all right now?'
Grijpstra nodded, and put his right foot on the island's solid ground.
'You've made it,' de Gier said.
Grijpstra turned around, slowly pulling back his heavy right arm. His large hand had become a fist and he was staring at de Gier's chin.
'I am sorry,' de Gier said. 'I didn't buy those sausages to make you sick. I really thought you might be
