'And?'
'He said he didn't know.'
18
It was five o'clock in the afternoon and the Commissaris was about to lower himself into the bath when the telephone in his room began to ring.
'This is Drachtsma.'
The commissaris mumbled something, trying to hold on to the towel which was slipping off his narrow hips.
'I thought that you would perhaps stay on the island until tomorrow and I was wondering if you would care to join us for dinner tonight. The island's mayor is coming as well and some of the aldermen and I thought that you might like to meet them.'
'Thank you,' the commissaris said, trying to light a cigar and hold on to the towel at the same time. 'Would you mind if I brought my assistant, Sergeant de Gier? I don't think he'll enjoy having dinner by himself and Adjutant Grijpstra is ill and staying with the Buismans for the time being.'
There was a short silence. 'I don't know whether the sergeant will feel comfortable in the presence of tonight's company.'
The commissaris bit on his cigar, it broke, and he spat it out.
'I am sure he'll be quite comfortable.'
'All right,' Drachtsma said. 'The sergeant will be welcome. I wonder if you could come between seven and seven-thirty? Shall I send the car for you?'
'I have seen your house, somebody pointed it out to me. It couldn't be more than a few miles from the hotel. I think we'll walk.'
'See you tonight,' Drachtsma said.
'Bah,' the commissaris said, lit a fresh cigar, picked up the towel and marched into the bathroom.
De Gier was telephoning to Headquarters in Amsterdam.
'We have got him,' he was saying to Adjutant Geurts, 'a half-brother of the murdered woman. Family drama, very sad.'
'Did he confess?'
'No, he went mad instead.'
'But you are sure he did it?'
'He threw the knife,' de Gier said.
'Congratulations. What about this Mr. Holman, the fellow with the red waistcoat? He is due to come to see us again tonight. We had him here yesterday as well.'
'No, he is all right,' de Gier said.
'I am not so sure. He is very nervous, you know, he must be hiding something or other.'
'Probably hasn't paid enough tax,' de Gier said. 'Phone him and tell him we have found our man.'
'All right,' Adjutant Geurts said. 'Give me a ring when you get to Amsterdam, I'll meet you somewhere for a drink. Sietsema and I would like to hear all about it.'
'No, not tonight. We aren't finished yet, and Grijpstra is ill. It may be a few days.'
'What do you mean 'not finished'? You have your man, haven't you?'
'Yes, yes,' de Gier said, 'but it's a funny case.'
'And Grijpstra? What's wrong with him?'
'Flu. I'll go and see him now, he is staying with friends.'
'You are having a holiday,' Geurts said. 'I know. Sitting on the beach.'
'Yes,' de Gier said, 'and we are allowed to use the police launch. And there is a yacht. And I have met some girls. We are going to a party tonight. A wild party. The island is full of naturalists. We'll be chasing each other on the beach tonight, stark naked. It's full moon, you know. These islands are different from what we are used to on the mainland. People are very free. The girls will come up to you and smile and say 'would you like to sleep with me tonight?' and nobody minds. Not even their husbands or boyfriends. And they have some beautiful folk dances.'
'Really?'
'Yes,' de Gier said.
'Do they still do headhunting?'
'They drink beer from the skulls of their enemies and wear rabbit skins. But I'll have to ring off.'
'Bah,' Geurts said to Sietsema who had been listening in. 'Have you noticed it always happens to them? Nothing ever happens to us.'
'Never mind,' Sietsema said. 'We still have that old lady who was clobbered on the head by the two Arabs and the man who has a houseful of stolen bicycles. And another case came up this afternoon while you were in the canteen. It sounds interesting.'
'What case?'
'A man who was taken to hospital this morning by ambulance. He has cracked his skull and broken his arm and there is something wrong with his leg. He told an unlikely story to the doctor and the doctor didn't believe him and phoned us.'
'What story?'
'Well,' Sietsema said, looking through his notes. 'I hope I have got it right. The man is a student who lives in a garden flat, that's a beautified cellar, I believe. He often sleeps late and this morning he only got up at eleven because somebody rang his bell. He was still groggy from last night's drinking and he didn't bother to dress so he was walking through the corridor without his clothes. The bell was still ringing and he began to run and his cat, a young playful animal, jumped up and took a swing at his balls. But the cat had forgotten to keep his nails in and he really got the man.'
'Ha.'
'Yes,' Sietsema said, 'so the man jumped up and cracked his skull on a pipe, a gas pipe running along the ceiling. Somebody saw him lying in the corridor. He was bleeding and he had hurt his foot when he fell. The ambulance came and the attendants strapped him to the stretcher. He was still conscious so they asked him what happened and he told them. And then they laughed so much that they dropped the stretcher and he broke his arm.'
Geurts stared at Sergeant Sietsema. 'You are getting like de Gier,' he said.
'No. Here is the number. Ring the hospital. They reckon it can't be true and that someone must have beaten him up.'
Geurts picked up the telephone.
De Gier was walking on the island's main dike. It was low tide and a sea of mud stretched on for miles. Thousands of birds were feeding in the mud and their white bodies contrasted with the dark clouds packed on the horizon. The island's people were all in their houses having tea, and the world around him was quiet; not even the birds made a sound, being too busy with their feeding. He stopped and gazed. A horse, tied to a stake in a meadow on the other side of the dike, whinnied. De Gier looked at the horse. The sun, shining through a hole in the clouds, seemed to concentrate on the horse and it looked as if it had been set alight, a white burning horse prancing about in the dark green meadow. De Gier sighed.
He looked up at the clouds. The hole was closing and mere was only one beam of orange light left, but it was still focused on the horse which, as if it felt that it was being part of the inexpressible, reared and shook its forelegs.
'Good day, Mrs. Buisman,' de Gier said. 'How are your patients?'
'Come in and have some tea,' the fat woman said, looking efficient in her white apron. 'Your friend is fast
