me everywhere I went. He loves me, he even hunts for me. He is always bringing me birds and mice, rats even. Once he caught a crow, a big crow. Crows are hard to catch. He brought the bird to my bed, I was ill at the time, and dropped it on the blanket. Made a mess, my wife didn’t like that, but he loves her too.”
“You like animals, don’t you?”
“I like Tobias. I don’t get on with other animals, or with people. My wife and I live very much on our own, but we don’t mind. If they don’t bother us we don’t bother diem. I have my books. I am an engineer. I have a basement where I can work. I don’t need anybody anymore.”
The commissaris had been looking at a large framed painting hanging in the shadows of the room.
“That’s Tobias,” de Bree said. “My wife did it. It isn’t painted but embroidered, in very small stitches. We found a store where an artist will do a portrait on canvas and they sell you wool so that you can embroider the portrait yourself. People usually like to make portraits like that of their children but we don’t have any. I gave my wife the canvas for her birthday. It took her months to stitch it.”
The commissaris had got up to study the gobelin. “Remarkable! An amazing likeness. Your cat has an interesting face.”
Cardozo whipped out his handkerchief and began to blow his nose furiously.
De Bree had lost interest. He was staring at the floor, his hand resting limply on the cat’s back.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Does mat help? If I say I am sorry? I’ll pay if you like. The Carnet ladies must have had some expenses, perhaps they want to put in a claim. I’ll pay for the vet and whatever you say I should pay on top of the vet’s bill for damages. I suppose I owe it to mem.”
“The judge would like to hear you say that.” The commissaris had sat down and was stirring his tea. “But why did you want to kill Paul? Death through arsenic poisoning is very unpleasant, painful. The victim suffers cramps, vomits, he may suffer for a fairly long time until the coma finally sets in. You knew that, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I suppose so. I didn’t think of it. Arsenic is the only poison I could find, they sell it to kill rats. I would have bought a better poison if it had been available.”
“But why kill the dog?”
De Bree shrugged. “There was no choice. Paul is a young strong dog. Terriers are fierce and quick on their feet. So is Tobias, but Tobias can only see on one side. The silly cat doesn’t know that the gardens around belong to others, he thinks they are all his private hunting ground. The other cats run away when they see him coming but Paul is a hunter too, and he has been out to kill Tobias for a while now. I have broken up some of their fights, but I can’t be in the garden all the time. So…”
“No.” The commissaris had put down his cup and his hands grabbed the sides of his chair. “No, sir. You should have thought of another solution. A very high fence, for instance, there’s a limit to what cats can do. A carpenter could have constructed a fence that couldn’t have been scaled by Tobias. The point is that you didn’t want to restrict your cat. You can’t deny other people the right to have a pet because their pet is a threat to yours. You could also have moved to the country. You are not economically bound to the city. You have alternatives, Mr. de Bree.”
De Bree’s eyelids sagged. “I said I was sorry.”
“Yes.”
Cardozo had brought out his notebook. “I’ll have to take your statement, sir. Would you describe what you did and tell us exactly when you did it. It can be a short statement, but it’ll have to be in your own words.”
“On Wednesday, the first of June, at about twelve hundred hours…”
De Bree’s voice was flat. Cardozo was writing furiously as the voice droned on. De Bree proved that his mind was trained in exactitude and had the ability to report logically connected events.
Cardozo read the statement back and de Bree brought out his fountain pen.
“Thank you,” the commissaris said, “and please thank your wife for her hospitality.”
“Will I have to go to jail?” de Bree asked as the policemen stepped into the street.
“It’s up to the judge, sir. I’m sorry, our task is finished now. Perhaps you should consult your lawyer when you receive the summons.”
The door closed with an almost inaudible click.
“A telephone, Cardozo. Is there a public booth around?’
“Any news, dear?”
He held the phone away from his ear as his secretary reported.
“Grijpstra and the sergeant had some trouble, sir. The radio room says that they had to ask the water police for assistance. I’ve had a report from the water police too, but it isn’t very detailed. It only says that they chased a boat belonging to a Mr. Vleuten and that Mr. Vleuten wasn’t with his boat when they found it. Sergeant de Gier fell into the river somewhere along the chase but he wasn’t harmed.”
“Really?”
“Yes, sir. And I’ve had a call from Gabrielle Carnet, she found a hundred thousand guilders under her mother’s mattress and thought you would like to hear about it.”
“I would, yes. Anything else? Any news about Mr. Bergen and his facial trouble?”
“Yes, sir, I asked Miss Carnet. The hospital referred Mr. Bergen to a private neurologist and the neurologist detected some serious trouble, it seems. Mr. Bergen will have further tests tomorrow. He is at home now, I have the address. He telephoned his office and Miss Carnet was there when the call came in.”
The commissaris wrote down the address and the telephone number, fumbling on the small metal desk provided in the booth, and managed to drop his ball-point and bump his head as he came up again.
“Oh, sir.”
“Yes?” He had dropped his ball-point again and was rubbing his head.
“There was a note on your desk that I don’t think you’ve seen. It was brought up from Grijpstra’s room as it was addressed to you. A report on the adjutant’s visit to a portrait painter called Wertheym?”
“Yes. Go on.”
“It only says that Wertheym made two identical portraits for Mrs. Carnet. The ‘two’ is underlined.”
“Thanks.” He hung up. Cardozo was staring at him foolishly, his nose pressed against the glass of the booth. The commissaris opened die door, slamming it into Cardozo’s arm. “Don’t stand there like an idiot, Cardozo, did I hurt you?”
“No, sir.”
“Your friend the sergeant got himself into the Amstel River this afternoon, something to do with chasing the baboon, apparently. I wish they’d phoned in. I’ve no idea where they are now, looks as if I’ll have to run after my own assistants. My own fault. I’m pushing this case too hard.”
They walked back to the car. The neighborhood was experiencing a short burst of liveliness as heads of families were coming home, welcomed by grateful wives. Everywhere around them car doors slammed, children rushed out of front doors, fathers put down their briefcases to embrace their offspring. The late afternoon sun was pouring a thick, diffuse light into the long, tree-lined street so that each object threw a tapered, clearcut shadow.
The commissaris stopped to admire a creeper, heavily studded with clusters of white flowers, that had covered an entire wall and seemed ready to climb over it. “Beautiful. But we are still stuck, Cardozo. Remember that motive that was thrown at us? Mrs. Carnet’s eighty thousand guilders? Taken from the bank yesterday, in cash, in crisp notes? Nowhere to be found now?”
“Yes, sir, you told me.”
“Well, it grew to a hundred thousand and it has shown up again, under the lady’s mattress. Gabrielle found the money and was good enough to phone my office. Back where we started.”
Cardozo, who had been nodding encouragingly, lost his smile. He looked so crestfallen that the commissaris cheered up again. “Never mind. Good luck comes to those who keep on trying. Hie old chief constable used to say that and he was right. Tell you what, Cardozo, you go to see Gabrielle now, she’s around the corner. Find out the details of the lucky find and phone your report to the radio room. You can go home afterward, perhaps you should stay home. If I manage to find the adjutant and the sergeant I’ll contact you and we may have a conference to finish off the day.”
Cardozo almost came to attention, turned around, and marched down the street. The small figure in its shabby corduroy jacket, bouncing under a mop of curly hair, looked incongruous between the elegant houses. The commissaris nodded approvingly. Cardozo’s willingness to do his share showed. The young man was shaping up
