'About something you had done a long time ago. Maybe you broke a window and didn't tell anyone. Or you stole something. The constable doesn't know, doesn't care. He is just riding his bike. I am just selling a house.'
De Gier opened the door of the Dodge.
'What are your plans, sergeant?'
'Nothing in particular, sir. The sheriff told me to familiarize myself with the scene.'
'Fine. Leave your car and come with me. My sister and I are invited by a lady called Janet Wash, any time this afternoon or evening, for a drink. Since she owns most of Cape Orca, we should meet her. I already have, but I was half asleep then. I am sure she won't mind if I bring an extra guest. She is curious about you anyway, since she saw your plane and the sheriff said something about you.'
'Ah, so that's how you knew, sir.'
'Yes, sergeant, and Grijpstra confirmed my suspicion. I phoned the poor man.'
'The scheming and conniving poor man, sir.'
The commissaris put a hand on de Gier's arm. 'All right, sergeant. I know I am a cripple, but 1 can still get around. And I was pleased to see you. It's just that I get a little depressed sometimes, as you well know.'
'Yes, sir. I know, sir. I understand.'
'That's very good of you. Now, we'll go and have this polite drink with Mrs. Wash. We should also find our way to that island, Jeremy's Island. What did you think of the price Astrinsky mentioned?'
'Thirty thousand, sir?'
'Yes, it sounds like a lot, but I am sure it isn't. I don't share Opdijk's taste, and I certainly won't have anything to do with Suzanne's complete lack of taste. But the house is comfortable, well-built, spacious, with several bathrooms and central heating and more rooms in the basement and a garage and a woodshed and a swimming pool even. What would they want with a swimming pool? The bay starts at the end of their grounds. No, thirty thousand can't be right.'
'You might get somebody else to look at the property, sir. Jim would know, the sheriff I mean.'
'You have a radio in your car. Didn't you say so just now?'
'Yes, sir.'
'See if he can send out another realtor. Even if the man doesn't want to buy it, we can get an idea of the right price.'
'Certainly, sergeant,' die sheriff said. 'I have a friend in the next county. I'll ask him to come over tomorrow morning.'
'Thank you, we'll ask the commissaris' sister to be sure to be home then.'
'Okay. I am glad you've started. You're doing well so far. I am glad you met Madelin. She's the local beauty, but she would be a beauty anywhere. Did you like her?'
'Yes, Jim. We're going to have a drink with Mrs. Wash now, and the commissaris is thinking of visiting Jeremy's Island some time, maybe tomorrow. We lost some time at Beth's Diner.'
The sheriff chuckled. 'That place is a trap. You're a true deputy already. If I can't find any of my men I phone Beth, they're sure to be there. Did you say Jeremy's Island?'
'Yes. We'll visit the hermit.'
'If the old gopher lets you. Be careful, he keeps dogs. You know how to make contact with him?'
'No.'
'Go down to the shore. There's a path leading down close to the entrance of the cape. A path marked by red reflectors on rods. You'll find a shed at the end of the path. You'll find a Very pistol in the shed. Fire a green shell over the island and he should come out. He has a rowboat to cross the channel with.'
'Thank you, Jim.'
'You're welcome. Good hunting.'
6
A sudden bump knocked the raccoon hat into De Gier's eyes and he took it off and put it on the empty seat next to him. The station wagon was performing well. They had been driving for some minutes through the interior of Cape Orca on a narrow lane that followed the contours of the land, winding wildly. The commissaris was handling the car as if it were a vehicle on a planet in another galaxy. He kept on changing gears and only braked if there seemed to be no choice. De Gier amused himself by watching the old man's antics. Suzanne sat next to her brother, and her small head bobbed with the movements of the car. From the back the two heads looked identical. De Gier felt a deep admiration for the commissaris, an admiration that had grown through the many years that he had worked under him, and he had difficulty in accepting that the commissaris' sister was stupid. But he could find no other word. The woman seemed to have no interests at all, with the exception of her craving for porcelain objects. He had entered her house briefly. The commissaris had introduced him. Suzanne had smiled. How nice, another Dutchman. She had touched his hand but hadn't bothered to memorize his name. She had prattled on about her coming departure and had asked about her brother's visit to the real estate office. De Gier had seen her living room and its fearful quest for coziness, for protection, for being away from bad things and clinging to good things. Everything in the room was nice, nice and warm, nice and colorful, nice and tasty, nice and comfortable. He had studied the woman's screwed-up, wrinkled face and darting glinting eyes and pronounced her crazy, like a hundred thousand other Dutch old ladies back home who mumble their way through supermarkets, tram rides, happy-end movies, and each other's everlasting company. But he couldn't shrug the woman's craziness away, for it concerned him because it concerned the commissaris, and he was supposed to be assisting his chief.
The car stopped.
'Look, sergeant!'
He gasped. Two deer stood in the path, a doe and her almost full-grown fawn, two delicate shapes, high on their thin legs. The animals stared at the car, immobile for a moment, and then jumped. Their movements were synchronized into a single leap, and he saw their white tails melt away into the undergrowth.
'Deer,' Suzanne said. 'It's the hunting season again, isn't it? I've heard bangs quite close to the house. But there are always bangs; the hunters come out of season too. That's why I don't like to go out so much. Mr. Jones was near his own house when he got shot. Reggie says that rifle bullets travel for miles. It's just like die war when we couldn't go out because the antiaircraft guns splattered shell fragments all over town. Do you remember, Jan?'
'Yes, dear. Are we close now?'
'I think so, Jan. Drive carefully. There are so many accidents here. I don't know whether this car is insured. Opdijk sometimes forgot things.'
'It is insured, Suzanne. I saw the policy last night with your papers in Opdijk's briefcase.'
De Gier made a face and patted the raccoon hat, running his fingers through the thick fur of the tail. There would be raccoons in the woods. The sheriff had told him about the animals and about the locals who hunted them. He wondered how he would go about hunting a raccoon, a wild animal at home in the woods. He imagined himself crashing and tumbling about between the trees, shooting at shadows. His hand strayed to his armpit, but the familiar bulge of the small automatic pistol wasn't there. He could hunt a man in Amsterdam. He supposed the same principle of hunting would apply here. Study the prey, find out what its habits are, track its paths, and then get in its way and shoot it down, aiming for the legs.
But here the hunters were out to kill. They skinned and boned the corpse, and ate the meat and used the fur. A different routine, a different environment. A city slicker in the wild woods. He didn't think he would be able to help the sheriff much. He thought of the sheriff's heartiness and hospitality. A friendly man, but also a calculating man. The sheriff meant to get to the murky bottom of the Cape Orca file, left to him to sort out. No, not to sort out. To put in a drawer and forget. But meanwhile Pete Opdijk had died and two foreign policemen had popped over the horizon. The sheriff meant to use his visitors. The sergeant had already been converted into a useful tool, a spy sniffing about and reporting back to the jailhouse. If anything went wrong the sheriff wasn't to blame. If anything went right the sheriff would reap the credit. De Gier remembered one of Adjutant Grijpstra's early lessons: 'Always look for the lowest possible motivation, sergeant, and then you are usually right. If you are proved wrong you have
