'Yes, sir.'
'Good. Very clever. And this Albert is the jailhouse cook now? What is his cooking like?'
'Excellent, sir. He even bakes bread. The dinner he served was first class, and his breakfast was even better. And he doesn't slop the food on the plates, he arranges it.'
The commissaris was nodding and smiling. 'And the girl, another member known to us, has a master's degree in philosophy and is working for a Ph. D. And she flies an airplane. And she had the audacity to buzz a retired banker fishing off his own shore. Ha!'
'She may have killed him too, sir.'
'Oh yes, sergeant. Why? To enable her father to make a profit on the Opdijk house? To help Suzanne be rid of a husband who kept her here against her will? Or just for the hell of it?'
The sergeant grinned.
The commissaris' cane shot out and hit him in the stomach. The sergeant fell, rolled over like a cat, and got back on his feet.
'Well done, sergeant. You haven't wasted your thousand hours on the judo mat. Have you considered Suzanne as a suspect yet?'
De Gier was looking for a position where he would be out of reach of the commissaris' cane and where he wouldn't be standing on ice.
'Sergeant?'
'Yes, sir. She may have pushed her husband, but I don't think she would have touched the others.'
'Do you think she is clever, sergeant?'
'No, sir.'
'I agree with you. But she isn't that stupid either. She is stupid in certain areas only. I am sure she realized that her husband was keeping her here and that his death would release her. But to make me come out here… no. She could have asked my brother. Or perhaps she is a genius too, in her own single-minded, superbly egocentric way. Perhaps she is thinking that I will sell her house at the right price. You see, this death may have nothing to do with the others. She saw the neighbors die and thought about Opdijk joining the party.'
De Gier pondered the proposition.
'Would you arrest your own sister, sir?'
'On United States territory? Certainly not, sergeant. The very idea! Perhaps the sheriff can; but he might need proof. There is no proof, sergeant. And her confession will mean nothing if it isn't supported by circumstantial evidence. If she went up to Opdijk and pushed him and went back into the house, and if nobody saw her… eh?'
The commissaris smiled. 'Let's go on, sergeant. There's the island and there's a hermit on the island. Hermits like to be alone. They don't like noisy people around. Let's see what he looks like.'
They walked down the path, holding their arms free in case of a sudden slip. The commissaris' cane hit frozen clumps of snow, making them roll down to the bay below.
'There's the shed the sheriff mentioned.'
The morning was clear and the snow glittered on the trees and on the pack ice that reached a few hundred feet into the bay. A flat motorboat chugged toward the open ocean, through the narrow channel between the jetty near the shed and the island. The island rose up gently from layers of ledge and great rocks. They could see a rowboat left out on the island's shore. The commissaris waited while de Gier went into the shed and came back with a pistol that had a short gaping tube instead of a barrel. The silence of the bay was so vast that the boat's putter seemed like a line of small dark specks on an immense sheet of white paper. A large black bird came gliding from the island and its croak startled the two men, leaning on the jetty's railing. The raven was clearly interested in the men's presence and circled above their heads, flapping its huge wings, before it suddenly turned and wheeled back toward the island's hill.
'A spy,' de Gier said. 'Here you are, sir. I put a shell in it. That shed is a sort of emergency hut. It has a dinghy with paddles and a first-aid kit and other equipment. Do you want to fire the gun, sir?'
'No, you can handle the gun, sergeant. But wait for the raven to get back. We don't want to startle the bird with a display of fireworks. Let me have a look at that shed first.'
The sergeant waited, weighing the gun in his hand. The commissaris came back. 'Well-organized hut, sergeant. Usually vandals interfere with that type of emergency arrangement, especially if it is provided by the municipality, the enemy. One might expect our gang to monkey with the boat and the pistol and the lines and grapples and so on. But it hasn't. Everything is spick-and-span in there.' He shook his head. 'We must be misinformed, or we have jumped to the wrong conclusions.'
The sergeant pointed at the channel. The powerboat was turning out of sight behind the curve of the cape. 'There's part of the gang now, sir. I think I recognized them. Our friend the fox and Albert. Albert was released from jail today.'
'Really? On their mischievous way, eh? Go on, sergeant, fire away.'
De Gier aimed for a point a hundred feet above the top of the island's hill and pulled the gun's heavy trigger. There was a sharp retort and the flaming projectile whizzed off, slow enough to be followed by the eye. It disintegrated above the hill into a burst of bright green sparks.
The commissaris whistled softly. 'Most impressive, sergeant. So now we wait. If the hermit doesn't want to see us he doesn't have to show himself, but I hope he does. Fascinating, a man living by himself in the midst of nowhere. How big would that island be?'
'Ten acres the sheriff said, sir.'
'Acres? Let's see. We used to measure in acres when I was a child. There was a vegetable garden next door to my father's house and that was supposed to be a half acre. Twenty times that garden; that's quite a sizable area and Jeremy has it all to himself. That must be him now, that black dot coming down the path on the hill, but there's something following him. Can you see what it is? My eyes aren't what they used to be.'
'A dog, sir. A big black dog. And the raven is with him too, flying a little to the side.'
The commissaris peered at the island, screening his eyes with his hand.
'Must be a Doberman pinscher, sir. Nasty dogs.'
'Because we train them to be nasty. Can't blame the dogs, sergeant. Cigar?'
They smoked peacefully while the man on the island pushed his boat off the ice and came rowing toward them. The dog was left behind, the raven hovered above the boat.
'Now what are those spots next to the boat, sergeant?'
The sergeant peered. Two round objects, bobbing on the waves.
'Seals,' the commissaris said when the boat was much closer. 'Must be seals. Silver seals too. They are particularly beautiful. I saw them off the British coast once. And they swim with the boat. Our hermit must be very good with animals. Look at those whiskers on them.'
The seals turned abruptly when the boat stopped some ten feet off the jetty. The man spun the little boat around and leaned on his oars. An ageless man with a smiling face, dressed in a checkered jacket and heavy blue trousers. The face was weathered, a red rough face with a web of wrinkles that tightened around the eyes. A woolen cap had been pushed back on his shiny bald head.
'I'm called Jeremy, gentlemen, and I saw your signal, a green signal so there's no emergency, which is good. There's enough trouble in the world. What can I do for your
'I am Pete Opdijk's brother-in-law, a police officer from the Netherlands, and this is my assistant, Sergeant de Gier. We would like to visit with you.'
'Police officers,' Jeremy said. 'A breed I've tried to steer clear of. Are you here in your official capacity?'
'I am here to take care of my sister, sir. She wishes to return to Holland. The sergeant is temporarily attached to the sheriff's department.'
'You wouldn't have brought a warrant, would you?'
'No, sir.'
Jeremy laughed. There was a glint of strong white teeth between the man's cracked lips. 'Very welL so I can refuse. I won't refuse and I am sorry about your relative's death, although I never knew Opdijk well. I don't know too many people. Please get into my boat, gentlemen, but be careful not to tip her over for it's a cold sea. The seals would try to push us back into the boat, but they'll only manage to push us under again. It's happened to me before,
