'Really?' the commissaris asked politely.
The sheriff grinned. He started the cruiser and reversed a few feet to get the sun out of his eyes. He switched the engine off. The cruiser was parked in the dip of a path leading to the Wash mansion. It was out of sight of the house, but close enough. No more than two thousand feet from the front porch. The sheriff settled back and adjusted the volume of his radio.
'So?' Janet asked. 'You've heard all I have to say. Isn't it time you took yourself away?'
'You also tried to kill Jeremy,' the commissaris said. 'And this time you made the effort yourself. Wasn't Reggie available that day?'
De Gier was also in the sun, but he couldn't move out of its glaring light. The sergeant was perched on a rock behind the mansion's back porch. He had to be careful to stay out of Janet's sight-and out of Reggie's sight. He hadn't seen Reggie when he'd left the sheriff's cruiser and made his way through the cedar bushes along die shore. He had heard Reggie. The man was splitting wood somewhere close by. He couldn't hear him now.
'Reggie,' Janet said. 'Certainly he was available.'
'Didn't he try, Mrs. Wash?'
Janet sat up a little straighter. 'Yes, once. He made it to the island but was stopped by the dogs. Jeremy let him go. Our hermit can be a perfect idiot at times. He hasn't even learned from his animals. Animals kill what they catch.'
'I see. But why did you say that Reggie was driving your car when the accident happened? You were at the wheel, weren't you? Suzanne saw you.'
'Suzanne!' Janet waved the name away as if it were an insect. 'I said Reggie was at the wheel because Reggie should have been at the wheel. But Reggie still minks of excuses whenever I mention Jeremy. I believe Reggie likes the man.' She laughed shortly. 'But Reggie will listen to me. I am not giving in. Not to you either. You know that now, don't you?'
The commissaris muttered his agreement. 'Indeed. How did you manage to find such a good man, Mrs. Wash?'
Janet giggled. 'Through a magazine. One of the day laborers once left a magazine and I looked through it. It was called The Mercenary, and it was filled with stories about tough men and what they had done in the wars and what they were doing now in private armies, serving sheiks and princes in out-of-the-way places. There were some advertisements too, and one of them caught my attention. It went something like mis: Vietnam veteran. Light weapons and unarmed combat. Guerrilla operations specialist. Officer rank. Interested in country work of any description. Serious offers only. Details. Reggie. And a telephone number. I telephoned, we had a nice chat, and he flew in the next day. He has never left.'
The sheriff was still listening. De Gier wasn't. He had moved to the edge of his rock when he heard the snow crackle and he was crouching down near his radio, although there was little point in being furtive. Reggie was only a few yards away, on the next rock.
'Hello,' Reggie said.
'Hello.'
'Listening to the radio, are you? Who is she talking to? To your friend the commissioner?'
'She is.'
'She is talking a lot, isn't she? Your friend is very clever. But you are not. You are in my way, sergeant.'
De Gier got up and slipped out of his heavy coat. 'Can I choose my own accident?'
'No. The others couldn't either. Your body will go into the bay, and it will stay in the bay.'
De Gier flexed his muscles and controlled his breathing. Reggie wasn't armed. 'Do a good job this time, Reggie. Mary Brewer's corpse was found. So was her boat. You've been careless with the evidence.'
Reggie grinned. 'You're a fool, sergeant. I gave you fair warning when I shot the tail off your hat. I should have shot you in the chest, but Janet told me to be subtle. She should have listened to me. It doesn't do to be subtle with woodchucks.'
Reggie jumped and de Gier fell over sideways, extending a leg for the big man to trip over. Reggie fell but rolled over and came again.
'Madam,' the commissaris pleaded. 'I do advise you to take my proposition seriously. You can still save yourself a lot of really bad trouble.'
He leaned a little further forward and his cane slipped out of the rug. He pulled it back with too much force, and the handle came up and knocked the microphone from under his lapel. The microphone fell and dangled on its cord. Janet stared at it. Then she stopped staring, got up slowly^ and snatched. The commissaris thought she aimed for the microphone and brought up a defensive hand. But Janet had grabbed his cane and raised it.
'Help!' the commissaris said quietly.
'Shit,' the sheriff said. He started the cruiser and moved his automatic shift. The rear wheels of the cruiser spun on the ice in the dip of the path. 'SHIT!' the sheriff shouted and got out of the car and began to run toward the house.
When Reggie came again de Gier was more careful. He had left his rock and jumped down onto the ledge, where the beach met the bay. Reggie rushed straight at the sergeant, pretending to aim for his chest but brought up his hand at the last moment, with two stiff fingers pointed at de Gier's eyes. De Gier moved his head, grabbed Reggie's sleeves, and pushed him to the side, pivoting Reggie's body on his own leg. The sergeant's flat hand came down as Reggie slipped off his leg. The hand crushed Reggie's nose. De Gier stepped back. Reggie fell but jumped up and came again. His punch made contact, but the sergeant veered with it and grabbed Reggie's wrist. The sergeant didn't use the restraint he had been taught by his instructors. His fingers pressed on, and Reggie's wrist snapped back and broke. Reggie staggered back until his heels found some support against the rock. He pushed himself off the rock with his good arm and kicked. De Gier swayed slightly, waited for Reggie's foot to reach the top of its curve, caught the foot and pushed it up. Reggie's other foot slipped on the ice and he smashed back against the rock, hitting it with the back of his skull. He crumpled and slid down. Reggie's eyes broke as de Gier bent down to peer into his face.
De Gier ran too. He reached the porch when the sheriff reached the front door. They found the commissaris behind one of the woodstoves, legs wide apart, ready to jump one way or another. Janet was on the other side of the stove, brandishing the cane. The commissaris had lost his glasses, and he bled from a cut on his cheek.
The sergeant grabbed the cane and twisted it out of Janet's hand. Janet screamed and went on screaming until the sheriff slapped her face. The sheriff pushed her roughly into a chair. De Gier picked up the commissaris' glasses and gave them to his chief. 'Sorry, sir. Reggie found me on the beach and we fought. I killed him.'
'You killed him?' Janet screamed. The sheriff raised his hand. 'Shut up.'
Janet's eyes opened wide and closed. 'Little men,' she mumbled. 'Little men. Reggie was right. They are like woodchucks, tunneling and prying. Destroying what others try to build. How can we kill them all when there are so many? Reggie got some, but there are too many left. And only me on this side. Only me.'
She began to cry.
'I killed him,' de Gier said quietly to a potted palm. 'I've never killed a man before.'
The commissaris limped to the sergeant, leaning on his stick. He put a hand on de Gier's sleeve.
'Rinus.'
De Gier's eyes had closed. He turned toward the commissaris, but his legs were giving way. His hands grabbed the palm and pulled it to the floor. His knees buckled and he fell with the palm.
22
De Gier had been asleep, but a squirrel gliding down the steep roof had waked him up, and he now struggled to stay awake. An almost unnaturally white light was streaming through a small pane of glass set in the whitewashed ceiling, and sharp shadows played on the wall at the foot of the bed. A branch of a pine danced slowly on the plaster, each needle exactly silhouetted. The squirrel came back, its tiny feet pattering and scratching on the frozen snow. The night was so quiet that he could hear its silence. The sergeant's stomach glowed, and his skin was pleasantly warm and alive.
'Ah…' This was very good indeed. His whispered exclamation faded away in the large room.
