'A lesbian affair?' Cardozo asked. 'Do they have that here too? It's quite popular nowadays, understandably so. If I were a woman, I would go after women too.'
The commissaris was quietly thoughtful.
'You disapprove of normal abnormalities, sir?'
'I watched it once,' the commissaris said. 'In Paris, an age ago. Most interesting. But that Anne is a man.'
'Homosexual?' Cardozo asked, shocked. 'No wonder that lieutenant is about to demolish his house. A homosexual raping his wife, in his very own cupboard.'
'No, no,' the commissaris said. 'And the fellow supposedly looks like me. Are you trying to upset me, Cardozo?'
'/'m upset,' Cardozo said. 'I still can't understand why the Chinese cycling behind me would invite the Chinese cycling toward me to have themselves shot.'
'Themselves?'
'The behind-me Chinese, sir.'
'Oh, those Chinese,' the commissaris said. Chinese,' the commissaris said. 'Because, no, that was different, someone else again, another Chinese, must have heard the behind-you Chinese plan their trip on the dike, and passed that information to the toward-you Chinese.'
'Right,' Cardozo said doubtfully.
'Are you pretending to be that stupid,' the commissaris said, 'or are you trying to prove that I've underestimated you for the last few years? The Chinese have nothing to do with us. You shouldn't have been on the dike. If I hadn't thought of phoning your mother, I wouldn't even have known that you were trying to peel apples on the dike. That conceited attitude of yours, Cardozo, I don't know whether I like it.'
'I'm doing everything wrong,' Cardozo said. 'Uncle Ezra wants me to take over his market stall, but I don't feel like doing that either. I don't feel like doing anything at all.'
'Feelings will change,** the commissaris said. 'Where is this Scheijoen house? Didn't Gyske say we couldn't miss it?'
'It's beautiful out here,' Cardozo said. 'The soft, lush shades of summer, the flowering bushes.'
'This would be quite a simple case,' the commissaris said, If Mrs. Scherjoen would confess.'
'No houses here,' Cardozo said. 'The emptiness of the past. I feel rather empty myself, I'm quite hollow inside, even my cold is gone. Maybe I'm about to disappear.'
'Mem is Frisian,' the commissaris said. 'Perhaps she thinks that what she did is justified. The way society views the law doesn't equate with the individual's attitude, lake Mem Scherjoen, for instance. We see her as a dear rustic old lady and she probably is, but just how far can such a sweet soul be pushed?'
'I see where you're going,' Cardozo said, 'but you want to push her into murder? If it were simple manslaughter, violence of the moment-but this was thought out, and executed without mercy.'
'Listen here, Cardozo. Continuous abuse, twenty, thirty years of torture…' He looked around him. 'I think we should go back, this path is a dead end.'
They walked back. 'It has taken me a while,' the commissaris said, 'to see clearly how potentially dangerous marriage can be. Applied boredom, nonsensical pursuits, may wear down the sharp points, but if the togetherness started with passionate love, passionate hatred may easily result. And you're right too, Douwe's end was obviously premeditated. No emotion that suddenly flared up, no unprepared attack that may make the killer feel sorry later. Whoever commits murder in cold blood will be able to forestall our investigation in some sly and clever manner. No, a simple confession is probably out of the question.'
'We're back at the Sudemas' house,' Cardozo said. 'Shall I ask for more precise directions?'
'Don't trouble those poor people now,' the commissaris said. 'We'll take the car. It can't be far. Just down that road* Mrs. Sudema said.'
'The proof,' the commissaris said in the car. 'That might be another hassle. What happened to the weapon? The Inner Harbor is a mess, our divers won't easily find it in there. Witnesses? I don't think there were any. If Mem persists in protesting her innocence, we can't even trick her. She's Frisian, Cardozo, you have no idea how self- willed we Frisians can be. I was born in Joure.'
'So you won't give up.'
'Never.'
'And Mem Scherjoen won't give in.'
'Never.'
'I heard a Frisian joke once,' Cardozo said. 'Two Frisian coachmen travel from opposite directions toward a bridge that's only wide enough for one carriage. On the bridge they stop, facing each other. One coachman unfolds a newspaper and begins to read. After an hour the other coachman asks if he can have half the paper. The first coachman gives him half his paper. The second coachman begins to read too.'
'Yes?' the commissaris asked.
'How do you mean?'
'So what happens then?'
'They're now both reading the paper,' Cardozo said. 'Nothing more happens.'
'How did we manage to reach the freeway?' the commissaris asked. 'And why do all those signs point away from Dingjum?'
A State Police Land Rover stopped behind the Citroen.
'Now where do you chaps come from?' the commissaris asked.
'Where would you like to go?' the sergeant asked. 'Just tell us and we'll drive ahead. We just heard about you over our radio.'
'Heard what?'
'A silver Citroen and a disabled but mobile Volkswagen. Call for assistance to colleagues from abroad who are constantly getting lost.'
'I suppose,' the commissaris said, 'your headquarters considers us to be retarded.'
'Not used to the ways of a country foreign to your own,' the sergeant said. 'Doesn't that sound better?'
'The mansion of Mr. and Mrs. Scherjoen, Dingjum,' Car* dozo said.
The Land Rover drove off.
'Some learn a little slower than others,' the sergeant said to die corporal riding with him.
'These may never learn,' the corporal said.
\\ 14 /////
De Gier, dropped off that morning, with his cases of tomatoes, at the Military Police barracks, shook Private Sudema's hand.
'I telephoned just now,' de Gier said. 'Here's a present. Tomatoes, ripe and fresh, a gift from your uncle.'
Private Sudema was taller than his uncle, and broader in the shoulders. His blue eyes sparkled in the sun. 'Morning, Sergeant.'
'Shall I help you carry this load in?'
'Not necessary,' Private Sudema said. Other policemen marched about in the yard, giants topped by gleaming hats above white braid draped across their muscular shoulders and torsos, musclemen in black tailored jackets with folded-back lapels, showing off starched white shirts and collars and faultlessly arranged blue scarves.
'Assistance!' bellowed Private Sudema.
A still younger man turned sharply, marched up, stopped smartly, and stood to attention. 'These cases,' Private Sudema barked, 'have to be taken to the kitchen.'
The other policeman bent his knees, stacked all four cases, picked up the lowest, and stretched his legs. He marched away at speed. 'One, two,' shouted Private Sudema.
