of commercial interest. What else can be observed? The bizarre aspects of the murder? Why did the killer go to so much trouble once the opponent was destroyed? Would an older lady like Mem Scherjoen drag her husband's corpse through winding alleys? Does mere loss of cash provoke sadistic hatred? Are we right in paying so much attention to three rustic types who smoke pipes under chestnut trees after their work is done? Let's have your opinion, Sergeant.'
De Gier shrugged in defense.
The commissaris looked at Hylkje. 'Would Frisians be likely to misbehave in such a flagrant manner? Why the urge to totally destroy the enemy? How do you see your own people? As noble, straight, honest, industrious, moral, God-fearing?'
'Oh, yes, sir.'
'There's much clear light here,' the commissaris said, 'so the shadows will be dark. Darkness is part of our being. The part that we hide in shame is always active too.'
Hylkje supported her chin with clasped hands. Her long eyelashes protected her staring eyes. 'You put things so well.'
'Well…' the commissaris said shyly.
'And then?'
'Darkness,' the commissaris said, 'is tolerated in Amsterdam. Tolerance makes evil show itself. Once our bad sides can be seen, we may learn to live with them, up to a point. I postulate that Frisians tend to hide their shadows. When the shameful aspect is masked and repressed, we may expect considerable tension. Our evil will do everything to break out of our discipline, and then, suddenly…'
Hylkje looked at de Gier. He placed empty cups on a tray. His shoulder muscles bulged easily under the thin cotton of his tight shirt, which tapered down to his narrow waist. His long, supple fingers grasped the ear of a teacup tenderly. As he carried the tray away, his arm brushed past Hylkje's hair.
'I see what you mean,' Hylkje said. 'The pushed-down immoral desire will have to break free, and if you hold it down too long, because there's no opportunity to let it go, or you're just too busy-well, I really wouldn't know what sort of terrible explosions could possibly take place.'
'Exactly,' the commissaris said, 'and that's why I suspect that here, in this most moral and clearly healthy Frisian mindscape, the causes can be found that led to the horror in the Amsterdam Inner Harbor. Scherjoen was abusing his fellow Frisians. I hear he provided loans against unbearable interest. We can add that sin to his other misdeeds. Who can fathom Mem's continuous suffering? Desperate mothers at her door, dragging starved kids? And her husband to blame?' The commissaris got up. 'I need a phone.'
Grijpstra took him to the other room.
'What will you be doing tomorrow?' Hylkje asked de Gier.
'I want to visit the market.'
'The cattle market? It starts at five A.M.'
'I'm getting older,' de Gier said. 'Older men need less sleep.'
'You can sleep late for another week,' Cardozo said. 'Bald Ary and Fritz with the Tuft aren't supposed to attack until a week from Friday.'
'And our side will be exercising,' Hylkje said. 'The Municipal Police are to set up a command post. State Police will bring in communications gear. There'll be technicians from The Hague. Students from the Police School will be blocking the roads.'
Grijpstra had come back. 'You don't want to be in the way of all those good people, Sergeant.'
'Please,' de Gier said. 'I'm an interested tourist. Couleur locale. I've never had a chance to visit this picturesque province before. And maybe I can find some food. A sheep may be crushed, or I'll find a lost piglet. I have some recipes for stew.'
Smiling, the commissaris came back into the room. 'Mem Scherjoen does have a dear voice. It's all agreed. Tomorrow afternoon we'll search her house, and in the morning I'll be visiting her sister in Amsterdam. A certain Miss Terpstra.' He checked his watch. 'My wife is expecting me. Are you coming, Cardozo? I'll drop you off at home, and maybe I can talk to your brother about his bike.'
'I'll drive ahead in my Deux Chevaux,' Hylkje said, 'so that you won't miss the dike, and then I'll come back here.'
De Gier washed up. Grijpstra checked on Eddy. He reported to the kitchen. 'Rattling again. Doesn't seem well. I'll try some more cheese.'
Hylkje came back. De Gier opened the door. 'Come upstairs for a moment.'
'Won't it be better at my apartment?' Hylkje asked. 'We won't be bothering the adjutant, and I don't have flowered wallpaper. Counting the roses may distract.'
'Don't be so singleminded.' De Gier led the way.
Eddy was rattling in the sawdust of his terrarium.
'Too warm here, maybe?' Hylkje asked. 'Shall I open a window?'
'Won't eat any more cheese,' Grijpstra said, gently scratching the rat's head.
'This is no good,' de Gier said.'We're supposed to look after the little chap. He might be dying on us, and we'll get all the blame. I'll phone the Oppenhuyzens.'
'Sorry to bother you, ma'am,' de Gier said into the phone. 'I know it's late, but your rat is unwell.'
'He rattles,' de Gier said.
'No, it's worse than that, and he's just lying about. Could you come and fetch him, do you think?'
'Yes, ma'am. I'll let you know.'
He put the phone down. 'She says Eddy's a comedian. He'll be all right in the morning. Needs attention and rest' De Gier stretched. 'Who doesn't?'
'Come along,' Hylkje said. 'You need attention too.'
De Gier yawned. 'Ran about on that island a lot. I'm not used to the fatigues of nature.'
'I'll wake you up in time for the market,' Hylkje said. 'Coffee and a croissant.'
Grijpstra lumbered off. De Gier stood there thinking. Hylkje rose up on her toes and put her arms around his neck. 'You heard what the commissaris said. If I keep repressing my evil longings, something horrible might happen.'
'I'm not a Frisian,' de Gier said. 'You'll be disappointed.'
Hylkje smiled softly. 'I do like the commissaris. I just read a novel about an old gentleman who was picked up in a bar by a starving young woman. He took her home and kept being polite and he never hurt her and took care of all her needs.'
'The commissaris is happily married,' de Gier said. 'When that sort of thing comes up, I usually replace him.'
'That girl was rather forward,' Hylkje whispered. 'Do you think I am too?'
'You?' de Gier asked. 'I've approached you in every way I know of, and you still haven't given in.'
'Enough stalling,' Hylkje said, and pulled him to the door. 'You come with me.'
\\ 17 /////
Corporal H. Hilarius cried that night, and not because Sergeant R. De Gier hadn't performed as well as could be expected. Hylkje, after pushing Durk the rabbit off the bed, wept-de Gier thought he could describe the steady flow of tears as weeping-because she didn't have to pretend that she was tough. She said so herself.
Durk bounced about the floor, dropping neat round turds, while de Gier watched.
'And you're so well-mannered.' Hylkje said that, too.
'Me?' de Gier asked. 'Have you gone out of your mind? Wasn't I manly, dominating, hard as steel?'
'You were,' Hylkje sobbed, 'but that's something else, you did a good job, and at your age.'
'You wouldn't mind if I slept a little now?' de Gier asked. 'I'm just a trifle tired.'
'And you're a good cook,' Hylkje sobbed. 'And you don't have a temper and there's nothing about you that puts me off. I like you better than Durk. Can't we stay together forever?'
De Gier slipped away and woke up in the office of a bank. He was signing mortgage papers, at interest that
