'I wouldn't mind having your baby,' Hylkje said. 'A stupid fat baby, with shrimpy toes and a big mustache.'
'Fat?' de Gier said, raising his head. 'Grypstra is fat. You'll have to change direction.'
'All babies I dream about are fat,' Hylkje said. 'Don't you want a baby?'
'Sure,' de Gier said. 'But this planet is too small. It's uncomfortable here. I hadn't planned on coming myself, but something went wrong again. If I cause babies, they'll grow up and blame me. 'Why, Dad?' What will I say?'
'I can explain it to them,' Hylkje said. 'I'll get them little motorcycles, they'll have a good time.'
'Can I borrow your car when we're back in Leeuwarden?' de Gier asked. 'I want to go to Bolsward.'
'Why?'
'I never really know why,' de Gier said. 'Whenever I think I have the answer, it's the answer to the wrong question. Just let me go to Bolsward. I won't be long. You'll have your car back before you go to work.'
'It's some distance, you must be tired.' She parked the car. 'Stay here with me.'
'It can't be far,' de Gier said. 'That's what I like about this country; everything is just around the corner. You talk about wide spaces, but they're highly illusory. Just a few square kilometers and a few ponds here and there.'
'Yes, you're much bigger than me,' Hylkje shouted. 'You're a gigantic Dutchman and I'm a provincial dwarf. Get back to your real world below the dike, to your filthy whores. Leave me alone.' She jumped out of the car.
''Bye, Hylkje.' The Deux Chevaux swung away. Its noisy engine drowned Hylkje's screams.
\\ 23 /////
The Chief Constable was about to get into his car. 'Hello, Mr. Lasius of Burmania,' the commissaris said. 'I came to report on our inquiry, about how we're doing-or not doing, to put it correctly.'
'Hello,' the chief constable said. 'Care to join me? I'm off to the pub. I'll be doing something useful later on, but there's some time to fill pleasantly.' He checked his watch. 'About an hour.'
The commissaris made himself comfortable in the new Volvo. 'Some good action tonight?'
'Unfortunately.' The chief constable frowned. 'Internal trouble that's beginning to stink up the outside. A rotten apple in my basket.'
'A colleague?' the commissaris asked. 'What's the nature of the charge?'
'Not really a charge,' the chief constable said, 'although if there were one, it might be called corruption. Caused by loving kindness, one might say, but even so, we can't have that in the police. We're not the Salvation Army. What do you think?'
The commissaris looked fierce.
'In Amsterdam, of course, you are more tolerant,' the chief constable said.
They left the car and crossed the square. 'Such delightful peace,' the commissaris said. 'Such architectural beauty.' He waved at the quietly impressive buildings. 'A simple style, but majestic all the same. Rather amazing to find that in a province.'
'I wouldn't call Friesland a province,' the chief constable said. 'It's more like a state.'
'Why not?' the commissaris said. 'That explains the stately buildings. You're right, of course. I was bora in this state, in Joure.'
'The boss himself,' Doris said, and bowed. He moved quickly from behind his counter and brought a barstool. 'Sit down, sir. The little gent is your guest?'
'He is, Doris,' the chief constable said.
Doris brought up another stool. Cold beer foamed in tall glasses.
'To Friesland,' the commissaris said.
'To Friesland,' all the customers said loudly, too loudly, perhaps. The sudden silence was broken by the commissaris.
'My murder,' the commissaris said.
'You still haven't got a clue,' the chief constable said. 'I know. Your theories are off. They'll be off for as long as you hang around here, but please stay if you like. We'll be as helpful as we can be. Haven't we been helpful? You must have noticed.'
'Let me tell you about my murder,' the commissaris said.
The chief constable lit the commissaris's cigar. 'One of my men stumbled, I don't like to see that. I'll talk about it a little, maybe it'll relieve my feelings. Adjutant Oppenhuyzen, you've heard the name?'
'The kind colleague who lent his house to my detectives?'
'The very man,' the chief constable said. 'He's in charge of our Aliens Department. A good man at heart. But he's gone too far.'
'Where did he go?' the commissaris asked.
'Two more, Doris,' the chief constable said. 'Oppen-huyzen can't say I didn't warn him. I don't mind Chinese, they have to be around too. I saw an exhibition of Chinese art a while ago, and I can't say I was not impressed.'
'I like Taoism,' the commissaris said. 'That's Chinese too. It's about nothing. It says that nothing matters. That nothing has always been, will be forever, that our activity leads nowhere, that we never have to do more than nothing, that while we do nothing, nothing will be rediscovered. That's Chinese, I like that.'
'Their cooking is good too,' the chief constable said. 'Mrs. Oppenhuyzen can't cook-I had dinner once at her house-perhaps that's why the adjutant is so fond of Chinese. But whatever his reason may be, his activity is unacceptable.'
The commissaris's eyes didn't focus.
'Whatever my adjutant's motivation,' the chief constable said, 'I can't accept his supplying illegal aliens with papers. Complaints are reaching me from everywhere. Unsavory individuals cannot be sent out of the country because of my adjutant's good deeds. I'll just have to stop him.'
'Tonight?' the commissaris asked.
'I had Oppenhuyzen followed,' the chief constable said. 'He'll be in Bolsward now, with his friend Wang, a restaurant owner. Wang is a fine old man, born and bred in Friesland, but you know how the Chinese work, they abuse their residents here, through their infamous Triads. Wang will be a member too, or he'll lose his venerable head. Tough types. We just had that battle on the dike.'
'Gang warfare,' the commissaris said. 'Without survivors. Not a bad thing in itself, self-inflicted extermination, but does it have to happen here? While I am watching?' The commissaris blew ashes off his sleeve. 'I found the sight somewhat upsetting.'
'I couldn't agree more,' the chief constable said. 'All Oppenhuyzen's fault.'
'The adjutant is handing out resident papers in Bolsward?'
'For the very last time,' the chief constable said. 'Doris, I'll have my check. I'll be meeting my men at headquarters now. We'll be taking four cars and a bus. All suspects to be arrested, and Oppenhuyzen on indefinite leave.'
'The more elegant solution,' the commissaris said. 'We don't want an inquiry by Central Detection. That's really endless trouble. It gets into the papers, too. I've been through that. My wife didn't like it, either.'
'You'll be losing your way again,' the chief constable said. 'Would you like me to get someone to direct you? Anything at all, just specify your request.'
'I'll be going with you to Bolsward,' the commissaris said.
The Volvo, lead car of the convoy, sped through the quiet night. The chief constable handled the wheel in silence. His noble profile expressed powerful activity. He concentrated on the job ahead.
'I'm not saying,' the commissaris said, 'that my method is in any way scientific, but we do develop intuition in our line of work, and everything else having failed, I've allowed myself to listen to the inner voice. Not entirely without reason, as you may safely assume. Do I really overreact if I find a connection between Scherjoen's death and his native soil? The man's existence in Friesland was blackened by evil. I haven't been able to interview anyone who had a good word for Douwe. If I keep stumbling along in my chosen direction, I just have to trip over the
