against the wall of glass and had to be pried loose by Grijpstra.

'I'm sorry, Mr. Tamminga,' the commissaris said, 'that we had to bring you in for this, but…'

'Douwe is in hell,' Tyark said, 'with a rat. I should have known.'

'Why, Mr. Tamminga?'

'But I didn't want to know,' Tyark said. 'I never like to think about things like that. When they die, they're still somewhere. I'll be too, one day.'

'In hell?' Grupstra asked. 'What did you do that you deserve hell?'

Tyark shook his head.

'Do tell,' the commissaris said. 'Something bad?'

'Yes,' Tyark said. 'I'm rude to my farmhand. And Ushe's dog, he kept stealing and losing my clogs. I shot him for that, but that's years ago.'

'Ushe is your wife?'

'Yes,' Tyark said. 'That's where I'll go, to hell, with a rat.'

Tyark left for Friesland.

Yelte Pryk wasn't grateful for Douwe's gift, either, but he kept minding his manners. Yelte raised his hand to greet Douwe. The hand touched Eddy's tail. Yelte stumbled and groped about the room, illuminated by the spotlights.

'I'm sorry, Mr. Pryk,' the commissaris said, 'that we had you come all the way from Friesland…'

'Douwe pulled me out of the moat,' Yelte said.

The commissaris nodded.

Very nice of Douwe, Yelte said. You can be most mistaken in judging others. Yelte's van had slid off the dike, and Douwe happened to come along and pulled him out. Douwe burned out his clutch, and Yelte had expected to be asked to pay, but Douwe never mentioned the expense.

'So you rather liked Douwe?' the commissaris asked.

Yelte wouldn't go as far as that. Some honesty must be held on to. But Douwe in hell, with rats, that was a bit much. Poor Douwe.

Yelte was sent home.

The commissaris went down to fetch Mem Scherjoen. He opened the door of the room and waved her in.

'Douwe?' Mem asked softly.

Douwe offered Eddy.

Mem was about to accept the rat when her arms dropped down. 'It'll be all right,' Mem whispered. 'Wait for me, dear. I'll be along and I'll get you out. We'll start all over.'

Douwe tried to give her the rat again.

Mem turned away.

'I'm sorry, Mrs. Scherjoen,' the commissaris said.

'We'll be together again,' Mem said. 'Douwe'Il have to learn. I'll never give up. I'll always be with him. I wish I could help the other one, too.'

'Which other one, Mem?'

'Douwe's killer,' Mem said. 'He's having a hard time now. And he's alive, maybe that's worse. Can't you make it easier for him, a little?'

'As long as he won't come forward,' the commissaris said, 'I may have to wait.'

'You might go to see him.'

'Yes,' the commissaris said. 'I'll be doing that soon. Did you come by train? Shall I give you a ride back?'

'That would be nice.' Mem touched the commissaris's arm. 'You didn't really frighten me. I dream about Douwe, and he does look strange now, very much like what you just showed me in that room. No peace for Douwe yet. Once I can take care of the retarded people, things should get better.'

'They will,' the commissaris said.

'And if you help the other one, we'll all be doing what we can.'

'Absolutely,' the commissaris said. 'I'll start working on that at once.'

\\ 25 /////

De Gier let go of his book, swung his legs off the couch, and grinned at Grypstra and Cardozo.

'Dinnertime,' Grypstra said. 'Cardozo is hungry too.'

De Gier covered his eyes with both hands.

'Food!' Grypstra shouted.

'Food?' Cardozo whined.

De Gier was back on the couch. 'I'm so slow. Why didn't I understand?'

'Go on,' Grypstra said. 'Serve dinner. We worked all day. We've been looking forward to dinner all the way up the dike.'

'Of course,' de Gier said. He held up the book. 'This woman, who calls herself Martha, also wants to kill her men, and at times she does it, too. All her stories have the same basic subject, and I kept wondering what could be at the bottom of all her troubles.'

'No sole,' Grypstra said. 'No noodles with tomato stew, no mussel soup. Not the same thing over and over again. An Eastern dish this time, I thought.'

'With a hot sauce,' Cardozo said. 'We earned a good meal. We were at it again all day while you were sitting on your butt.'

'And this Martha,' de Gier said, Is considerably more intelligent than all the men she's married to in her tales, but because they only make her slave, her intelligence hardly shows. The men fart around and then they show up at home and force her to do heavy work, and whatever she comes up with isn't good enough. She has no chance of ever accomplishing anything, so she doesn't, and they aren't pleased and yell at her.'

The doorbell rang. De Gier threw the book down and went to the corridor.

'Evening,' the commissaris said. 'I had a hard day. I'm sure you prepared a tasty meal. You can bring me a drink first. Why do you look so sleepy? Have you been napping all day again? The house is a mess.'

'But it wasn't Mem,' de Gier said. 'If I had finished Martha's stories earlier on, I might have accused Mem. These Marthas don't really kill their husbands, they escape into fantasizing. In the future they just might kill us, but under present conditions they still depend on us. Or they think they do, which comes down to the same thing. Poor souls.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' the commissaris said from the recliner, 'and frankly I don't care. Can I have that drink?'

'No drinks,' de Gier said. 'No dinner. The stores are closed. Anyone care for a Chinese meal?'

Cardozo shuddered.

'Nothing Chinese for poor Cardozo,' the commissaris said. 'He might be reminded. Whip something up, Sergeant, it's the very least you can do.'

'The kitchen is cleaned out, sir. I thought the case was all wrapped up.'

'You can't know that,' the commissaris said.

'De Gier has been working on the sly,' Grypstra said. 'I suspected that from the beginning. Against my strict orders. He's had all sorts of help, too. Hylkje couldn't do enough for him. The sergeant has been slithering in and out of the local scene and has kept all available information for himself.'

'You mean you still don't know?' de Gier asked.

'I want dinner,' Grijpstra said.

'And you?' de Gier asked Cardozo. 'You're still after your sheep-buying sheik? What was his name? Hussain bin Allah?'

'I want dinner too,' Cardozo said.

'My treat,' the commissaris said. 'At the first place we find, but it can't take long, for I still have to go

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