The commissaris held out his cup. Miss Antoinette poured from the silver thermos flask. Their heads came close. 'You mean up to the hairline, sir?'
The commissaris dropped his cup. 'Miss Antoinette!'
She brought a sponge and cleaned up his desk.
'Really, Miss Antoinette, what a disgusting thing to say.'
'I shocked you,' Miss Antoinette said triumphantly. 'Weren't you trying to shock me?'
The commissaris cleared his throat.
'You were,' Miss Antoinette said, 'but we have equality now. Women can be disgusting too. I've been practicing. I've thought of the most horrid things to say. You want to hear some?'
'No.' The commissaris carefully checked his cup for cracks.
Miss Antoinette put her hands on her hips. 'Maybe I'd like to be a whore sometimes. Whores have a lot of fun. Just a few evenings a week. Beats watching boring television.'
'But, Miss Antoinette…'
'Yes? Here you are, sir, please don't drop your cup again.'
'But you're beautiful,' the commissaris said. 'We all hunger after you, you don't have to watch TV by yourself.'
'You too, sir?'
The commissaris raised a protesting hand. 'I don't watch TV.'
'No, hunger after me?'
'Ah, well…'
'So?'
'Well…' the commissaris said. 'A figure of speech. I'm an old man, dear.'
'And unavailable. I would love to watch TV with you.' Miss Antoinette noisily blew her nose.
'Dear?' the commissaris asked softly.
'Yes,' she said through her handkerchief, 'I know I'm blushing. So you don't watch TV and you have a lovely wife.'
'Sergeant de Gier hungers too,' the commissaris said.
The phone rang. Miss Antoinette picked it up. 'Yes?' She handed it over. 'The chief constable, sir.'
'Right,' the commissaris said into the phone. 'I'll be over in a minute.'
'You're in trouble,' Miss Antoinette said when the commissaris broke the connection. 'He phoned before. There are rumors all over the building. I didn't want to tell you before you had your coffee.'
The commissaris rubbed his hands.
'You like trouble, don't you?' Miss Antoinette asked.
'This sort of trouble I can deal with,' the commissaris said.
'You can't deal with mine?'
He was about to walk past her, but turned and gently held her arm. 'No, dear. I'm sorry. I've never understood women very well. You wouldn't really like to work in Fernandus's palace? Did you say that to annoy me?'
'Yes.' She was ready to dive behind her handkerchief again.
The commissaris hesitated, then wandered off to the door. She walked ahead and held it open for him. 'Good luck, sir.'
He shook his head. 'No. Maybe I want bad luck. Things have to turn against me now, dear. Maybe it'll be the only way I can work this.'
Her hand touched his. 'Well, then, I wish you bad luck, sir.'
'Yes… yes. Thank you, dear.' He tried to forget the uncomfortable interlude with Miss Antoinette as he painfully climbed the steps, choosing discomfort rather than the elevator's speed. He needed a little time to reflect. Did he know now what he was up to, or was he allowing subconscious urges to decide his course of action? He was shaking his head as he entered the chief constable's room.
'There you are,' the chief constable said. 'Good. I was just beginning to worry. Please meet a colleague, Commissaris Voort of Central Detection's head office in The Hague, who has been looking forward to meeting you.' The commissaris shook hands with a wide-chested man who bent over him. Voort wore a blue blazer and light gray slacks. A golden clip fastened his necktie to a spotless white shirt. The commissaris noted that the clip was shaped like an anchor. 'How-dedo,' Voort rumbled. The commissaris mumbled his response, 'Vrawah,' meaning, possibly, 'very well.'
'Now then,' the chief constable said. 'How about some coffee first? No? In that case, let's come straight to the point.'
'Corruption,' rumbled Voort. 'Rumors. Unpleasant. Start straight at the top, called in by the mayor. You've heard, I'm sure.'
'Flattered,' the commissaris said. 'Very. I'm the top now? You've already dealt with the chief constable here?'
'No,' the chief constable said. 'I'm of no interest to Paul Voort.'
Voort nodded invitingly at the commissaris. 'Paul.'
'Aha,' the commissaris said. He looked at the chief constable. 'No interest in your doings, or non-doings, perhaps?'
The chief constable shook his head, trying to hold on to his welcoming smile. 'No, you see, I've only been recently transferred to Amsterdam, but you've served here all your life. A formality, of course. We all have to play the game, isn't that right, Paul?'
'Absolutely, Henri,' Commissaris Voort rumbled.
'I see.' The commissaris nodded helpfully. He began to get up. 'Well, we met. Good luck with your investigation. I have some work to do.'
'No.' Voort put both his hands up, palms toward the commissaris. 'No. Sorry, old chap. Got to do this properly, you know? Full reports and whatnot.' He thought. 'And so forth. The whole caboodle. You're off duty for a while. Bit of a holiday.' He closed his eyes and chuckled.
'Is something funny?' the commissaris asked.
'In a way,' the chief constable said. 'We all have to play the game. In your case, it shouldn't take more than a week or so. The first part of the investigation' -he looked at Voort-'is financial, am I right?'
Voort nodded briskly. 'Absolutely, that's the proper procedure, I always like to work this way. I have some pointed questions here.' He brought out a notebook and poised his ballpoint. 'Income?'
The commissaris mentioned a figure.
Voort wrote it down, then crossed it out. 'Impossible, you should earn at least double that.'
'Twelve times my monthly check,' the commissaris said.
Voort nodded and wrote. 'All right, you were deducting taxation.'
'Half my income is taxed away?' The commissaris shook his head. 'Incredible, doesn't leave much, does it now?'
'You do have a free car,' Voort said accusingly. 'What's it worth?'
The commissaris shook his head. 'The car is mine. The car the police bought had to be repaired after my recent investigations up north. I had some criticism from the administration about costs, so I replaced it at my own expense.'
'Hah,' Voort said, noting the fact down. 'A new Citroen, I believe. You paid cash? Where did you get the cash?'
'I wrote a check,' the commissaris said.
'You can prove that?' Voort raised an eyebrow. 'The car wasn't a present?'
'Maybe my wife paid for the car,' the commissaris said. 'I don't remember now. Yes, perhaps she did. She has savings. Always investing in this and that. Likes to dabble in the stock market, Katrien does. Very clever, I'm always amazed. Wait a minute.' He scratched his nose. 'I may have used my own check after all, I can sign on both accounts. She too, of course. Or did Katrien pay now? Because I paid for her fur coat two years ago? Why do you ask?'
'This is no good,' Voort said, crossing out what he had written so far.
The commissaris smiled. 'Shall we try your next question?'
