Voort turned a page. 'Mortgage. Do you have your house mortgaged?'
The commissaris's smile widened. 'You'll have to ask Katrien. The house is in her name. You see, that's because of my affairs.'
'Affairs?' Voort asked loudly. 'With women, you mean? Other women?'
'I could explain,' the commissaris said.
'Please.' Voort narrowed his eyes. 'Please do.'
'I could have affairs,' the commissaris said. 'My wife and I discussed that possibility many years ago. If I had these possible affairs, she would ask me to leave the house. I can't be asked to leave my own house, so I had the title transferred to her name.' The commissaris crossed his legs and studied his well-polished shoe, which moved jerkily at knee height. 'Of course, she could have affairs too, in which case I would not ask her to leave the house. Hmmm.' He studied his shoe again, as if its rhythmical half-turns surprised him. 'Couldn't ask her to leave her own house. Don't you find the ramifications within the concept of marriage complicated, Mr… uh
…'
'Voort,' Voort rumbled. 'Paul, to you, if you like. I don't bother with marriage anymore.'
The commissaris's pale blue eyes concentrated on the copper buttons of Voort's blazer. He suddenly slapped his forehead. 'Paul Voort, the yachtsman, how silly of me! You have this wealthy lady friend who keeps you in boats. Won a prize crossing the Channel, didn't you? And you lost it again because of foul play? What a shame. Poor fellow.'
The chief constable spoke loudly. 'Now, please.'
'Just read it in the paper,' the commissaris said to Voort. 'I'm not professionally interested. You'd have to commit murder for that, and in Amsterdam, of course.' He smiled. 'You can operate nationwide? How very convenient for you.'
'Let's get back to what we're supposed to be doing here,' the chief constable said, waving at Voort, who showed signs of wanting to say something. 'So you don't have affairs.'
'No,' the commissaris said. 'But I could, maybe. You know what men are like, especially when they are a little older. How old are you now?'
The chief constable shrugged impatiently. 'My age is not under discussion here.'
The commissaris adjusted his glasses and peered intently at the chief constable's face. 'Early fifties, I would say. That's when we lose confidence, but we gain it at the same time, if we do well in our careers. I know I was sorely tempted at your age. I was thinking, 'Suppose this beautiful blonde photo model comes along, in a Porsche. ..' ' He took his spectacles off and pointed them at the chief constable. 'You like Porsches, don't you?'
'Just another type of car,' the chief constable said.
'Don't know that for sure,' the commissaris said. 'No, there's perhaps a special glamour there. To me, the Porsche has a female shape. Now suppose that type of car is driven by a luscious human female and I could ask her to ride me around town, do a few night spots, show her off a bit. Say she admits to a tendency to love older, powerful men-and we are powerful in a way, highly placed police officers do wield a certain clout-yes, I might be tempted. Wouldn't you?'
'Excuse me,' Voort said.
'You're excused.' The commissaris waved invitingly. 'Next question, please.'
'Has your house been remodeled?' Voort asked in a threatening bass voice.
'Oh boy,' the commissaris said. 'Oh boy. You got me there. I do believe it was. Windows painted, ceilings fixed up, water pipes ripped out of the walls and replaced, a new porch in the back. Katrien thought I didn't notice.'
'But you paid for the repairs?'
'Not that I know of.' The commissaris replaced his spectacles, taking his time. 'No, sir. It was meant as a surprise, you see, so I think I was only supposed to notice when the job was done. Bills would surprise me ahead of time. But there won't be any bills, I'm sure.'
'Because someone is presenting you with surprises?' Voort rumbled.
'I think it's Katrien again,' the commissaris said, 'paying in cash. You know that all-well, let's say most- workers in the building trades are unemployed these days. So they're on welfare. Welfare doesn't pay for their cars and other necessities. So they work anyway, for cash. You don't deal with these problems in The Hague?'
'But where does your wife get the cash?'
'I wonder,' the commissaris said. 'She has private investments, as I said. You could ask her. Can you ask her?'
'I certainly can,' Voort said, peering at his notebook.
'Yes, but does she have to answer?' The commissaris shook his head. 'I'm in murder myself, and you're now investigating fraud, but I rather think the same rules apply. You need a serious suspicion. Wouldn't you have to convince a public prosecutor first? You might possibly need some proof before I could be ordered to show my private papers. It isn't as if Katrien and I are flaunting our vast wealth. I do think I could afford to buy a car and have my house remodeled on my after-tax salary-once in a good while, of course, and it has been a while since I spent money on such necessities. And Katrien, well, she did inherit a bit from her parents. Only daughter, you know. Let's have the next question.'
'Second house,' Voort rumbled.
'Yes,' the commissaris said, 'I own a vacation home.'
'Where?'
'Suppose I won't tell you,' the commissaris said. 'Do I have to tell you?'
Voort poked his pen at a gold-capped front tooth.
'I don't have to tell you,' the commissaris said. 'Same thing again. You need a serious suspicion, then you can drag me to a judge. If I still refuse, you could charge me with hiding evidence. This is a game, isn't it?' He looked at the chief constable. 'You said that just now. Let's see if State Detection can locate my summer cottage. Might not be so easy. Houses are registered by town. There are a lot of towns in the country.' The commissaris rearranged his legs and examined his other shoe. 'I could give you a clue. It isn't really a house, it's more like a small trailer, or rather it was when I last saw it. I haven't been there for a while. Katrien wants to sell it. You could ask Katrien, of course, but there we go again-she doesn't have to answer you. May I use the phone?'
The chief constable pushed his phone across the desk.
The commissaris dialed, waited, and then spoke. 'Katrien? Listen, this is fun. There's a colleague from Central Detection here who has all these questions. About how much money we have, and so forth. It's all a game. Like they play in The Hague. Government games? You've heard of those?… What's that?' The commissaris looked at Voort. 'No, he isn't nasty, just nosy, you might say, but I say that we don't have to answer his questions… You agree?… Good. Yes. I will be careful, dearest. Even if it's a game. Good-bye.' He put the phone down. 'So I'm off duty for a while?'
'With pay,' the chief constable said. 'Like an extra holiday, but I thought you might not like that. If you cooperate with the investigation, your discomfort won't last too long.'
'Oh, I don't know,' the commissaris said. 'I daresay I could find something to do with my spare time. Something useful, even.' He clapped his hands. 'Yes.'
'You're not being helpful,' Voort rumbled. 'Not at all. I'm still prepared to work in a friendly way.'
'No, no,' the commissaris said. 'I insist. Each game has its rules. Let's pretend we're sworn enemies, colleague. I'll be as tricky as I can be. Dodge your questions, trip you up where I can, and, of course, I expect the same from you. Let's play cops-and-cops. Cops-and-robbers I know by now, but this variation is new to me. Let's match wits.' He pushed himself out of his chair. 'You must excuse me. I'm off duty now. May I still spend time in my office, or is that out too?'
'I would like you to be within reach,' Voort said.
'I'll be around,' the commissaris said. 'I might be home from time to time. Give me a ring whenever you like.'
The chief constable walked to the door. 'Please. I didn't expect this sort of behavior from you. Do be serious.'
The commissaris frowned. 'I'll try. That's part of the game? We pretend the investigation matters?'
'There are penalties,' Voort rumbled.
'Such as?' The commissaris stood opposite Voort's seat.
