plastered up?'
'He showed me just now,' the commissaris's wife said. 'There's a big red gash underneath the bandage, with stitches. Poor Grijpstra. I wish de Gier wouldn't drive so recklessly.'
'I'm fine, sir.' Grijpstra sat down on the bamboo chair that Mrs. Jongs had brought out. 'Hello, Mrs. Jongs. Hello, Carl.'
'I'm mahaking Tuhurtle,' Carl said. 'It's nehever eaheasy.'
'Turtle has a lot of character,' the commissaris said. 'Look at the head, Grijpstra.' Grijpstra gingerly held the little structure, squinting through half glasses that he extracted from his breast pocket with a flourish. 'This is good. What did you use, Carl? Bits of shell on a cork?'
'Carl just broke up a mussel shell,' the commissaris's wife said. 'Clever, eh? Glued all the little pieces together differently. The shiny parts are the inside of the shell and the gleamy eyes are bits of a toffee wrapper he found in the street.'
'Looks just like Turtle's face,' Grijpstra said. 'Better. Turtle can look pretty silly at times, but his head is kind of thoughtful.'
'Carl managed to portray the essence of Turtle's deeper being,' the commissaris said. 'I envy you chaps your artistry. How are your ducks doing, Grijpstra?'
'Yes,' Grijpstra said. 'I went home before I came here. Remembering them from the hospital wasn't so good. I thought I had mucked the ducks up, but there's some promise there, if only I could catch that green background. And if I do, the thing probably still needs work. May I borrow your car, sir?'
'Oh, yes,' the commissaris's wife said to her husband. 'Your car. I forgot to tell you yesterday. Some real strange-looking hulk brought the car back. He was wearing an earring and his lips were made up. He said he found your car near the museum, with the engine still running. Forgot all about that. You and your gallivanting about town all day. You give me bad dreams.'
'I had a dream too,' the commissaris said. 'Something nasty was trying to drown me in a black bath, but I met Carl down there, who was making water sculptures, and Mrs. Jongs…' He looked away. 'Well, never mind Mrs. Jongs.'
'I dreams too,' Mrs. Jongs said, squirting a blue liquid on the windows behind the porch. 'About Bob's lizards. They helps me out. Bob ain't so nice.'
'Wahater scuh… scuhulptures?' Carl asked, picking up the shingle, which kept slipping from his fingers.
The commissaris's wife caressed Carl's hair. 'You're so clever, dear.' She stared at her husband. 'I'm sure you can make water sculptures too.'
'How come State Detection got your car?' Grijpstra asked.
'I was waiting at a traffic light,' the commissaris said, 'and it just wouldn't change. There was a tram standing next to me, so I left my car and hopped into the tram. The State cops must have happened to come along and they found my car. Very kind of them to bring it back.'
'I see,' Grijpstra said.
'And how's the sergeant?' the commissaris asked.
'Home,' Grijpstra said. 'De Gier had his neighbors look after Tabriz and they phoned the hospital to say that Tabriz had been breaking jam jars in the kitchen again, so the sergeant took Nurse home to help him clean up. She has mornings off.'
'Oh dear,' the commissaris said. 'Another intangible. I wanted the sergeant to save his energy.'
'For what?' the commissaris's wife asked. 'For Miss Antoinette? Because Willem isn't doing much? You think the poor thing is getting all overexcited?'
'Don't be flippant, Katrien,' the commissaris said. 'All of us are working on a most serious criminal case right now. I need to fit all factors in, for optimal benefit. This is very tricky, Katrien. De Gier has no business with a nurse right now.'
'With a beautiful black nurse,' his wife said coldly. 'You told me about that attractive nurse.'
'Do you have Miss Antoinette on Fernandus now, sir?' Grijpstra asked. 'Does that work?'
'Too well,' the commissaris said. 'There are complications there that I can't fathom as yet.'
'Poor Jan,' his wife said. 'I'm going in, I have things to do. Would you like to come in too, Mrs. Jongs, and help me with the lunch?'
'I'll pihick the sahalad,' Carl said, 'if Tuhurtle hasn't eaheaten it all.'
'Is the commissaris going anywhere today?' a tall man asked when Grijpstra walked to the Citroen. 'The constable and I are getting bored. We've been here all morning.'
'Have we met?' Grijpstra asked.
'Sorry, Adjutant.' The man pushed himself free of the tree he had been leaning against. 'Sergeant Biersma, State Detection.'
Grijpstra shook Biersma's hand. 'And you know me?'
'We identified you from a photograph in our file,' Biersma said.
'I don't think the commissaris is going out today,' Grijpstra said. 'I'm off on a little job. Why don't you and your constable come with me? Bit of a change. I'll drop you off here again. It shouldn't take long.'
The sergeant whistled. The constable clambered out of the Corvette parked in front of the commissaris's house and stretched his back. 'Damn that car, it's too low for me.' The constable was tall too. 'How are you, Adjutant? The name is Ramsau.'
'We're going with the adjutant, Ramsau,' the sergeant said. 'Can we have lunch, Adjutant? Our treat?'
Grijpstra drove to a small cafiS on the Amstel River, south of the city. They sat on the dock and ate smoked eel on toast. 'Expensive,' Grijpstra said, 'but I don't mind if The Hague is paying. Why are you driving that Corvette? An oversized sportscar from unlimited lazy luxury land? I can spot that vehicle with all my senses switched off.'
'Why not?' Sergeant Biersma asked. 'It's a crazy assignment anyway. Voort doesn't know his hemorrhoids from dirt in a drain. How can we ever follow a chief of detectives with half a century of experience? You know your commissaris got away again yesterday?'
Grijpstra waved the waiter down for more eel. 'Tell me.'
The sergeant explained.
'Hoohoo.' Grijpstra blew toast crumbs over the table. 'Excuse me. Hoohoo.'
Constable Ramsau cleaned his face with a napkin. 'It's not that funny, Adjutant. We couldn't leave the Citroen blocking traffic in a main thoroughfare, and your chief had left his key in, so I drove the car away. Then I was arrested.'
'You shouldn't have left your ID in the hotel,' Sergeant Biersma said.
'You shouldn't have left your ID in the hotel, either,' Constable Ramsau said. 'We had to raise Commissaris Voort to get me out. The local cops thought I was some dumb fag who cruised around in a stolen car.'
'Why would they ever think that?' Grijpstra asked. 'Hoohoo. Excuse me.'
'Yes?' the constable asked, flicking a sliver of eel off his cheek.
'Fashionable these days,' Sergeant Biersma said. 'All our detectives dress up as the wrong type of fags. Yours do too. We met some in town, driving a Camaro.'
'This is very tasty eel,' Grijpstra said. 'I'll have some more. How's your investigation going?'
'It isn't,' Sergeant Biersma said. 'Never thought it would. We're running after the wrong man. Commissaris Voort can't find any hidden wealth your chief would be hiding, and there isn't any, I'm sure. We can't find any Chinese.'
'Ah,' Grijpstra said, taking another plate of eel from the waiter, 'Chinese. What do you want with Chinese?'
'Prove our charge,' Constable Ramsau said. 'The charge is that your chief has been paid off by the Chinese. In your last case, six Chinese got killed and there was heroin everywhere and a Frisian dealer got shot and your team never arrested the killer. So you were paid off, right?'
'Wrong,' Grijpstra said. 'A cop shot the dealer and then the cop fell off a roof. He wasn't even pushed. We don't arrest cops, you guys arrest cops.'
'Don't we ever?' Constable Ramsau said. 'I've worked on a dozen cop cases now and I haven't even touched a suspect yet. We chase the wrong cops. Maybe we should chase our chief.'
'Mr. Wang,' Grijpstra said. 'There's a Chinese for you. He owns a restaurant in Bolsward. The commissaris
