'Engine not too noisy?'
'No.'
'… was a goddess, a naked goddess. The goddess was happy too.'
'Good,' Grijpstra said.
Ishmael's smile was crafty. 'Kripstra, would you like to know who that honey-skinned long-legged raven- haired tumbly-titted goddess might have been?'
'Not Aki,' Grijpstra said. 'Not even when you say so. Okay?'
Ishmael patted Grijpstra's shoulder. 'Just trying to make a point, Krip.' He winked. 'To myself maybe. I don't like to take sides. There aren't any, you know.'
They flew home, Ishmael quietly, Grijpstra pensively for a while. To cheer himself Grijpstra watched for gasoline bubbles on the windscreen but the fuel pump worked fine now. They saw Ishmael's home on the way to Jameson's airstrip: the four-storied canning factory, no longer working, close to the Point at the tip of the peninsula. They also saw Kathy Two, stuffing around a small weathered cabin on Bar Island.
'Looking for Lorraine,' Ishmael said. The dog was standing up against the cabin's door.
'You know what twirling is?' Ishmael asked. He demonstrated the term, first making the plane gain height, then switching off the engine and twisting the Tailorcraft down. 'Like a leaf in autumn?' Ishmael asked. 'You like that?'
Grijpstra's eyes were closed but he heard Kathy Two bark furiously.
'It's like Lorraine is still alive,' Ishmael said. 'Like Kathy Two is disappointed that her friend isn't home.'
Grijpstra groaned from an increasing depth of bottomless fear.
'If Lorraine,' Ishmael was saying from a considerable distance, 'were not alive, as you seem to think-since who were we looking for all morning, eh, Mister Detective?- Mrs. Farnsworth wouldn't bark, no sir, that dog would howl '
Grijpstra howled. The Tailorcraft was close to the water when Ishmael started the engine up again. The little plane straightened out easily and skimmed waves. 'It's okay when there are waves,' Ishmael said. 'With waves you can see the surface. I lost a plane once when the water was still. You're supposed to buzz the water with your propeller, to see where it is so you won't hit it, but I hadn't learned that yet. The plane broke up when it dived and turned over.
'And you?'
'I broke my neck,' Ishmael said, 'but they can fix that now. They couldn't fix the plane, though.'
Chapter 14
'No,' Nellie said, half awake. 'You've got his number? Shall I give it to you? Or are you out of quarters again? Shall I ask him to phone you? I don't want to do this anymore. I keep forgetting the questions. Are you all right? HenkieLuwie, come back quickly now, stay away from that woman.'
Grijpstra, leaning against Beth's Diner's wall, next to the pay phone, looked at Jameson Harbor. The fishing fleet was out. Macho Bandido, impeccable again, sails twirled and sheathed, tugged gently at its mooring. Bildah Farnsworth was on board, tipping back a shot glass, smacking his lips, swallowing, shivering, smiling. Hairy Harry, naked down to his gleaming bare belly button, was tearing off the top of another beer fresh from the cooler, watching rivulets of condensation run down the can's sides, pouring down foamy frothy cold
… outdoing the commercials, Grijpstra thought. Grijpstra wanted to join Hairy Harry, have a beer himself, merge good and evil, go boating on the bay, tell jokes, laugh with his new friend, take Aki along, two charming and intelligent Akis-or three, one for Bildah too. Why all this animosity? Share a lovely planet in an unlimited universe, enjoy the short stay.
The pay phone rang. 'Yessir,' Grijpstra said, 'did you just go to bed? Sorry to wake you up, sir.'
'Adjutant,' the commissaris said sleepily. 'Oh, I beg your pardon, Henk, I mean, uh…'
'It's okay, sir,' Grijpstra said. 'You've been directing the case, I gather. How are your legs? I could have asked Nellie to phone you later but she hung up. Your legs bothering you, sir?'
'No,' the commissaris said, 'in fact, I'm planning to have a look at the Maine coast myself, but… no, please, Katrien, go back to bed. Sorry, Adjutant…'
'Yessir. Any suggestions, sir?'
'Well, I'm sure you're doing an excellent job. I wish I could.. . no, please, Katrien, nobody is going anywhere yet… Oh dear, now what have I done? Suggestions, Adjutant?'
'Yessir. Questions. Anything I should be doing now since I still can't find the body?'
'You're looking for the grave?'
'Maybe there isn't a grave,' Grijpstra said. 'Flash and Bad George don't strike me as too efficient.'
'They did save your life, though.'
'That was the dog.'
'The famous dog.' The commissaris chuckled. 'Yes, I heard that.'
'You had me taped, didn't you, sir?'
'Uh… yes… Katrien bought the machine, a recording gadget that clips to Nellie's phone. Very clear, Ad-Henk, wonderful what this new audio equipment can do. So, you think Flash and friend threw Lorraine's body overboard?'
'If it was Lorraine's body, sir.'
'Good,' the commissaris said. 'That's good. You ascertained that another woman was missing?'
'Yes.'
'Who?'
'I read all the recent newspapers kept at Beth's Diner, asked some questions. A sixteen-year-old reputedly ran away from abusive parents in Jameson, sir, but that missing person is overweight, with fat feet, sir.'
'The corpse de Gier saw didn't have fat feet?'
'Slender feet, sir.'
'But de Gier was incapable at the time.'
'I think he did notice the feet on the body.'
'So you believe he saw the dead body of a blond-haired woman with slender feet?'
'Yessir.'
'Well, now,' the commissaris said cheerfully. 'De Gier wouldn't kick a pregnant woman. Is he still drinking now?'
'He says he will never drink again.'
'Keep you company,' the commissaris said. 'He might not miss it. I've been cutting back myself. Drop of brandy with the coffee. So de Gier is not violent now, is he?'
'No, sir.'
'And was he violent before the woman got hurt?'
'Yes,' Grijpstra said.
' What? Are you sure, Adju-Henk? You mean to tell me that Rinus was habitually and physically abusing a girlfriend while under the influence of alcohol and/or drugs?'
'There was an incident involving firewood, sir. There's a big fireplace in the pagoda. When de Gier came here the nights were still cold. April, sir. Spring doesn't come until June. Firewood had been brought to Squid Island, cut and split, high-quality hardwood. Flash and Bad George do that sort of thing: caretaking. The firewood was nicely stacked. Sorted by size and color, an artistic job. They must have been paid by the hour…'
'Don't tell me de Gier destroyed that beautiful firewood stack?'
'I'm afraid he did, sir. He kicked about half of it down the rocks. Got frustrated, he said, and the firewood was just sitting there.'
'Did suspect tell you voluntarily?'
'No, sir. I was walking around the island and noticed the split logs lying on the beach so I reconstructed what must have happened.'
