‘A good comrade,’ Meanbeard adds.
‘Another policeman was there and frothing at the mouth. He’s the one who found this Clement fellow.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Eduard, I think… I don’t know him.’
‘Oh, that’s probably the Finger. Eduard Vingerhoets. Something birdlike about him? Long pointy nose, small head?’
‘That’s him.’
‘I’ve known the Finger for years. Another true comrade. Before the war we were in a lot of protests together. If you’re in the police you always have to be a bit careful with politics, of course. Great admirer of Mussolini—we always made fun of him for that. You have to be honest with each other, even if you’re on the same side philosophically, and surely that Italian windbag is comical more than anything else. Compare someone like that to the Führer, not just in terms of character, but also Weltanschauung. You feel where the true radicalism lies, don’t you? Now, I must say the Finger has never been fond of Jews. Il Duce’s prone to beat around the bush on that score, but the Finger, never. He wants them all dead and the sooner the better.’
‘Why do they call him the Finger? Just because of his surname?’
‘That too, but there was an incident in a bar with some floozy or other… Ah, I’m not in the mood for salacious stories.’
He sighs and shrugs. His spirits are low. Gaspar the parrot died unexpectedly and his mother is not recovering well from an unfortunate fall down the stairs. Meanbeard has to do the shopping all of a sudden, along with the household chores. He says he has to read to her every day too, much to his annoyance.
‘You know anyone who’d like to earn a little on the side? Your girl perhaps? What’s her name again?’
‘Yvette…’
‘Even some cooking would help, a little cleaning… That would make life a bit easier for me. I’d like to suggest she keep my mother company with a book now and then, but knowing my mother, she won’t accept anyone but me for that.’ He sounds a little guilty. Or is that my imagination?
‘Yvette knows how to get along with people.’
‘That’s a good start… Would you do me a favour and…’
‘I’ll let you know this weekend.’
‘Ooph, it’s only just Monday. I don’t know if… But fine, I’ll be patient.’
‘So this Clement Bruynooghe was a friend of yours?’
‘It’s hard to believe… The cowards killed him like a dog. It’s provocation. They’re trying to intimidate us. But we’re ready. We’re prepared.’
‘Who are “they”?’
Meanbeard lights his pipe. ‘Listen to Mr Silver Buttons here. You really are growing in your role as a policeman.’ He shakes the match to put it out and rubs his thighs. ‘Not the Jews in any case. They’re shitting themselves. They’re not that mad, everyone knows that.’
‘Apparently a few of them have been picked up.’
‘Of course. But I’d bet my life it was the work of a Bolshevik. One of those bastards in the resistance. Strange they use that name. In this Europe we’re the frigging resistance.’
‘But why?’
Meanbeard looks at me in surprise for a moment, then starts laughing. ‘Jeune homme…’
‘What?’
‘What do you think yourself? You saw with your own eyes how your fellow policeman, the Finger, reacted? Clement was one of us. He worked for the Sicherheitsdienst.’
‘I mean, why would anyone risk their life for that? There’s no point.’
‘A comrade is killed like a dog on the street and you start wondering what the point is? You think everyone always uses their common sense. I’m going to tell you something, my friend. These are challenging times, times in which everyone’s inner self is revealed. It’s like a striptease, and common sense is an article of clothing like any other. It gets peeled off and dropped on the floor with the rest. That’s all there is to it. In this town everyone knows everything about everyone else. They know who’s going along with the Germans. Admittedly, it’s not that difficult to find out. Only you seem to be lagging behind. You seem to be in the dark about almost everything. But it works the other way round too, doesn’t it? I can easily name a few blokes who could have blown Clement’s brains out. The Jews they picked up are gone for good, but we know where to find the real culprits. The fools didn’t stop to think about that.’
‘If you have strong suspicions you can always—’
‘What? Surely you’re not going to tell me to report it to your piss-in-the-wind police station. You’re not all there, are you? Just because you pull on a uniform now and then, you don’t have to go along with the boundless self-importance of your paymasters. Reporting something is the very last thing any of us would do. An eye for an eye, dead simple. One phone call and it’s done. But that’s another thing I’m not altogether in favour of. Not when it’s Clement. Shooting a wonderful fellow like that in the back, by God! That’s personal. That feels like losing a brother. The only retaliation for cowardice like that is getting your own hands dirty. Hey, why are you sitting there grinning like an idiot?’
‘Come on, don’t be like that.’
He stands up abruptly. ‘You don’t know me well enough. Not me and not my comrades.
It’s time that changed.’ It’s May and the sun is shining, but Meanbeard’s mother doesn’t want
