\\ 3 /////
' But, dear,' the Commissaris said, shaking his phone. 'Dear?'
The telephone said nothing.
'Are you still there?'
'I am,' his wife said, 'and so are the Belgian endives. You ordered them, remember? You absolutely had to eat baked Belgian endives tonight. Any idea about the price of Belgian endives?'
'We could eat them tomorrow,' the commissaris said.
'Tonight. Once they're out of the freezer, they can't go back.'
The commissaris looked for support in the glowing end of his cigar, and in the begonia flowers on the windowsills; he also glanced at the encouraging smiles on the lions' heads above his chair. He stood next to his desk and tried to skip airily onto its top. He didn't jump high enough and knocked his hip. 'Ouch.'
'Did you hurt yourself?'
'And to think,' the commissaris said, 'that I was once a prizewinning gymnast. I flywheeled around the bar, and then swung onto the mat, and bowed, and straightened up to my full athletic length again, and didn't the audience applaud?'
'Does it still hurt?'
'No,' the commissaris said, 'but I do have to go to Friesland, really. It only takes two hours to drive there. A compatriot was shot there-can't have that, you know. I've got to find out what's what.'
'You're coming home for dinner. Send Grijpstra.'
'He's got something else to do, too.'
'Send somebody' his wife said. 'I'm hanging up now. You'll be home at seven. I'm not bending over a hot stove all day for nothing.'
The telephone clicked. The commissaris sighed. He extended a small finger and dialed two numbers. 'Dear?'
'Sir?'
'Have Grijpstra called. He should phone me.' The commissaris waited. The phone was quiet. 'Dear?'
'Sir?'
'Is that understood?'
'You didn't finish your request.'
'My request is quite finished.'
'No,' the soft female voice said. 'You never said 'please/ so I'm still waiting, as is customary these modern days.'
'What are you?' the commissaris asked. 'A communist? A feminist? I gave you an order. I don't have to say 'please.''
'I'm not your slave.'
'Please,' the commissaris said, 'dear.'
'Thank you,' the secretary said. 'I won't insist that you call me 'miss.''
'Is that so?' the commissaris asked. 'The new rule allows for exceptions?'
'I think you're a dear, too,' the soft voice said. The telephone clicked.
The commissaris watered his begonias, while reflecting. They were right, he thought in between his reflections. They were abused, yelled at, repressed, underpaid, and overworked. It had to come to an end, but why today? Today he wanted to go to Friesland. He looked out the window. A splendid day. And today he had his new car, he hadn't even driven the miracle yet, the silver car, delivered to Headquarters' yard only that morning, now gleaming in the sunlight. To take that car to the Great Dike, to make it whiz along twenty straight miles. How pleasurable that drive would be.
The telephone rang.
'Grijpstra here,' the phone said. 'The teeth belong to Douwe Scherjoen from Dingjum, so that subject is the corpse.'
'Where are you now?'
'In a cafe sir.'
'And de Gier?'
'I've just met him here.'
'Go to Ding-whatever,' the commissaris said. 'There'll be State Police out there. Let them know you're around. It's our case, but they might give us a hand. You know where Ding-whatever is?'
'Not yet, sir.'
'You might hurry a little,' the commissaris said, 'and you might take de Gier for company. Is that understood?'
The telephone was quiet.
'Are you still there, Adjutant?'
'Our car is malfunctioning,' Grijpstra said.
'What's wrong with it now?'
'It's mainly the clutch, sir,' Grijpstra said. 'It's got a click in it, and the second gear seems to have gone altogether, and the exhaust isn't attached properly-it sort of bangs about-and the brake doesn't brake.'
The commissaris sighed.
'Sir?'
'In the lot here,' the commissaris said, 'you'll find a new silver Citroen. Brand-new, Adjutant. Don't let de Gier drive it. You can come here and take my new car.'
'But you haven't even driven it yet, sir.'
'The key'll be with the doorman,' the commissaris said shrilly. 'I'll tell him it's all right. I'll be ringing off now, Adjutant. I'll back you from here.'
'Upset, was he?' de Gier asked.
'He seemed a little unhappy,' Grijpstra said. 'Rheumatism in the legs again, perhaps.'
'Did he complain about pains?'
'No, but he sounded that way.'
'As long as he doesn't retire ahead of time,' de Gier said. 'We musn't strain him.'
'We're supposed to be in a hurry now,' Grypstra said, 'and the Volkswagen has to be fixed. Maybe it can still get back to Headquarters. There's a lot the matter with it these days. You think it can still be repaired?'
'What do you mean?' de Gier asked. 'Our trusted steed?'
'The garage sergeant keeps wanting to throw the car away.'
'Never,' de Gier said. 'I'll have Jane work on the fellow again.'
'Jane doesn't want to know you anymore.'
'She shares our duties.'
'You're asking too much from Jane,' Grijpstra said, 'and you give her too little. You've got to entertain that girl in town first, and then try to get her to your apartment. Not the other way around. And don't make her pay for the entertainment.'
'The pathetic whiner hasn't been crying on your shoulder, has she?'
'Whiner?' Grijpstra asked threateningly. 'You didn't really use that expression, did you?'
'Pathetic female,' de Gier said, 'and she didn't even fall for my proposition. She never went to my apartment and she never bought me dinner. It was raining that day. My apartment is nice and dry. It was the end of the month. I was short on money.'
De Gier was allowed to pay for the coffee. Grijpstra left the cafe and waited in the car. De Gier scowled as he got into the Volkswagen. 'Listen,' Grijpstra said, 'if we want to keep this car, you have to be nice to Jane. You have to change your egocentric attitude-before we take off to Dingjum.'
'I've no idea where that could be.'
'I'll try to find out, while you prepare Jane for the garage sergeant's perverted desires. Is that understood?'
