The commissaris listened.
"Why," de Gier asked finally, "didn't you ask me last night what I was doing in Bolsward, sir?"
"Childishness, Sergeant. I wanted to see if I could figure it out myself."
"You were testing me."
"Please, Sergeant."
"You still want to call on the suspect, sir?"
"I'll have to," the commissaris said. "More childishness. Cardozo's prank with the ghost of Scherjoen slipped completely out of control. I had no idea what horrible artwork those two young jokers might be capable of. My legs were shaking when they popped the result on me. I had meant to bring about a slight shock, but the muses of hell must have inspired Cardozo's effort."
De Gier thought. "Mem Scherjoen?"
The commissaris nodded behind the glowing tip of his cigar.
"She wants you to bring her Oppenhuyzen's scalp?"
The commissaris sighed. "If only that were true. I would have refused. No, Sergeant, I promised to help the poor fellow."
De Gier looked at the sky.
"He won't help," the commissaris said. "Direct your prayers at yourself."
"I wouldn't know how to fix this either," de Gier said, and rang the doorbell of the small summer house.
"You really want to bother Sybe?" Mrs. Oppenhuyzen asked. "He's in pain. Isn't it rather late? Are you a policeman too, sir?"
"Yes," the commissaris said, stamping out his cigar.
"Central Detection?"
"No, ma'am, I want to be of help."
Mrs. Oppenhuyzen shook her head. "Well, come in, then." She took them to the sitting room, pointed at the plastic chairs, and went upstairs.
Adjutant Oppenhuyzen came downstairs, fumbling with the cord that closed his housecoat. "Sorry, sir. I'd gone to bed."
"You're not feeling well?"
The adjutant sat down slowly. "It's not too bad now. I took my medicine."
Mrs. Oppenhuyzen sat down. "Offer the guests something," her husband said.
"In a minute." She held his hand. "I want to be with you."
"I know what medicine you're using," the commissaris said. "It'll be unavailable to you from now on."
"Oh." Mrs. Oppenhuyzen squeezed her husband's hand. "Don't say anything, Sybe."
"It's all right," the adjutant said. "They're colleagues."
"Shut up. Please."
"Your husband can say anything he likes," die commis- saris said. "We can't press charges."
"Make some coffee," Oppenhuyzen said. "I'll call you in a moment. I want to discuss something with the gentlemen."
Mrs. Oppenhuyzen began to cry. De Gier jumped up. "I'll go with you, ma'am. I'm good at making coffee."
"No," Mrs. Oppenhuyzen said. The door banged behind her.
"It was you?" the commissaris asked.
"You mean the business with Douwe?"
"You used your service pistol?"
"Let's say I did," the adjutant said. "There's still no proof. I've read the reports. The bullet wasn't found, and the skull had been damaged by fire."
"You burned the body yourself?"
"Yes," the adjutant said. "The Chinese had the dory ready, but they left too little gasoline. The corpse should have disappeared altogether. I went to see Wo Hop, but he didn't have any more gas, and my face was hurting again. I hadn't used my medicine that night, it always makes me slow."
"I see," the commissaris said.
"I botched the job," Oppenhuyzen said. "I didn't know Douwe personally, or I couldn't have done it at all. Not a good man, was he?"
"Rather not," the commissaris said.
"I never accepted any money, sir."
"There is a doctor in Amsterdam," the commissaris said, "who specializes in your disease. You won't believe me, but he's Chinese too. Still a young man, got his Ph. D. in the treatment of neuralgia."
"I've seen all the specialists," Oppenhuyzen said. "I have the incurable variety. When the pain starts up, I go crazy, I'll take anything that's around, but only heroin helps, it plucks the pain away. If only the doctors would prescribe the drug, but they're too worried about addiction."
"Are you addicted?"
"I don't think so," the adjutant said. "A while back, the pain left me for a few weeks and I never even thought of the drug."
The commissaris tore a page out of his notebook and wrote down the name and address of the Chinese doctor. "Give htm a try. Do you have any plans for the future?"
"None," the adjutant said. "You heard what the chief said. Fm on sick leave until I'm old enough to retire. Maybe I'll fix my house up, the house in the city. This one will fall apart if I touch it with a hammer."
"You're not planning to apply for an interview by Central Detection?"
"No," the adjutant said. "I can't be arrested on my confession alone. There's no proof. No witnesses will ever show. The Chinese who brought the boat and the gas died on the dike. And what about my wife? Shouldn't I look after her?"
Mrs. Oppenhuyzen brought the coffee in.
"I told them," the adjutant said. "It's all right."
"He mustn't give himself up," Mrs. Oppenhuyzen said. "That Douwe wanted to bring poison in. It corrupts young people. But it never bothered Sybe. It's good medicine, but it should be strictly controlled."
"I shouldn't have done it," the adjutant said. "There are some who take bribes, but that's no excuse. I've always tried to be honest. I should have talked to the chief. Douwe took a lot of money from Wo Hop to finance a big import from Turkey, but when he brought it in, he sold it to the junkies himself. Hop doesn't like that."
"Wasn't Douwe afraid of Hop?" de Gier asked.
"He thought Hop would be arrested and kicked out of the country, but Hop has good protection."
De Gier rubbed his hands. "Wo Hop."
"You can't touch him," the adjutant said. "If you go after Hop, you'll have to work in high places."
The commissaris rubbed his hands too. "We might give it a try." He looked at his hands. "Are you sure you don't want to talk to Central Detection? If you do, you've done everything that's humanly possible."
"No," Mrs. Oppenhuyzen said.
The commissaris got up. "And do visit that Chinese doctor. You never know. Maybe it'll work out."
"Thank you, sir," Adjutant Oppenhuyzen said.
"You won't go any further?" Mrs. Oppenhuyzen asked.
"I don't have the authority," the commissaris said. "I came as a friend. Thank you for the coffee, ma'am."
\\ 26 /////
" Was everything as expected?" Mr. Wang asked.
The commissaris dabbed his mouth with his napkin. "Yes, certainly, a delicious dish of fried rice, Mr. Wang."
"A cognac?"
"Some tea?" the commissaris asked. "Pot of tea and two cups?"
Wang brought the pot.
"Do sit down," the commissaris said.
"Tea," Mr. Wang said, "to celebrate our meeting. I often celebrate with tea." He sat down, poured the tea, and held up his cup. "I celebrated when two of my children were stillborn, and I celebrated again when two others arrived alive."
"They're doing well?" the commissaris asked.
Wang opened his mouth and pointed at his gleaming teeth. "One is a good dentist."
"And the other?"
"He helps to develop warheads of atomic missiles," Mr. Wang said. "In the United States. A genius, that boy. I had tea with him when he finished his studies, and Til have tea again when his first missile hits a large city."
"Your nephews," the commissaris said, "the young fel- lows that my colleagues arrested here two days ago, will be expelled, after they've done their time in jail."
Wang sipped his tea.
"And if they show up again," the commissaris said, "which may be soon, for they won't be locked up long, you might want to call me." He presented his card. "Phone me at home, I'm usually in at night."
"I stay away from phones,"Wang said.
"Your Dutch is really impeccable," the commissaris said.
The commissaris poured tea. "I was born here, in Joure, we're both Frisians."
Mr. Wang laughed. "We're both Earthmen," Mr. Wang said. "We do have a lot in common. Maybe I will phone you after all. Aren't you the commissaris who's often mentioned in the paper? Will you be arresting my nephews here?"
"I'll catch them at Wo Hop's," the commissaris said. "By the way, about Mr. Wo Hop…"
Mr. Wang shook his small, smiling head.
"No?" the commissaris asked. "Would I be overreaching myself?"
"Yes," Mr. Wang said.
"A pity," the commissaris said. "And to think that I'm fighting on the side of Good."
"Maybe that's why."
The commissaris looked about him. Mr. Wang pointed out a green dragon that had been painted on the wall above the bar. The dragon was nuzzling his own tail.
"That's Wo Hop," Mr. Wang said. "Give him time. He'll eat himself."
"He's rather a long beast," the commissaris said. "And he hasn't even taken his first bite."
"Soon," Mr. Wang said.
"Westerners aren't known for the exercise of patience," the commissaris said. "What would you advise me to do in the meantime?"
"Drink lots of tea," Mr. Wang said. He got up and walked to the bar. He came back with a can. On the can, a picture had been painted showing a turning wheel. At the center a cock, a pig, and a snake were turning spokes.
"My present to you," Mr. Wang said. "There's good tea in the can. Patience tea. You can accept the present. It's worth only a few guilders, and you did rid me of the nephews."
The commissaris studied the picture. "The wheel of life," Mr. Wang said, "moving because of the powers of pride, greed, and mean behavior."
"Will it turn forever?"
"It'll break by itself," Mr. Wang said. "Won't take long now."
The commissaris paid the check.
Mr. Wang walked him to the door.
\\ 27 /////
It was snowing. The Commissarislooked out his window. He was rubbing his leg. De Gier stood next to him. "Slithering-about weather," the commissaris said. "Pluggedup-noses weather. We'll have a whole winter of it again. Thaw, quick freezes, mud, I don't feel like putting up with it again. Cheer me up, Sergeant."
"Hylkje?" de Gier asked. "Do you remember the young lady?"
"Yes." The commissaris smiled. "Such a lovely woman, and that huge motorcycle, the Frisian adventure, Sergeant. Some of our better hours."
"She was here for the weekend, sir."
"Aha," the commissaris said. "I'm glad to hear that. You'd better look into that aspect of your life, Rinus. Soon you'll be old and you'll be complaining. She might want to listen to your complaints."
"I can't visualize that," de Gier said. "She can, but I never see it."
"Take her to New Guinea," the commissaris said, "in a flat-bottomed sailboat. Share your great adventure. I waited too long, but you could replace me."
"She told me about Adjutant Oppenhuyzen," de Gier said. "He's cured of his disease. Do you remember the Chinese doctor that you said he should visit?"
"No?" the commissaris asked. "True? That's great. I'm very pleased. I thought that might work out. The doctor is supposed to be brilliant. He was recommended by my medical friends when I was looking into the possible source of the pain in Adjutant Oppenhuyzen's cheeks."
"Yes, sir. It seems that the adjutant had a chronic infection of the jaw, of which the neuralgia was symptomatic. Symptomatic neuralgia can be cured if the infection is taken away. The doctor had Oppenhuyzen's teeth pulled, then he scraped his jawbones and prescribed antibiotics. The neuralgic pains didn't come back."
"Then he can fix up his house," the commissaris said.
De Gier scratched his bottom.
"That's an irritating habit you have there," the commissaris said. "What's up now?"
De Gier looked out the window.
"You want the adjutant to be punished?" the commissaris asked. "You're not playing guardian angel, are you now?"
"A man commits murder," de Gier said. "We've all agreed that's bad. We've made up laws to punish murder. We've appointed hooligans like me to catch murderers. So why is murder suddenly all right?"
"We've also agreed," the commissaris said, "that we will not convict a man on his own confession if there's no proof that he committed the crime. Cops don't run around catching cops-that's another agreement we made."
"You could have turned the hounds of Central Detection loose, sir."
"Hmm," the commissaris said.
"So where will this all end?"
"In a bad place," the commissaris said.
"I don't see that, sir."
"You see what you see, Sergeant." The commissaris dropped into his desk chair and made it turn all the way around. "And what does the adjutant see, when he shaves his painless cheeks every morning, the good adjutant?"
"He sees a killer," De Gier said. "Can he live with the killer?"
"He'll kill him, I think," the commissaris said.
\\ 28 /////
De Gier admired the fresh young leaves of elm trees, on the other side of the window. Grijpstra leafed through a file of recent reports. "Spring," de Gier said. "Unbelievable, but it's here. The winter died. Spring will be dying too. Everything does go away after a while, you noticed that, Adjutant?"
"Wo Hop went away," Grijpstra said. "Read this."
De Gier read "'Hop, Wo, born in Singapore…' blah, blah, hm, '…found lifeless on the pavement of Prince Henry Quay…' hm,'… six bullets in chest…' hm, twenty-two-caliber again, Magnum, right." He turned the page. "Ah, here. 'According to witnesses, Wo Hop was approached by two young male Chinese, dressed in sports shirts, caps…' hm."
"A professional job," Grijpstra said. "Shoot the mark down and keep walking quietly, around the corner, gone. We'll never catch them. They were flown in for the contract and immediately afterward raced out of the country. Probably left from Frankfurt or a French airport. They'll be home in Hong Kong by now."
"And who'll take over Wo Hop's Triad?"
"That we'll know soon enough," Grijpstra said.
"Your Chinese is weak," de Gier said.
"I'll pick it up," Grijpstra said. "Frisian was easy enough. Morning, Jane." Grijpstra got up. "The most beautiful cop on the force." He sat down again.
"I don't like that," Jane said. "I'll be complaining about you. You're committing sexual harassment. I am no more than a female colleague, very intelligent too, and I wish to be treated as such. Your flirtatious attitude insults me."
"You're so right," de Gier said. "What did you do with your hair?"
Jane turned around. "You like it better this way?"
"It makes you look mysterious," de Gier said.
Grypstra began to cough. "You smoke too much," Jane said. "You're polluting our air. I stopped yesterday, but if I have to breathe your smoke, I might as well smoke myself."
"Cigarette?" de Gier asked.
"Just one," Jane said. She lit his with her lighter. "Did you read the morning paper?"
"Not yet."
She came back with the paper. "Weren't you in Friesland last year? Here, read for yourself. A fatal accident, a colleague was the victim."
Grijpstra grabbed the paper from her hands. "Not Hylkje. Stupid girl. Always speeding."
"Not a woman," Jane said.
Grijpstra read aloud: "'Adjutant Sybe Oppenhuyzen, Municipal Police, Leeuwarden,'-that's him-'temporarily on sick leave'-temporarily, ha!-*died because of an accident yesterday.' Ah, I see what the journalist is trying to say, the asshole."
"They're always trying to show us up," Jane said. "That adjutant was on sick leave but he was healthy enough to work on his roof, and he slipped and fell. Hello, Cardozo."
Cardozo placed a shoe box on Grijpstra's desk. "You'll never guess what I have in here, Jane." He carefully lifted the lid with one finger. Jane bent down. Cardozo pulled the string that dangled on his side of the
box. A rat's skeleton jumped out of the box. The rat rattled. Jane ran from the room.
"Haha," Cardozo laughed. "Good joke, eh? Samuel's friend and I made this. Remember Eddy? We buried him and dug him up again. The skeleton was in perfect condition."
Grypstra and de Gier, who had embraced each other, let go.
"I heard him rattle," de Gier squeaked.
Cardozo produced a tape recorder from his pocket.
"Get out," Grypstra shouted. 'Take that mess with you."
"Don't come back today," de Gier shouted.
The commissaris came in. Cardozo replaced the box on Grypstra's desk. "Watch this, sir."
The commissaris jumped into de Gier's arms.
"Good joke, don't you think?" Cardozo asked. "We worked on it for hours. Very tricky, to hinge all the skeleton's parts. Did you hear the rattle?"
The commissaris's shaking finger pointed at the door.
Cardozo walked toward the corridor.
'Take the box, Constable," the commissaris said loudly.
Cardozo came back and picked up the box.
"You weren't really frightened, were you, sir?" de Gier asked.
"Just testing Cardozo," the commissaris said, lighting a cigar at the wrong end. "Always keep them in suspense. He thought I wouldn't be frightened, so I pretended I was. That'll teach him a lesson."
"I don't quite follow you," Grypstra said.
"I do," de Gier said. "Cardozo is much too sure of himself. He needs doubt. The commissaris provides doubt."
"Of course," Grypstra said. "Very subtle, sir. You could have fooled me. You're a perfect actor."
"You two drive me crazy," the commissaris said.
He stalked out of the room.
"Your hero," Grijpstra said.
De Gier closed his eyes. "He has so much to teach."
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-b1776b-9494-7d43-db9f-2b49-9fb1-d8f105
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 13.06.2011
Created using: Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
Document authors :
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
The Rattle-Rat ac-10 Page 27
