The Streetbird

by Janwillem Van De Wetering

"Dear guests," Lennie said when he had greeted Grijpstra and de Gier. "I am grateful that you're willing to amuse yourselves here. Another round, Henri. Let us raise our glasses to the trouble that does not exist."

  "Prosit, Lennie," said Slanozzel.

  De Gier smiled over his glass. A man like that should be squeezed, de Gier thought, so that we can do away with half our administration. But how to catch the slimy toad? That girl over there, with the nude left buttock and the nude right breast, is a minor, but if I dare to state that fact, she will immediately turn twenty-one, with a battery of lawyers supporting the falsified figure. If we find drugs here, we will be told that they somehow blew aboard, and if we point at the roulette, it will change into the royal game of geese and the money on the table just happened to be there.

  "Bruha!"

  "Did anyone perhaps say something?" Lennie asked.

  Henri dived under the bar and popped up in the middle of the room. Baf rolled out of the corridor. In the rear of the room some disorder was evident. "I think I'll take a peep," Lennie said, and ran off.

  He came back. "A grumpy customer." He smiled reassuringly. "A German gentleman who claims that his soul squeaks because of the violins. Henri will change the cassette. The tape will be thrown overboard. The customer is king, and I don't particularly care for violins myself."

  The violins flew out of a window and were replaced by an electronic piano accompanied by double bass. Jungle voices sang about the Buhuhu and the Beeheehee instigating a serious relationship that proved to be subject to tensions. How all was well in the end was told by drumbeats and a muted trumpet solo. Grijpstra listened. De Gier listened too. Both liked what they heard. They hunched their shoulders and half-closed their eyes and only noticed the ladies presenting themselves to Slanozzel, when the suite came to an end.

  "My name is Eugenie," said a black woman dressed in white, from her crown to her ankles, for she also wore a veil. "Charlene," said a girl who wore nothing but high heels and shoestraps. "Virginia," said a bulbous blond whose fluffed hair bobbed and whose heaven-blue eyes shone. She was dressed plainly, in a dress printed with a pattern of copulating butterflies. "I'm called that because I'm a virgin and overdue to be raped, so it better be tonight. Who would like to ravage me thoroughly, in such a rough and painful manner that I might not be there afterward to applaud the outrage?"

  "You can choose or have us in turns, just as you like," the girls suggested.

  "The gentlemen are ready?" Lennie asked.

  "It's still early," Slanozzel said.

  Lennie clapped his hands. "Away with you. Climb the stage. Deflower Virginia, who is under orders to be passive. Be as impish and cynical, after a suitable introduction, as your lecherous minds will allow for. Rip her dress, but take your time, for the guests aren't in a hurry. Possess her as far as you can and let the spotlights shine."

  Well, de Gier thought, maybe something will happen after all. Let us try to follow Lennie's flight of imagination. Lennie isn't as average as he looks—he can't be or he would never have sunk so deeply.

  Henri pressed buttons hidden behind the bar that extinguished the red lamps that were scattered throughout the room. Baf zipped curtains aside and disclosed a raised stage. The music changed again—a sensitive hand plucked the strings of a lute. Virginia, grabbed by Baf and put down tenderly again, tripped to a rococo cast-iron garden table and sat down primly on a matching chair, but her skirt moved up and her shoes were tight so that she had to bend down and adjust their straps, and then her neck itched, an insect buzzed in between her legs and had to be removed, she also had to climb on her chair to pick a grape, the grape had to be eaten, sweetly pressed between her lips, lusciously squeezed by her tongue. The pantomime took a while, but the public was fascinated and unhappy when Virginia rang a little bell to call the maid.

  The maid was Charlene, wearing a servant's outfit. She belonged to the servile type that is so often mistreated in pornographic magazines. She arranged cups and saucers, but not properly, so that madame had to scold her and beat her even. Virginia turned Charlene upside down on her lap and hit her smartly on the bare buns. Charlene cried but dried her tears, for a visitor arrived. The visitor was Eugenie in a modest costume. Eugenie sat down and was served with tea and bonbons. Conversation, most polite. Compliments to and fro. About clothes, jewelry, quality of skin. The ladies got up, pirouetted around each other, felt each other's parts admiringly. Eugenie went too far. The audience understood that the visitor, herself female, was perhaps overly fond of women, but poor Virginia didn't seem to catch on. She giggled and tittered while submitting to further lewd approaches. The lutist was no longer plucking his strings; on the contrary, the minstrel yanked and banged, degenerating rapidly into a rock guitarist quite incapable of controlling his lower lusts. Servant Charlene was also manhandling her employer, and Virginia finally understood that she was attacked by both the denizens of Sodom and Gomorrah, and yelled for help, but Eugenie's hand smashed the desperate request.

  Virginia howled. She had been pushed backward on the table, after Charlene had swept the tea things away and stamped on their debris. Virginia sobbed when Eugenie, tearing and ripping, split her dress and discarded the rags. Virginia groaned when Charlene, her trusted handmaiden, pulled her up by the hair, stripping her of her underwear at the same time.

  "Bruha!"

  Whether Herr Sublieutenant Roder of the Hamburg Municipal Police came to save Virginia or whether he, not being confined within his own frontiers, wanted to air the subconscious part of his soul, wasn't clear to the stunned but interested audience.

  "Baf!" shouted Lennie.

  Baf came, grunting. He didn't come gracefully, he fell, his foot lifted by Grijpstra's leg, and hurt his chin on the edge of the stage. "Alas," shouted de Gier, and veered across the bar, grabbing hold of Henri. "Help," yelled de Gier in Henri's ear, but Henri couldn't be of much assistance because de Gier held on to him. Too tightly probably, for panic doesn't know its own strength. De Gier's hysterically shaking head bumped against Henri's chin. Henri became unwell. De Gier, surprised by Henri's detached silence, let go. "Do you want to lie down?" de Gier asked. Henri lay down.

  Baf pushed himself onto the stage but slipped back because Grijpstra pulled his leg. "Save that poor woman!" shouted Grijpstra.

  Lennie fought with the two young labor brokers, who wanted to help too and mistakenly thought that Lennie was detaining them. De Gier threw bottles. One hit one of the young men in the head. The young man, in defense, hit Lennie on the nose. The barman was up again, but de Gier's elbow hit him accidentally once more in the chin. Henri sighed and held on to a shelf that gave way. More bottles fell and were caught by de Gier. De Gier aimed better now, hitting spotlights that exploded. There was a sharp smell of burning.

  Some light penetrated from the quayside through tulle curtains and Roder's misdeeds on the stage were all too visible. Even skeptics knew at that moment that there could be no more thought of good intentions. The unfortunate Virginia was indeed being raped.

  The smell of burning became sharper.

  "Police!" shouted Slanozzel.

  "Charge!" shouted Jurriaans.

  Sergeant Jurriaans came in through the door, Karate and Ketchup through the windows. Broken glass clattered on the hardwood floor and was crushed by a furiously striding Baf, now definitely removed from the stage by Roder. Roder's shoe had hit Baf in the face, and because Baf was rubbing blood into his eyes, his sight was impaired.

  The labor brokers fought on dauntlessly, only attacking women, who were losing their clothes as they bounced back and forth.

  "Light!" shouted Karate.

  De Gier pressed Henri's buttons.

  "Fire extinguishers!" Ketchup shouted.

  De Gier handed them out.

  The fire consisted of some sparks in a far corner, but the fire extinguishers contained many gallons of foam. Rbder was finally restrained. He was done with Virginia and working on Eugenie, herself on the table now, and sideways on
Charlene, who begged for mercy until she had to close her mouth, hit by a stream of bubbly liquid.

  De Gier saw the conductor and the sheik escape and sprayed them as they crawled around the bar but let them go, out of pity and lack of interest, but Lennie was leaving too. Lennie stepped out of a window. De Gier was quick, but not quick enough. The labor brokers threw him a woman who scratched. Jurriaans was faster. Jurriaans saw how Lennie dropped into a powerboat. Jurriaans stepped out of the window too, but the powerboat was leaving. De Gier heard the splash and dived out of the window.

  The powerboat reversed. Jurriaans and de Gier swam out of its wake. The powerboat jumped forward, raising its bow and leaving white waves that rushed at its pursuers.

  "At last," Adjutant Adèle said, peering from the bow of Cardozo's brother's dory. "Something is coming at us. Catch it, colleagues."

  Cardozo pulled the starting rope of his outboard engine. The engine burped and stalled. Cardozo rewound the rope.

  "Let me try," Reserve Sergeant Varé said, and stumbled to the rear of the dory. Varé's position was port. Cardozo, yanking his string, moved to port as well. Adjutant Adèle, still observing the powerboat approaching rapidly, leaned to port too. The dory capsized.

  Patrolboat M-3 of the Amsterdam Municipal Police started up its twin engines while its crew of six water constables manned their battle stations. Lennie saw the approaching danger, increased speed, and turned his wheel sharply. The powerboat shot off at a tangent and hit Cardozo's brother's dory.

  Cardozo swam. He saw Lennie's head.

  "I can't swim," Lennie said.

  "I'll save you," Cardozo said. "Turn over on your back and go limp."

  Lennie obeyed. Cardozo swam around him. Lennie turned over again, leered, seized Cardozo's throat with both hands, and squeezed.

  Lennie didn't see Varé but Varé saw Lennie. Varé grabbed his left wrist with his right hand, made two fists, and made them come down with force on Lennie's head. Lennie released Cardozo.

  "You okay?" Varé asked Cordozo.

  Lennie popped up again.

  "You're under arrest," said Varé. "Keep quiet or I'll drown you. Swim to the shore. You have a right to a telephone call, and if you can't afford to hire a lawyer, the state will hire one for you."

  "Why don't you accompany the suspect," Adjutant Adèle said. "Then I can save Cardozo. Turn over on your back, Cardozo, and stop bulging your eyes."

  "Hello?" the water constables shouted. "Anyone in the water?"

  The water constables saved everybody.

  "That fellow," Jurriaans said, "needs handcuffs."

  "Hey," shouted de Gier.

  "No," said Jurriaans. "The other fellow. This fellow is a splendid chap."

  "Sorry," the water constable said. "But it's hard to see anything in this fog."

  "And take us to the Catburgh Quay," Jurriaans said. "That's about all you can do for us. Thanks for the assistance."

  "Our pleasure," said the water constables.

  "Now what shall we do?" Karate asked Ketchup. "The fire has been taken care of."

  Karate looked about him. Slanozzel rested on a couch and smoked a cigar. Baf still bled, leaning against the stage, and against Henri, who bled too.

  "Those two won't be going anywhere," Ketchup said. "You know what? We start the interrogations." He grabbed Char-lene. "You come with me." Karate grabbed Eugenie.

  "Where do you want me?" Charlene asked.

  Ketchup indicated a door. "Into there, on the double."

  "And now?" Charlene asked, opening herself on the bed. "Do you want to enjoy your break? Why don't you go ahead?"

  "No," Ketchup said. "You tell me where the heroin is kept. We'll find it anyway, but it'll take time, and in a minute they'll all be back and get in my way."

  "I don't know what you're talking about, darling," said Charlene, and extended her arms. "Come along and let's get this over with."

  "Dearest," Ketchup said, "cooperate a little, will you? Lennie has been caught. You'll have to look for another job. Try being more helpful for a change."

  Charlene opened herself further. "Just for a moment? Do make an effort, dear."

  "I wouldn't mind," Ketchup said, "but I'm working right now. Tell me where Lennie keeps his junk."

  Charlene sat up and crossed both her legs and her arms. "Spoilsport. The heroin is in the safe, and the safe is in Lennie's office."

  The door flew open. "What's going on here?" asked Sergeant Jurriaans, dripping on the expensive rug. "Since when do we segregate ourselves while dallying with unclad women?"

  "Join us," Charlene said, and picked up a pink telephone. "Shall I call another girl for you?"

  "It's in the safe," Ketchup said. "And the safe is in the office."

  Jurriaans pulled Ketchup back into the room. "In the what?"

  "In the safe, sergeant. They don't even bother to hide heroin anymore."

  Karate looked out of half-opened door. "The witness here says that it's in the safe."

  "I'll get the key," Jurriaans said.

  Adjutant Adèle stood in the gangway. "I've called the station and they're sending a van, and blankets in case we catch cold." She wrung out her hair. "Bah, I've got dirty water everywhere."

  Lennie stood behind Adjutant Adèle and in front of Varé, who guarded the suspect.

  Jurriaans put out his hand. "Key of the safe."

  "In the right pocket of my jacket," Lennie said. "I've got handcuffs on."

  Jurriaans looked at the key. "You really keep it in your safe?"

  "Where else?" said Lennie. "Isn't a safe safe? Do you know what heroin costs today . . . sergeant?"

  "Yes?"

  "Don't touch it, sergeant. There's a notebook in that safe too, with the names of those above you. They won't go after me if you mess with my junk, but they'll go after you."

  Jurriaans put his finger on Lennie's nose and pressed.

  "Ouch," said Lennie.

  "You talk too much," Jurriaans said. "We're going. to stew you."

  \\ 26 ////

  "ARE YOU TELEPHONING FROM AUSTRIA?" ASKED SERGEANT Jurriaans.

  "No," the commissaris said, "from my garden."

  Jurriaans frowned, took the phone from his ear, and looked at it suspiciously. He pressed it against his ear again. "Are you inquiring about the Obrian case?"

  "I will be," the commissaris said, "but not now. How about tonight, at six sharp in your station, and if you would, see to it that all colleagues who have worked on the case are present."

  "Sir," Jurriaans said in confirmation.

  "And, Jurriaans?"

  "Sir?"

  "Don't tell them that I'll be there."

  It was evening, the weather sultry, and the windows of the room were open. The commissaris sat by himself and smiled at the framed Civic Guard officers. The officers looked grim but not altogether unsympathetic because the little old man was their successor and carried their prestige; they forgave him his lack of plumed hat and sword.

  The invited entered. "Welcome," the commissaris said. He got up. "Good evening, Adjutant Adèle." He sat down again. "Hello, Sergeant Jurriaans . . . Hello, Grijpstra . . . Hello, de Gier . . . Hello, Cardozo." He got up again. "I don't believe we have met."

  Varé introduced himself. The commissaris shook Vary's hand. "Delighted to make your acquaintance, sergeant. I've heard your name mentioned. The chief of this station appreciates your contribution, and so do we at Headquarters."

  Varé and the commissaris smiled at each other. The commissaris waved at a chair. "Do sit down, sergeant. And here we have the valiants who bring up the rear. Hello, Ketchup . . . Hello, Karate."

  The subordinates scraped their chairs. The commissaris leaned back in his chair, folded his hands on his waistcoat, and curved his eyebrows.

  The colleagues mumbled.

  "Well?" the commissaris asked.

  The colleagues kept quiet.

  "I'm here," the commissaris said, "because I was sent for. Something, I was told, a
ppears to be wrong. What's wrong?"

  De Gier admired his face mirrored in the waxed table's surface. He spoke to his reflection. "Weren't you supposed to be in Bad Gastein?"

  "I am here," the commissaris said, "because one of you telephoned my wife, and my wife telephoned me."

  "Who?" asked Grijpstra.

  "Me," said Cardozo.

  'You?" asked de Gier.

  "Why?" asked Grijpstra.

  "Because," Cardozo said, "I thought that something was wrong. I had hoped that I would be able to speak with the commissaris in private."

  "There's nothing like teamwork," Sergeant Jurriaans said.

  Cardozo looked straight ahead.

  The commissaris coughed. He also touched his nose. He took his spectacles off and blew on his glasses. "When I left," he said softly, "I left orders that Obrian's murderer be apprehended. There were two suspects, Gustav and Lennie. I passed by Headquarters this afternoon and read all reports. Both Gustav and Lennie have been arrested." He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and polished his glasses.

  "Can I smoke?" Grijpstra asked.

  "No," said Adjutant Adèle.

  "Can / smoke?" asked the commissaris.

  "Certainly, sir."

  "Could Grijpstra smoke with me?"

  "Certainly, sir."

  The commissaris and Grijpstra bit the ends of their cigars and struck matches. They puffed smoke into the direction of a window.

  "So what's wrong?" the commissaris asked. "I would say that the preliminary investigation has been closed, for your reports do not mention the possibility of finding new facts." He refolded his hands and talked around his cigar. "But what seems strange is that you accuse neither Gustav nor Lennie of Obrian's death, although just about every other charge has been crammed into the forms. Who would care to explain?"

  "Sir," said de Gier. "The suspects have not been charged with the Obrian murder because of lack of proof, their fervent denials, and the possible validity of a theory."

  "What theory?"

  De Gier mumbled.

  "We're here anyway," the commissaris said, "and theories can be quite interesting. Tell me of your thoughts, sergeant, I can do with some entertainment."