"Coffee?" asked Jurriaans, and put his hand on a telephone. "Delicious cake?"
"If you please," said the commissaris.
The coffee came, as did the cake. Everybody busied himself with the tearing of sugar packets and the passing of the milk jug. There was diligent stirring.
"Gustav," de Gier said, "was apprehended first and I've listened to his comments. My impression is that Gustav didn't kill Obrian, but he did attempt manslaughter on Orang Utan and he's definitely a deranged and dangerous criminal. He should go to jail for a long time because of what he did—and would still do if he weren't incarcerated."
"Not a nice man?" the commissaris asked.
'No, sir. I think," de Gier said, "that Gustav had to be imprisoned. In order to realize that intention, the quarter's police station had come up with serious suspicions. Because there didn't happen to be any at the moment, they had to be fabricated. They were fabricated by manipulation."
"Who manipulated whom?"
De Gier looked at Karate.
"Me?" Karate said. "Why me? What can I, a simple constable manipulated by higher forces, manipulate?" He frowned sadly. "Me, caught in the banality of anonymous existence, me, a mere minion ..."
De Gier looked at Ketchup.
Ketchup blew his nose.
De Gier waited.
Ketchup put his handkerchief away. His small face grinned morosely. "Could I, my colleague's colleague, cause the tiniest deviation in the path of destiny?"
"Miserable modesty," de Gier said, "is a weapon I'm learning to handle too, but let me theorize further. Orang Utan is a brother with a violent reputation. He has been reprimanded several times. His last offense was an assault on rebels riding Harleys. They called him a nigger, but he is an Ambonese."
"Who are brown," said Varé.
"And Obrian was black. I mention the color"—de Gier kneaded his chin—"but color hardly fits in my theory. What does fit is that Orang Utan detested Gustav. He persecuted Gustav. Gustav usually drove a Corvette. The morning that he attacked Orang Utan he drove a Peugeot. I have found out why Gustav wasn't driving the Corvette. That car had been towed away by the police but couldn't be found on the parking lot where the police trucks customarily deposit their catches."
"Why had the Corvette been towed away?"
"Because of double parking, sir. The ticket had been issued by Orang Utan. According to my information, Orang Utan made a habit of sticking tickets on the Corvette and then radioed the tow trucks so that they could impound the car."
"A feud between Gustav and Orang Utan," the commissaris said. "Very good. The two men knew each other? There had been arguments?"
"Yes, sir."
"And on this occasion the Corvette had not been taken to the proper place. Why not? My car has been towed away too, but I got it back easily. All I had to do was pay the fine to the officer guarding the yard."
"I was told that the tow truck had an engine problem and ditched the Corvette somewhere along the way."
"You believe that the truck had no engine trouble?"
"Yes, sir. The tow truck's driver and Orang Utan are friends."
"You can prove the relationship?"
"Yes, sir. But both the driver and Orang Utan deny that they were harassing Gustav. Double-parked cars are customarily towed away, and Gustav makes a habit of double parking. Tow trucks are known to have engine trouble at times."
"So how did you manage to arrest Gustav?"
Ketchup held up his hand. "Our report states clearly what went on."
The commissaris nodded. "What didn't the report state?"
"That Orang Utan," de Gier said, "who was riding ahead of Gustav had been warned via the walkie-talkies of our helpful constables that Gustav was following him."
"So the channels of the walkie-talkies were the same as the channel used by the motorcycle cops," the commissaris said, "which is a coincidence, since there are many channels."
"Too much of a coincidence sir."
Jurriaans removed a speck of dust off his sleeve. "Coincidences do happen."
De Gier also removed a speck of dust off his sleeve. "And what were Ketchup and Orang Utan discussing when they met earlier on that same day in the police garage?"
"The weather?" asked Ketchup.
"We are not supposed to provoke," the commissaris said, "but even provocations have to be proved. I spoke to the public prosecutor, who never mentioned the possibility. The lawyer for the defense may speak up, of course, but there's still the heroin found in Gustav's house and the charges that Gustav's prostitutes are pressing against their previous employer. It seems that we did meet with some success after all, but we were working on the Obrian case, or am I mistaken perhaps?"
"Gustav is fried," Jurriaans said.
"And there was another suspect. Lennie."
"Are you looking at me?" Grijpstra asked. "Sir?"
"I have to look at someone," the commissaris said. "I can look at someone else if you prefer."
"Lennie," Grijpstra said, "was arrested on a charge of assaulting an officer, Cardozo in this case, whom he tried to throttle and drown. The report was signed by Cardozo himself and the witness John Varé, who is also a policeman, and signed under oath. Lennie was also arrested on a charge of drug dealing. We found two kilos of heroin in his safe."
"And cocaine, one pound," Jurriaans said.
"And hashish," Ketchup said. "Oil, a gallon."
"And some jars filled with speed," said Karate.
"And," said Grijpstra, "on a charge of employing a minor for lecherous purposes, a certain Charlene, fifteen years old."
"A well-formed child," Karate said.
"Overly well-formed," Ketchup said. "If you ignore half, you would still think she is ten years older."
"Gentlemen," the commissaris said, "there's a lady present." He bowed to Adjutant Adèle. He addressed Grijpstra. "The report was not signed by you."
"I signed, sir," Jurriaans said. "I arrested the suspect. Grijpstra and de Gier happened to be visiting the brothel, on the invitation of a friend of mine, Mr. Slanozzel. Trouble arose, someone called for the police, and as I happened to be on patrol in the neighborhood, I entered the establishment."
"Via the waterside?" the commissaris asked. "Since when do you patrol in a boat?"
"We happened to employ a boat, sir, because there had been complaints. Lennie's brothel has a bad reputation, and if we had approached the trouble spot via the quay, we would have been seen. The quay is well-lit."
"So you were on the water, accompanied by five officers, and Grijpstra and de Gier were causing discord in the brothel."
"No, sir," Grijpstra said. "We just happened to be around because we wanted to know what the brothel was like, and also to please Mr. Slanozzel, who asked us to accompany him. It would have been rude to refuse his invitation in view of his friendship with Sergeant Jurriaans."
"Who caused the trouble?"
"Some German," de Gier said.
"And where did he go?"
"He left," Grijpstra said. "We didn't see where he went. There was so much going on, and everybody kept falling into the canal."
"A German," the commissaris said. "I wonder who that could be?" He took off his glasses again and inspected their lenses.
"Sir?" asked Jurriaans.
"Let's have it, sergeant."
"We didn't need witnesses, so Grijpstra and de Gier weren't mentioned in the report either. The charges are clear enough. Naked facts don't have to be dressed up."
"I should say not," Ketchup said. "The girl who I interrogated was shapely enough."
"And did you see the blond?" Karate asked. "Who was taken care of by the Kraut?"
"Hmm," the commissaris said. His small fist hit the table. "That German." He pointed at Grijpstra. "Sublieutenant Roder, Hamburg Municipal Police. He's the only German police officer I can recall who owes us a favor. Did you send for him?"
Grijpstra studied his hands.
"I sent for him," de Gier said.
"Roder is a civilian here. He can provoke as much as he likes."
"So you all had a good many drinks first," the commissaris said, "at the expense of this Mr. Slanozzel. I don't know the name."
"Four bourbons," De Gier said.
"Four genevers," Grijpstra said.
"Mr. Slanozzel is an upright citizen," Jurriaans said. "A businessman from the West who likes the quarter. A wealthy man."
"Legally wealthy?"
"I do believe so," Grijpstra said.
"And did you instigate relationships with any of the women?"
"No, sir."
"Although sex was included in the price," de Gier said, "but we couldn't have it anyway. Too much happening, fistfights, fire, cops coming in through the windows . . . "
"If you couldn't extricate yourself from the human situation," the commissaris said to Karate, "and your colleague was unable to influence fate, then we may perhaps excuse the adjutant's just lassitude and the sergeant's rightful ignorance." He rubbed out his cigar. "If." He smiled brightly. "But we could still try to analyze the premises." He looked at Adjutant Adèle. "You were highest in rank, so we may assume that you were in charge of the raid. Would you say there was any provocation?"
"I do not always say what I think, sir."
"What would you say?"
"I would say," said Adjutant Adèle, "that we were on patrol and heard citizens shouting for help. We responded. We found what we found."
"Yes." The commissaris shook his head.
"Lennie is stewed," Karate said.
"And did Lennie murder Obrian?"
"He says he didn't," Jurriaans said, "and my report does not mention the Obrian-related charge. We will continue interrogating the suspect, but don't you think we have enough on Lennie?"
"I'm not really thinking yet," the commissaris said. "Yes, Cardozo, you want to say something too?"
Cardozo dropped his finger and smiled slyly. "I too have a theory."
"Which is?"
"I believe," Cardozo said, "that neither Gustav nor Lennie had anything to do with Obrian's death."
"But your theory does include a suspect, I hope."
"Certainly, sir." Cardozo sat up eagerly. His fist pounded the table.
"Who?" asked the commissaris.
\\ 27 ////
CARDOZO'S TANGLED CURLS, FRAMING A POSITIVE AND cheerful countenance, amused his peers. The police folk gathered around the table relaxed, feeling at home in the solemn ambience of the room, under solid beams that both supported and adorned the neatly plastered ceiling. Soft light filled the deep windowsills and was reflected in the fresh green of leaves and the muted red of dainty flowers. The station staffs stiff tunics, whose stately blue was set off by the impeccable white of shirts and strengthened by faultlessly knotted black ties, added to the trustful atmosphere. The commissaris' light-colored shantung suit and Grijpstra's neat striped costume contrasted in a dignified manner with the contained frivolity of de Gier's clothing. Cardozo as the lone exception made a comical effect. Lips curled and eyes twinkled.
"You have a suspect?" de Gier asked.
Cardozo tore at his curls. "Yes, sergeant."
"And who could your suspect be?"
"You."
Cardozo dropped his hands on the table and froze. All others moved. De Gier reacted most noticeably: he hid his face in his hands and groaned. Grijpstra crushed a cigar. Jurriaans pronounced a word consisting of consonants. Adjutant Adèle bit the nail of her right index finger. Ketchup veered forward and Karate backward. Reserve Sergeant Varé flattened his nose with the knuckle of his thumb, and the commissaris burped behind his handkerchief.
"Me," de Gier said. "It was me. The end is near."
"But, Simon," Grijpstra said. "What's the matter with you? The warm weather perhaps? Some trouble at home?"
"No," Cardozo said. "I feel fine. I've got my facts and I've got my theory. If I fit the facts together in some other way, I get lost in the absurd. Whenever they fit, they point at de Gier as the killer. Is it my fault that de Gier shot Obrian?"
His question wasn't answered.
"It is not," Cardozo said firmly.
"And those facts?" the commissaris asked. "Could we also try to fit them together?"
"I will disclose my facts." Cardozo opened his notebook. "Here is one. We have the report concerning Obrian's murder that was written and signed by Sergeant Jurriaans. My fact is the untruth contained in that report. The report states that the shooting took place at twenty past three in the morning, but Obrian was shot at three o'clock."
"You have witnesses?"
"Three roller-skating young gentlemen," Cardozo said, "who rolled along the Seadike and heard the shots tear through the tinkle of the local church's carillon."
"So I lied?" Jurriaans asked.
"Yes, sergeant."
"But I'm not de Gier."
"De Gier"—Cardozo's voice squeaked and he had to clear his throat—"is your friend. He shot Obrian at your request. You lied to protect de Gier. If you hadn't lied, he might have been suspected, which would have made you guilty too because of supplying him with the weapon."
"Fact?"
"And the funny clothes," Cardozo said, "No, not a fact, sergeant. Sorry, this part is only a suspicion."
"You're joking," Grijpstra said.
"I'm not joking. Here comes another fact. The murder weapon belonged to Eliazar Jacobs, which I can prove because the experts told me that the bullets that did away with Obrian originated in Jacobs' Schmeisser. Another fact is the actual friendship between Jurriaans and Jacobs. Another fact again— Jacobs lives five minutes' walking distance from the Olofsalley. Jacobs often drinks too much. The evening before the murder was spent by Jurriaans and Jacobs in one another's company, partly in Hotel Hadde. Jurriaans walked Jacobs home. Now another suspicion. Jurriaans put Jacobs to bed. Took the Schmeisser. Passed the Schmeisser to de Gier. De Gier shot Obrian. De Gier returned the Schmeisser to Jurriaans. Jurriaans took the weapon back to Jacobs' room."
"Jacobs never knew?" the commissaris asked. "We're talking about the Jacobs who works at the morgue?"
"Yes, sir. He was asleep, deeply asleep, because he was also drunk."
De Gier's mouth sagged. He closed and opened it again. "Cardozo, little friend, can I say something?"
"Yes," Cardozo said.
"So why did I later find the weapon in Jacobs' room? Why did I allow everybody to fire it? Why did I ask you to take it to headquarters?"
Cardozo smiled.
"No," Grijpstra said. "You've got to answer those questions. Are you quite out of your mind?"
Cardozo spoke softly. "I'm sane, adjutant. And I'm sad. You know why de Gier forced that situation. You've known him longer and better than I have. You know the bizarre jokes he fancies."
"Me?" de Gier asked. "Don't you think I'm an excellent cop?"
"You're an absolutely splendid cop," Cardozo said. "That's why I admire you so. You're my hero. I'm always imitating you. Your nonsense almost always contains sense. Because you're a good policeman you had the weapon confiscated. It had performed its task in trusty hands, but Jacobs is crazy and you didn't want him armed."
"I'm a bizarre splendid cop?" de Gier asked.
Cardozo caressed the table. He looked up. "I don't know what you are, Rinus. I've been trying to figure you out for a long time, but you never fit my definitions. A policeman who murders a bad pimp—you think that's exaggerated?"
"It seems exaggerated to me," the commissaris said.
"My friend's enemy is my enemy," Cardozo said. "Jurriaans is de Gier's friend. Obrian was Jurriaan's enemy. Sergeant Jurriaans is known was the king of the quarter. Obrian was a mere prince. The prince attempted to supplant the king. I know this station, I served here for a number of years. The sergeants are in charge of the station, and Jurriaans is the sergeants' sergeant. His word is law. He rules by a single gesture at the right moment. He protects and restrains. He's respected."
"You're talking about me?" Jurria
ans asked.
Cardozo nodded at Jurriaans. "Yes. Your authority was impaired, a little more each day, and always by Obrian. Divide and rule, that's what you always did; you balanced the princes against each other. Prince Obrian, Prince Lennie, Prince Gustav. Obrian had pushed his brothers out and you could no longer rearrange the balance. Obrian's shadow increased; you couldn't stop the black cloud."
"Pimps can be caught," Jurriaans said, "as you saw."
"So why didn't you catch them earlier, sergeant? You made de Gier grab Gustav because you had lost control. You went all-out, but you could only do that because Obrian had been removed. You were paralyzed when he was still around."
"Why was Obrian so strong?" the commissaris asked.
Cardozo thought.
"Some strange power perhaps? A god?"
"Yes," Cardozo said. "The devil is also a god. Obrian was a man who could make use of the shadow force. I thought so when I saw his wicked dead smile. And then there's the tale about what happened to a woman called Madeleine."
"Yes," Grijpstra said. "No more of her."
"What happened?" the commissaris asked.
Ketchup described the incident.
Cardozo shook his head. "Such a lovely woman, in such a lowly attitude, in public too."
"Please," Grijpstra said.
"It was rather submissive," Karate said.
"Still a bit of a taboo," Varé said, "although it has been common practice for as long as humanity exists. I've seen prehistoric images depicting oral sex. I suppose that the local taboo is of Victorian origin, and local indeed—outside of Western Europe, no eyebrows are raised."
Grijpstra closed his eyes.
"You can open them again," de Gier said. "We'll change the subject. Cardozo, why are you dragging me into your theory?"
"You assisted Jurriaans," Cardozo said, "because you're his friend and because you sympathized with his predicament, and also because the challenge was new to you, for I'm sure you've never shot a pimp before. You're an adventurer and delight in being a hero."
"You make your sergeant sound like a teenage punk," Adjutant Adèle said.
"Maybe I don't express myself well," Cardozo said. "I really admire Sergeant De Gier. He's fearless, and when he thinks he should do something, nothing will hold him back. I always hesitate when I'm about to be courageous, and I usually only succeed in making a fool of myself."
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