The Rattle-Rat (28 page)

\\\\\ 27 /////

I
T WAS SNOWING. THE COMMISSARIS LOOKED OUT HIS WIN-dow. 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 /////

D
E 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."