De Gier’s face didn’t move. His large eyes were staring at the commissaris.
“No. Don’t answer me, you don’t have to. We are discussing the baboon. He likes to do the opposite of what seems to be expected of him, and perhaps he evades the trap that way. He accepted neither Elaine’s nor Gabrielle’s offer. And yet he had worked for the Carnet ladies for ten years, had been their chief salesman and their close friend, their lover even. They were offering him the whole caboodle, lock, stock, and barrel, with themselves thrown in. And Gabrielle’s offer was even better than her mother’s had been, for she is an attractive young woman.”
Cardozo had woken and had pushed himself up against the bookcase.
“A most reasonable offer. The intimate pleasures Gabrielle can dispense plus a firm that, if properly managed, should yield half a million profit a year over and above a director’s salary.”
The commissaris coughed as if he had said too much. His eyes strayed back to the balcony. De Gier had replaced the plants that had been either torn or swept right out by the gale. A profusion of begonias covered the balcony’s cast-iron railing and their top leaves shimmered in the moonlight like small, succulent, live coins.
“Another brandy, sir?”
“Just a nip, a small nip, I must really be on my way.”
The crystal decanter appeared once more, and the commissaris sniffed the fragrance of the thick liquid pouring into his glass.
“Your health, sergeant. Yes, the baboon was worm meeting. We won’t meet him again. He was sucked into the case by a lonely woman’s desires, a woman he might not have liked very much once he got to know her too well. I didn’t like Elaine Camet either. Fortunately I didn’t have to, she was dead when we began. Bergen was worse. I should have liked him for he needed our help, but I couldn’t make the effort. A fool, sergeant, of the worst variety.” He looked into his glass. “Perhaps because he lived on the surface, doing what he thought was proper, following the stream without ever bothering to consider where it was taking him. Well…”
“Has Mr. Pullini gone back to Italy, sir?”
The commissaris brightened up again. “Oh, yes, I took him to the airport this morning, after we had breakfast in the Pulitzer, a very enjoyable breakfast. You haven’t met him, sergeant, have you?”
“No, sir.”
“Pity. A dangerous man in a way but good to be with. We had a marvelous time in his hometown together. Papa Pullini visited Francesco in jail last night. Francesco isn’t comfortable but he is reasonably contented. Nobody in Italy should ever find out what happened to him here. He is supposed to have gone on an extended business trip and will be back at the end of the year.”
“He will only get a few months, sir?”
The commissaris nodded. “Yes, the prosecutor wasn’t too impressed with our charges, fortunately. The charges will stick, of course, they are well documented. Mr. de Bree’s statement, Gabrielle’s statement, Francesco’s own confession, Cardozo’s report about the cigars. The defense hasn’t got a chance, but even so, just a few months, I would say, and we’ll be able to escort Francesco to the airport before the year is over. A beautiful case in a way, a textbook example of provoked manslaughter. It will probably be known as ‘the Italian furniture dealer’s case’ and will be used in examinations.”
“And Dr. Havink, sir?”
“Dr. Havink? I thought you would ask me about Mr. de Bree. I would think mat de Bree’s crime was worse than Dr. Havink’s. I find it very difficult to feel compassion for a man who tries to kill an animal by poisoning. But he did it out of love for another animal, our good friend Tobias. Interesting, very. I hope the judge will probe the case deeply and I’ll be in the court listening. Yes, that would be most interesting. I hope he’ll get that elderly female judge, she has a brilliant mind.”
“I would like to hear more about Dr. Havink, sir,” de Gier said slowly. “I read your reports, but you didn’t waste too many words and you made the arrest on your own.”
The commissaris drained the rest of his brandy and smacked bis lips. De Gier reached for the flask. “No, sergeant, very kind of you, but no more. Well, what can I tell you? A greedy man. It’s amazing mat medical specialists with high incomes can be mat greedy and also that stupid. They can’t see their own motivation in spite of all the intelligence they are undoubtedly equipped with. He told me mat he practiced his little tricks because he had to pay for his equipment, all mat computerized electronic gear he needs for his brain tests. He assured me that the equipment was benefiting humanity. Nonsense. The city doesn’t need Dr. Havink’s gadgets, our hospitals ate over-equipped already, and our crippling taxes are partly due to our paranoid fear of death. Why should we have private clinics where already available equipment is duplicated?”
“Yes, sir, but how did you get him?”
The commissaris waved at the begonias. “Ah, the good doctor was so easy to trap. I couldn’t use Bergen’s skull anymore, it was too badly damaged, so I used my own. I have a friend who is a neurologist and I asked him to arrange for an X-ray of my head. Easy as pie, sergeant, easy as pie. My skull showed no calcifications. Oh, sure, it showed some, but nothing abnormal. Nothing behind which a nasty little tumor could hide. Then I went to Dr. Havink, who had never met me, and registered as a patient suffering from intolerable and chronic headaches. He hemmed and hawed and told me mat he would need to photograph my skull. Very well. He did and showed me the photograph. Sure enough, a white spot. And the whole rigamarole about the tumor. Of course it might be nothing, and if it was something it might be harmless, but still, one never knows. Better to be on the safe side. Surely. So would I undergo further tests? Yes, yes, yes. Please. The results of the tests were negative and I was sent on my way again. No mention of money, for I had told him I worked for the municipality and had given him my insurance policy’s number. No trouble there.”
“And then you asked him for the photograph with the white spot?”
“Yes. And I whipped it off his desk and ran off with it He was shouting at me, but by that time I was out the door. My neurologist friend compared the two photographs, which were altogether different, of course.”
“Falsification and embezzlement.”
“Yes, sergeant. And I went back the next day to arrest him. You read my charges, I’m throwing everything at him. He, and some of his colleagues, are manipulating the ignorant by playing on their fears. An old game of the medical profession, it’s been with us since the first medicine man went into his trance. They used to charge two pigs and a goat. Now they clean out the insurance companies and the insurance companies grin and raise their premiums. A very old game, sergeant. Cardozo! Rise and shine.”
De Cher telephoned for a taxi, which arrived within minutes, and walked his guests to the elevator.
Grijpstra was on the balcony when de Gier came back.
“Closed,” de Gier said as he began to gather the debris of the little party.
“What? The bar?’
“Never. No, the Carnet case.”
“I’ll have a brandy. I saw where you hid that decanter, mere’s still a good deal left.”
“But, of course. But first you can help me wash up and I’ll vacuum mis room. Cardozo has been sitting on his cheese and crackers and you must have walked mat sausage into die carpet.”