"Was Abe close to anyone else? Any enemies?
Competitors?"
Louis thought, taking his time. "He slept with a lot of girls," he said in the end. "Perhaps he stepped on somebody's toes. I am sure some of those girls had lovers, or husbands even. He behaved like a stud bull at times. And he insulted people, of course. Insulted them by not caring. They could go blue in the face and blow steam out of their ears and he would just laugh, not offensively to annoy them, but because he didn't care. He would tell them they were balloons, or stuffed lifeless animals."
"But he included himself, didn't he?"
"Oh yes, he refused to see any value anywhere."
"So why did he make money then?"
Louis got up and put the carton in a corner of the room. "If nothing matters you can laugh and you can cry, can't you?" De Gier looked blank. "Abe preferred to laugh, with a full belly and a cigar in his mouth and a car parked in the street and a boat in the canal. I don't think he would have minded if he hadn't had any of those things, but he preferred having them."
"Ah yes," de Gier said.
"You don't understand," Louis said. "Never mind."
"You really admired him, didn't you?" de Gier asked viciously.
"Yes, copper, I did. But now he is dead. The balloon has burst. More questions?''
"No."
"Then I'll go to the nearest pub and have six glasses of colored alcohol, and then I'll go and sleep somewhere. There'll be a girl in the pub who'll let me go home with her. I don't want to spend the night here."
De Gier got up from the floor and left the room. He was too tired to think of any suitable repartee. He found the toilet before he returned to Esther's room and washed his face with cold water. There was a small mirror in the lavatory and he saw his own face. His hair was caked with soapstone powder and mud and there were paint spatters on his cheeks; the eyes looked lifeless, even his mustache drooped.
"Well?" Esther asked.
"I heard the name Bezuur."
"Klaas Bezuur," Esther said slowly, inviting him with a gesture to sit in the easy chair again. "Yes, I should have mentioned him but I haven't seen Klaas for such a long time that I have forgotten him. He asked me to marry him once but I don't think he meant it. Abe and he were very close once, but not anymore."
"Did they fall out?"
"No. Klaas became rich and he had to give up working in the street market and traveling about with Abe. He had to take care of his business. He lives in a villa now, in one of the new suburbs, Buitenveldert I think."
"I live in Buitenveldert," de Gier said.
"Are you rich?"
"No, I have a small flat. I expect Bezuur lives in a quarter-of-a-million bungalow."
"That's right. I haven't been to the house although he has asked us but Abe didn't want to go. He never visited anyone unless he had a good reason, sex, or a party, or a business deal, or a book he wanted to discuss. Klaas doesn't read. He's a bit of a slob now; he was very fat and closed up the last time I saw him."
"I'd better go," de Gier said, rubbing his face. "Tomorrow is another day. I can hardly see straight."
She saw him to the door. He said good night and meant to walk away but stopped and stared at the canal's surface. A rat, frightened by the tall looming shape of the detective, left its hiding place and jumped. The sleek body pierced the oily surface with a small splash and de Gier watched the converging circles fading out slowly.
"Aren't you going?" a voice asked, and he looked around. Esther stood at the open window of her room on the second floor.
"Yes," he called back softly, "but don't stand there."
"He can throw his ball," Esther said, "if he wants to. I don't mind."
De Gier didn't move.
"Rinus de Gier," Esther said, "if you aren't going you may as well come in again. We can keep each other company." Her voice was calm.
The automatic lock clicked and de Gier climbed the two flights of stairs again. She stood at the window when he came in, and he stood behind her and touched her shoulder. "The killer is a madman," he said softly. "To stand here is to invite him."
She didn't reply.
"You are alone in the house. Louis told me he is sleeping out. If you like, I'll telephone Headquarters and we'll have two constables guarding the house. The riot police have gone."
"Here," he said and gave her the toy mouse he had put in his pocket when Louis wasn't looking. Esther had left the window and was wandering through the room. She was looking at the tin animal as if she didn't know what it was.
"A mouse," de Gier said. "You can wind it up and put it on the floor. It walks and it jumps a bit. It's yours."
She laughed. "What's this? Shock treatment? I didn't know the police had become subtle. Are you trying to unnerve me so that I'll drop my defense and give you a valuable clue?"
"No," de Gier said. "It's a clockwork mouse."
"Abe used to give me things too. Seashells and bits of driftwood and dried plants. He would buy them on the market or find them on the beach somewhere and keep them in his room, and then he would suddenly come into my room, usually when he thought that I was depressed about something or other, and give me a present. I still have some of them."
She pointed at a shelf and de Gier saw some shells, bits of white and pink coral, a twig with dried seedpods. Esther was crying. "A drink," she said. "We need a drink. He has a bottle of cold jenever in the fridge, I'll go and get it."
"No, Esther. I have to go, but you can't stay here by yourself."
"Do you want me to come home with you?"
De Gier scratched his bottom.
She giggled through her tears. "You are scratching your bottom, are you nervous? Don't you want me to come home with you? I'll go to the police hotel if you have one, or you can lock me in a cell for the night."
De Gier adjusted his scarf and buttoned his jacket.
"You look a bit scruffy," Esther said, "but you have had a hard day. You are still handsome. I'll come home with you if you like. The house makes me nervous. I keep on thinking of Abe's face and that spiked ball you keep talking about. A good-day you said. It's all too horrible."
De Gier brushed his mustache with his thumb and index ringer. The hairs were sticking together, he would have to wash it. He grimaced. He would get soap in his mouth. He always got soap in his mouth when he washed his mustache.
"You aren't a sexual maniac, are you?" Esther asked. "It'll be safe to go home with you?" She laughed. "Never mind. If you are a maniac you'll be a very tired maniac. I'll probably be able to handle you."
"Sure," de Gier said. "Why were you standing at the window?"
"I heard a splash. I thought the killer had come back and that he had dropped his ball into the canal."
"So why go to the window? It's the most dangerous place in the house. Abe got killed at the window, or, rather, we think so now."
"I don't mind."
"You want to die?"
"Why not?"
"You are alive," de Gier said. "You'll die anyway. Why not wait?"
Esther stared at him. He noticed that she had a thick underlip and a wide nicely curved upper lip.
"All right," de Gier said. "I'll take you to my sister's place or anywhere else you want to go. You must have friends in town. This Corin lady you mentioned just now, for instance. Or relatives. Or I can take you to a hotel; there are lots of hotels. I have a car, it's parked near the Newmarket. I'll go and pick it up and you can pack a bag. I'll be back in five minutes."
"I'll go with you and come back tomorrow. Perhaps it'll be better tomorrow. I have washed the floor of Abe's room. I won't stay here tonight."
"I have a cat," de Gier said as he opened the door of the car for her. "He's very jealous. He'll probably want to scratch you and he'll wait for you in the corridor in case you want to go to the toilet. Then he'U jump you suddenly and yowl. He may also piss on your clothes."