"I was a boy at the time, sir."
"Yes, but your personal guilt has nothing to do with it. Hatred is never rational, especially a deep hatred such as Zilver must be suffering from. I was jailed and tortured by the Germans during the war and I have to force myself now to give directions to young German students who have lost their way. I associate the way they speak and behave with the young SS soldiers who once knocked six of my teeth out. That was over thirty years ago; the students weren't even born then."
"But we are trying to solve the murder of his friend," Grijpstra said. "If he bothers us it must be because he has killed Abe himself."
The commissaris shook his head and raised a finger. "He was in the house when Abe died, wasn't he? Esther Rogge said so. And Zilver said Esther was in the house. If Zilver killed Abe Rogge, Esther, the victim's sister, must have been his associate. I think we all agree by now that the killer was outside, most probably on the roof of that wrecked houseboat opposite the Rogge house."
"Zilver could have nipped out, sir," de Gier said, "and nipped in again afterward. I would like your permission to arrest him and hold him for questioning. We have a serious reason to suspect him now. We can hold him for six hours if you give the word."
"Yes," Grijpstra said. "I agree, sir."
"Just because of the droppings and the bloody rat?"
"I have another reason, sir," Grijpstra said slowly. They all looked at the adjutant, who had stood up and was staring out of the window, his hands deep in his pockets.
"You can tell us, Grijpstra," the commissaris said.
"The painting in Abe Rogge's room, sir. Perhaps you remember the painting. It shows two men in a boat, a small boat surrounded by foamy water. It must have been late at night, the sky is nearly as blue as the sea, a blackish blue. Maybe there was a moon-sky and sea almost merge and the boat is the central point in the painting."
"Yes, yes," the commissaris said. "Go on, and look at us when you are talking."
"Sorry sir." Grijpstra turned around. "But the main point of that painting not the boat or the sea or the light, but the feeling of friendship. Those two men are very close, as close as people can be. They are drawn as two lines, but the lines join."
"So?"
"I don't mean a homosexual relationship."
"No," the commissaris said. "I know what you mean, and you are right, I think. I saw that painting too."
"Bezuur told us that the two men were himself and Rogge. He got all blubbery about it. Do you remember, sir?"
"Yes. Yes, he was obviously suffering. Quite genuinely I thought."
"Yes, sir. Rogge had dropped him or fought with him or broken the relationship in some other way. I believe Esther told de Gier that her brother just stopped seeing him. But Bezuur didn't crack up, for he had other interests, his father's business, which he inherited, and great wealth. But Zilver would have had nothing if Rogge had dropped him."
"Yes," the commissaris said. "True. A mentally disturbed young man who relied completely on his stronger partner. But did we have any suggestion that Rogge was going to, or had already, broken his relationship with Zilver?"
"No sir," de Gier suddenly said. "Or at least, not that I know of. But if he had it would certainly have upset Louis Zilver, and Zilver is capable of extraordinary activity when he gets upset. He proved that this morning, didn't he?"
"So," the commissaris said slowly. "You two are suggesting that Rogge told Zilver to go away, leave the house, get out of the partnership on the street market, and so forth. Esther said that Rogge would drop people the minute they began to bore him. He didn't need anybody apparently, and he could always find new company. A throng of admiring women, for instance. Flicked his fingers and they wagged their tails, so Tilda told us. The other lady confirmed the fact too. That Kops woman, the surrealist, huh!" He shuddered. "Silly woman that. But never mind. She told Zilver to get lost and Zilver reacted drastically!"
"Indeed," Grijpstra said. "Esther also told us that Rogge like to upset people, show them up for what they really are, prick their vanity. He must have done that to Zilver too. Maybe he did it once too often. And suddenly, without anyone being around to notice it. A single remark perhaps. Esther apparently doesn't suspect Zilver, because she didn't know that Abe had told him off. Zilver must have killed Rogge almost immediately after the incident happened."
"Now, now," the commissaris said. "And what about the device? He must have used a hellish machine, as de Gier pointed out before. An ingenious unusual weapon. Did he have it in his cupboard? And did he run to his room after Abe told him off? Did he grab the weapon, rush outside, use it and run back to his room again?"
"Sir," de Gier said.
"Yes, de Gier?"
"It must have been an ordinary thing, sir. A hellish machine which looks like an ordinary utensil."
The commissaris thought. He also grunted. "Yes. Because he had it outside in the street and the riot police didn't notice anything amiss," the commissaris said slowly.
"Zilver isn't normal, sir," Grijpstra said. "He is probably insane. This dogshit and bloody rat business proves it. No sane person would go to such lengths as he must have done early this morning. Poor fellow can't be blamed, I suppose. The war, and what happened to his grandparents and all that. If he is our man we'll have to turn him over to the city psychiatrists. But I think this is the moment to grab him. He'll probably know we are after him and he'll be defensive and frightened and ready to talk."
"True," the commissaris said.
"So can we have a warrant for his arrest, sir?"
"No," the commissaris said. "I am not convinced that he committed a murder, or two murders. Whoever killed Rogge killed Elizabeth. And whoever killed Elizabeth is ready to kill again. Maybe you are right, but I doubt it."
"So do we forget the incident, sir?" There was no emotion in Grijpstra's voice. He was rubbing the stubbles on his chin.
"Certainly not. You and I are going to see him."
"Excuse me, sir," C amp;rdozo said.
"Yes?"
"Just a suggestion, sir. Why don't you let me go and find him. I won't spill anything, just that I was told to take him to Headquarters. Maybe he'll say something to me on the way. He has nothing against me so far and we are about the same age. We even have the same background."
"Very well, the commissaris said. "Bring him in by public transport. But make sure someone is following you. And watch him. We don't know under what stress he is laboring. And perhaps you and I should question him. Grijpstra may provoke him into another tirade about the police. On your way, Cardozo. Bring him straight up to my room when you come back."
"Sir," Cardozo said, and left.
"That's better," Grijpstra said. "You are right, sir. I am ready to wring his neck. And so are you," he added, looking at de Gier.
"Yes," de Gier said. "I've got the dead rat in a carton on my desk. I'll show it to you."
"Never," Grijpstra said. "Put that box in an ashcan. I am not showing you that dogshit, am I?"
"Gentlemen, gentlemen," the commissaris said. "I am sure there's something useful to do. Find out what it is and then do it. I'll let you know as soon as I know something."
19
"Am I under arrest?" Louis Zilver asked. He was sitting in a low leather chair, close to the window of the commissaris' office, and was frantically sucking smoke from a cigarette he had taken out of his own packet, after having refused the small cigar which the commissaris had offered him. Cardozo was in the chair next to him and the commissaris faced the two young men. The commissaris was sitting on his desk. He had had to jump to reach its top and his feet were off the ground.