"No," the commissaris said, "no, you go ahead, I hope the situation is getting a bit better on the square."
"It isn't," the officer said. "It's getting worse. We are getting fresh crowds now, young idiots who come in screaming and dancing. I better get back."
Grijpstra watched Louis's face as the officer left the room. Louis was showing his teeth in the way a baboon does when he feels threatened. "It seems you are enjoying yourself," Grijpstra said.
"It's always nice to see the police get a beating,'' Louis said in a low voice.
Grijpstra bristled. The commissaris made a gesture. "Let's forget the Newmarket for a while. Tell us about the incident in this house. What do you know about it?"
Louis had lit a new cigarette and puffed industriously. "Esther found the body close to five o'clock this afternoon. She screamed. I was here, in my room. I ran downstairs. I told her to phone the police. Abe had been in my room an hour before Esther found him. He was right here, talking to me. There was nothing wrong with him then."
"What's your connection with Abe and Esther?"
"I am a friend. I got to know him on the market, the Albert Cuyp Market. I bought a lot of beads from him once, kept on going back for more. I was trying to make a structure, an abstract figure which I was planning to hang from the ceiling. Abe was interested in what I was doing and came to see me where I lived. I had an uncomfortable room, small, no conveniences, no proper light. He was buying this house and suggested I move in with him. And we used to go sailing together. His boat is outside, moored next to that big houseboat you can see from the window. A clapped-out little yacht. He would take it out when there was a good wind but he found it difficult to handle by himself."
The commissaris and Grijpstra got up to look out of the window. They saw the sixteen-foot plastic sailboat.
"It's half full of water," Grijpstra said.
"Yes. Rainwater. He never bothered, just hosed it out when he wanted to go sailing. The sails are downstairs; it only takes a few minutes to rig the boat."
"What about that houseboat?"
"It's empty," Louis said. "Been for sale for a long time. They want too much money for it and it's rotten."
"Somebody could have stood on the roof and thrown whatever it was that hit Abe," the commissaris said thoughtfully. "Why don't you go down, Grijpstra? Perhaps the police in the street saw somebody on the houseboat."
"What was that nasty remark you made about the police just now?" the commissaris asked when Grijpstra had left the room. "You told Esther to telephone us when the body was found, didn't you? So we must be useful, why sneer at something which is useful?"
"The body had to be taken care of, hadn't it?" Louis asked, and his eyes sparkled. "We couldn't dump it into the canal, it would foul the water."
"I see. So you called the garbage men?" Louis dropped his eyes.
"But your friend is dead, his face is bashed in. Don't you want us to apprehend the killer?" Louis' face changed. It lost its sparkle and suddenly looked worn and tired. The sensitive face became a study in sadness only kept alive by the luster of the large eyes.
"Yes," Louis said softly. "He is dead, and we are alone."
"We?"
"Esther, me, others, the people he inspired."
"Did he have enemies?"
"No. Friends. Friends and admirers. A lot of people used to come and see him here. He threw parties and they would do anything to be invited. He had lots of friends."
"And in business? Was he popular in business as well?"
"Yes," Louis said, staring at the plastic skull in front of him. "King of the Albert Cuyp street market. Very popular. All the street sellers knew him. Bought from him too. He was a big businessman you know. We used to bring in cargoes from Eastern Europe and a lot of it was sold to the market. Lately we were doing wool, tons of wool, for knitting and rug making. Wool is expensive stuff nowadays.'"
"We?" the commissaris asked.
"Well, Abe mostly. I just helped."
"Tell us about yourself."
"Why?"
"It may help us to understand the situation."
Louis grinned. "Yes, you are the police. I had almost forgotten. But why should I help the police?"
Grijpstra had slipped into the room and taken his place on the bed again. "You should help the police because you are a citizen," Grijpstra boomed suddenly, "because you are a member of society. Society can only function when there is public order. When order has been disturbed it has to be maintained again. It can only be maintained if the citizens assist the police. The task of the police is to protect the citizens against themselves."
Louis looked up and laughed.
"You think that's funny?" Grijpstra asked indignantly.
"Yes. Very funny. Textbook phrases. And untrue. Why should I, a citizen, benefit by what you, in your stupidity, in your refusal to think, call public order? Couldn't it be that public order is sheer boredom, a heavy weight which throttles the citizens?"
"Your friend is dead downstairs, with a bashed-in face. Does that make you happy?"
Louis stopped laughing.
"You are a student, aren't you?" the commissaris asked.
"Yes. I studied law but I gave it up when I saw how sickening our laws are. I passed my candidate's examinations but that was as far as I could go, I haven't been near the university since."
"What a pity," the commissaris said. "I studied law too and I found it a fascinating discipline. You only have a few years to go. You don't want to finish your studies?"
The boy shrugged. "Why should I? If I become a master at law I may find myself in a concrete office somewhere working for some large company or perhaps even the State. I don't particularly want to join the establishment. It's more fun shouting at the street market or driving a truck through the snow in Czechoslovakia. And I am not after money."
"What would you do," Grijpstra asked, "if somebody rolled your wallet?"
"I wouldn't go to the police if that's what you mean."
"And if someone murdered your friend? Didn't you tell Ester to phone us?"
Louis sat up. "Listen," he said loudly. "Don't philosophize with me, will you? I am not used to arguing. I accept your power and your attempt to maintain order in a madhouse and I'll answer any questions you may ask as long as they relate to the murder."
"You mean that humanity consists of mindless forms groping about?" the commissaris asked dreamily as if he hadn't really been listening. He was looking at the trees outside the window.
"Yes, you've put it very well. We don't do anything, things happen to us. Abe has found his death just now, like a few million black people have found their death in Central Africa because the water ran out. There's nothing anybody can do about it. My grandparents were thrown in a cattle truck during the war and dumped into some camp and gassed. Or maybe they just starved to death, or some SS man bashed their heads in for fun. Same thing happened to Abe and Esther's family. The Rogges stayed alive because they happened to survive; their lives weren't planned, like the deaths of the others weren't planned. And the police are pawns in the game. My grandparents were arrested by the police because they were Jews. By the Amsterdam municipal police, not the German police. They were told to maintain order, like you are now told to maintain order. That officer who was here a minute ago is merrily bashing heads now, on the New-market Square, half a kilometer from here."
"Really," Grijpstra said.
"What do you mean, really?" Louis shouted. "Are you going to tell me that only part of the police worked for the Germans during the war? And that most of your colleagues were on the queen's side? And what about 4he queen? Didn't she send troops to Indonesia to bash villagers on the head? What will you do if there's another war? Or a famine? It may happen any minute now." He coughed and looked at Grijpstra's face, ominously, as if he wanted the adjutant to agree with him.