"I certainly can," Voort said, peering at his notebook.
"Yes, but does she have to answer?" The commissaris shook his head. "I'm in murder myself, and you're now investigating fraud, but I rather think the same rules apply. You need a serious suspicion. Wouldn't you have to convince a public prosecutor first? You might possibly need some proof before I could be ordered to show my private papers. It isn't as if Katrien and I are flaunting our vast wealth. I do think I could afford to buy a car and have my house remodeled on my after-tax salary-once in a good while, of course, and it has been a while since I spent money on such necessities. And Katrien, well, she did inherit a bit from her parents. Only daughter, you know. Let's have the next question."
"Second house," Voort rumbled.
"Yes," the commissaris said, "I own a vacation home."
"Where?"
"Suppose I won't tell you," the commissaris said. "Do I have to tell you?"
Voort poked his pen at a gold-capped front tooth.
"I don't have to tell you," the commissaris said. "Same thing again. You need a serious suspicion, then you can drag me to a judge. If I still refuse, you could charge me with hiding evidence. This is a game, isn't it?" He looked at the chief constable. "You said that just now. Let's see if State Detection can locate my summer cottage. Might not be so easy. Houses are registered by town. There are a lot of towns in the country." The commissaris rearranged his legs and examined his other shoe. "I could give you a clue. It isn't really a house, it's more like a small trailer, or rather it was when I last saw it. I haven't been there for a while. Katrien wants to sell it. You could ask Katrien, of course, but there we go again-she doesn't have to answer you. May I use the phone?"
The chief constable pushed his phone across the desk.
The commissaris dialed, waited, and then spoke. "Katrien? Listen, this is fun. There's a colleague from Central Detection here who has all these questions. About how much money we have, and so forth. It's all a game. Like they play in The Hague. Government games? You've heard of those?… What's that?" The commissaris looked at Voort. "No, he isn't nasty, just nosy, you might say, but I say that we don't have to answer his questions… You agree?… Good. Yes. I will be careful, dearest. Even if it's a game. Good-bye." He put the phone down. "So I'm off duty for a while?"
"With pay," the chief constable said. "Like an extra holiday, but I thought you might not like that. If you cooperate with the investigation, your discomfort won't last too long."
"Oh, I don't know," the commissaris said. "I daresay I could find something to do with my spare time. Something useful, even." He clapped his hands. "Yes."
"You're not being helpful," Voort rumbled. "Not at all. I'm still prepared to work in a friendly way."
"No, no," the commissaris said. "I insist. Each game has its rules. Let's pretend we're sworn enemies, colleague. I'll be as tricky as I can be. Dodge your questions, trip you up where I can, and, of course, I expect the same from you. Let's play cops-and-cops. Cops-and-robbers I know by now, but this variation is new to me. Let's match wits." He pushed himself out of his chair. "You must excuse me. I'm off duty now. May I still spend time in my office, or is that out too?"
"I would like you to be within reach," Voort said.
"I'll be around," the commissaris said. "I might be home from time to time. Give me a ring whenever you like."
The chief constable walked to the door. "Please. I didn't expect this sort of behavior from you. Do be serious."
The commissaris frowned. "I'll try. That's part of the game? We pretend the investigation matters?"
"There are penalties," Voort rumbled.
"Such as?" The commissaris stood opposite Voort's seat.
Voort sneered. "Lack of sympathy when I do turn something up might mean a dishonorable discharge."
"Very well," the commissaris said. "All right, do a good job, you two. No mercy. Let's have a good game. What if I win?"
The chief constable stood in front of the door. His lips trembled and his eyes bulged. "You won't, I swear you won't. Not after this."
The commissaris turned his back to Voort. "The Porsche?" he whispered loudly. "The blonde photo model? My insinuations didn't upset you, I hope?" The commissaris stepped closer, smiling up at his much taller opponent. "Don't get nervous this early in the game."
The chief constable stepped aside. "Get out."
" 'Bye," the commissaris said. He didn't look around when the door banged behind him.
"Well?" Miss Antoinette asked when he came back to his room.
"I'm off duty." He switched on the faucet of a small basin in the corner of the room, and beckoned her close.
"Oh, no," Miss Antoinette quavered. "I don't want to lose you."
"Just for a little while." He nodded. "So far, so good. Look after Halba for me."
"That miserable man?"
"Only a little," the commissaris said. "Keep an eye on the chief constable too, and on Paul Voort, my colleague from State Detection." He pocketed the case of cigars that she had picked up from his desk. "Thank you, dear." He took his gun from the drawer of his desk and locked it away in the safe hidden by the gold-framed portrait of the antique constabulary officer. "Won't need that, I think. Wouldn't do to shoot anyone when I'm off duty. Now, dear, you might have some time off every now and then, with me not here. We could meet." He pointed at a map of Amsterdam. "Here, I'll show you. Over there."
"On the-"
He put his hand to his lips. "Right. Do you know how to get there?"
"Yes."
He held her by the hand and walked back to the running faucet.
"Every morning at ten? If you can't make that, at four in the afternoon will be fine. You might be followed. Can't have that. Put on a bright raincoat, then take it off somewhere. Change trams."
"Yes." She smiled. "Yes, sir."
"You can trust Grijpstra, de Gier, and Cardozo," the commissaris said. "No one else. If you're followed too much you can reach me by letter at the cafe on the island, or you can talk to my wife. She goes shopping after lunch. Meet her in the grocery store around the corner from my house."
"How exciting," Miss Antoinette said. "I love it."
"It won't be at ten times your regular pay," the commissaris said sadly.
"But can I wear a split skirt?"
The commissaris took his time washing his hands.
"Please? I'd like to be a vamp for a good cause."
"We'll see."
"Please?"
"All right, all right." The commissaris looked around the room, nodding at the begonias and the potted palm next to his desk.
"You will be back here?"
He sighed. "Yes, dear. I think I will, but this will test my talents. I may be a babbling wreck when I come back. My habits are strong by now." He shook his head. "To reverse them…"
She kissed his cheek. "Be ruthless. We'll all help."
"Yes." He opened the door. "See you, Miss Antoinette."
\\\\\ 13 /////
"This is Mrs. Jongs," the Commissaris's wife said. "She'll be staying with us for a while. Remember? Adjutant Grijpstra phoned late last night, saying that he might bring a guest?"
"I heard all about your predicament, Mrs. Jongs," the commissaris said, shaking the old woman's hand gently. "I hope you'll be comfortable here."
Mrs. Jongs rattled her dentures. "I don't bother you?"
"Not at all." He touched her stooped shoulder. "Our pleasure entirely." He smiled at the worried look on Mrs. Jongs's crinkled face. "We'll soon have you home again. In the meantime, please enjoy your stay with us."
"I cooks," Mrs. Jongs said, "and I cleans."
"We're cooking now," the commissaris's wife said. "Your favorite lunch. Veal ragout and rice. Mrs. Jongs is tossing the salad. She has been talking to Turtle in the garden."