De Gier felt the gold wristwatch. "Did he throw out his watch too?"
Carl smiled. "I stohole it, he's gohot soho many."
"What does your dad do?" Grijpstra asked.
"Sehells oil to Sohouth Africa."
"You've got friends, Carl?"
Carl turned toward de Gier, twisting his mouth. "Fuhuck friends."
"But you were friendly with Jimmy, and the black dude, and the lady."
Carl shrugged.
"So why did you hang out with them?"
Carl wandered away, his arms swinging awkwardly, his feet pointed toward each other. "You loved the lady?" Grijpstra asked gently.
Carl stopped and turned slowly, and his arms, the hands twisted inward, jerked up. "Sohome. Jimmy was okay. The black duhude muhmugged me, that's hohow we met. I foho… foh… "
"Followed him?"
"Right. Becauhause of the papers in my wallet. Wahanted them back."
"And so you met the lady?"
"Right."
"But your friends are all dead now," Grijpstra said. "Didn't you get some junk too? In pay for the robbery? Whoever gave that to you meant to kill. That's why we're here."
"To ahaharrest me?"
De Gier was rolling another cigarette. "No, Carl, you have to believe us. You're not under arrest. If you don't want to cooperate, we'll leave you be, but we found you easily enough and so can they. I mean Heul and young Fernandus, the guys who were trying to pester Mrs. Jongs out of her house. There are probably others. IJsbreker was shot-he never committed suicide, we know that now. I think you know it too. You're not charged with any crime, but we think you can lead us tp the killer."
Carl was looking through his magnifying glass at the dead fly.
"We'll take you to a private home," Grijpstra said. "Mrs. Jongs is there already. We believe her to be in danger too."
Carl looked around. "Mayhaybe you're the kihillers."
De Gier put his police card on the table. Carl read it. "Mayhaybe you're poholice killers."
"Police killers," Grijpstra said, still looking at Carl's father scrutinizing the Financial Times. "You think a cop shot the banker?"
"Dohon't know fohor shuhure."
"Weren't you in IJsbreker's house?"
"Wohon't say."
"So you were," de Gier said. "We thought you weren't. Did you want to help the lady? Where did the paintings and vases go?"
"Dohon't know."
Grijpstra studied a wolf's head about to chomp down on a fluffy toy bunny that was peering innocently from between its captor's ferocious fangs. "This is fantastic. We should get you an exhibition somewhere. The Museum of Modern Art would be interested, I think. Doesn't the commissaris know the director there?" He looked at Carl. "The commissaris likes your work. He's seen the rhino's head and Mouse. Those pieces are safe."
"The comm… comm…"
Grijpstra mentioned the commissaris's name.
"Hah," Carl said.
"You've heard of our chief? You'll be staying at his house, in Queen's Lane, not far from here. That's where Mrs. Jongs is now."
"The commissaris has a nice wife," de Gier said, "but she doesn't care for art. The adjutant here paints. She hangs his painting in dark corners. They're sort of gruesome."
"You payhaint?" Carl asked Grijpstra. "What?"
"I'm not very good," Grijpstra said. "A Sunday dabbler. I'm always mixing up the wrong colors. Like now, I'm doing this waterscape, it needs canal greens. The ducks are all right, I've got the ducks drawn in."
"The ducks haven't got any flesh on their faces," de Gier said.
"I got the ducks right," Grijpstra said, "but I need this pale green for the water and I can't mix it."
"Greeheens?" Carl asked. "I got some." He led Grijpstra to a shelf holding an array of jam jars, each filled with dried shredded plants. "Seehee the frog there?" The frog, assembled from scrap wood, had been sprinkled with green dust.
"That stays on?" Grijpstra asked. "Do you glue it?"
"Yehes."
Grijpstra picked up the frog gingerly.
"Why not?" de Gier asked. "You can fish up some water weeds, dry them, and glue them on. You can do anything you like."
"Perhaps," Grijpstra said slowly. "Yes, that might be an idea."
Carl smiled. "You're welcohome."
"Yes." Grijpstra touched Carl's shoulder. "Thanks."
"We'll be going, then," de Gier said. "Please come along. If you don't like it at the commissaris's house, we'll bring you back. Okay?"
"Yehes," Carl said.
\\\\\ 15 /////
"So far, so good,"Grijpstra said while De Gler turned the Volkswagen into a lane leading to the Amstel River. "Carl liked the commissaris's wife, don't you think?"
"I thought Mrs. Jongs and he did a great hug," de Gier said. "I like unlikely hugs. I find them inspiring. The half-burned horse he had up in his loft was inspiring too. That's the horse the knight rides into heaven, when he has smashed the other knight on the field at dawn, after a long and exhausting duel. I'm looking forward to that final feat."
"We did that right," Grijpstra said. "You think we're getting better, Sergeant? Dealing with a genius who uses a body that's almost completely out of whack? I noticed that I kept wanting to talk to Carl as if he were retarded, even though the fellow is more intelligent than the two of us put together."
De Gier glanced at his rearview mirror. "Would you mind leaving me out of your equation? Did you notice we're being followed? No? Who did notice?"
"You," Grijpstra said. "My heartfelt congratulations. Very clever of you, especially as you're the only one who can look at the rearview mirror."
The car reached the dike. De Gier checked the mirror again. "Two bearded types in comic hats, driving a Daimler. Are we being honored with a State Detection escort too? Don't they have regular vehicles in The Hague? Did you see that Corvette parked in front of the commissaris's house?"
The Daimler flashed past them, low and sleek, the smooth hum of its powerful engine controlled by a chrome-plated angel stretching its wings on the radiator cap.
"Classy car," Grijpstra said. "Why do they pass us if they're following us? Nobody follows us. You're getting nervous again."
De Gier laughed carelessly. "Me, nervous? I wouldn't know the meaning of the word. White knights have no nerves. They did follow us, because I didn't take the regular route from the city to the river, but a scenic roundabout, deliberately chosen while continually aware of anything going on around us. And the Daimler kept following."
"What are we doing on this road?" Grijpstra asked. "Get off it. I want to drive on the dike, contemplating river water."
"I chose this road too," de Gier said. "I feel adventure here. It may lead to an ancient castle. A noble lady waits for us on the ramparts. She is dressed only in a veil. She waits for me, but she won't take off the veil until I have slain the black knight."
"Do turn around," Grijpstra said. "I have bad nerves, and your knightly talk jangles them. This road is a dead end, and I want to watch ducks."
The Volkswagen bounced as it hit a pothole. "Hold it," Grijpstra said. "Stop." He reached for the microphone under the dashboard. "Headquarters? This is…" He held the microphone in front of de Gier's face.