"You don't have a good time yourself," the commissaris said. "I refuse to believe it. You repress your true nature. It must burp up all the time. Do you see a psychiatrist at all?"
Fernandus stared, biting his finger.
"See?" the commissaris asked. "What's your complaint? Can't sleep? Short of breath? Feel like you're suffocating at times? You're not really a devil, Willem, you're a good man hiding behind a demonic mask."
"Have you seen your secretary lately?" Fernandus asked.
The commissaris shook his head. "I don't go to the office."
"I see her."
"Good for you."
"Maybe I'll do away with her," Fernandus said. "I do kill people, you know."
"Right," the commissaris said. "My offer still stands. I'm about to grab you, Willem. I may have boasted a little when I spoke to you earlier, but now that I'm in pursuit, I'm surprised how easy it all is. Criminals are always careless. There are so many holes around you that I'm surprised you're still around. Do away with the Society and the Banque du Credit-I mean total liquidation, with your share of the funds transferred to some needy foreign organization-and confess to some misdeed that will get you into jail for three years. If you do that, I don't go any further. I won't say this again. Refuse and you'll be destroyed. Ruthlessly, I'm afraid. There's no way I can protect you if you won't surrender now."
A spasm, starting at the corners of his mouth, made Fernandus's cheeks tremble. His hands shook. "Tom?" the commissaris called. "Could you bring another glass of water, please?"
Fernandus drank the water. The glass rattled against his teeth.
"Feel better now?" the commissaris asked. "Oh, by the way, I brought you something." He looked through his wallet. "Hope I didn't leave it home… no, here it is, you can keep it."
Fernandus pushed the piece of paper away. His hand still shook. "I'll tell you what it is," the commissaris said. "Remember the money that was taken from your club? This is proof that all that cash-a bit more, actually, I included the winnings of my men; after all, we did have a pleasant time at your establishment- now then, this document proves that all the money was transferred to a fund in Calcutta, run by a nun. I hope that organization is honest; we never know, of course, but Katrien thinks it is. The nun, apparently, is concerned with the poor, starving in the streets of her city. She provides housing, food, medical care, and spiritual comfort. I don't know about spiritual comfort, not being religious myself, but I don't think your donation can hurt."
"Listen," Fernandus said, "listen…"
"No," the commissaris said. "Your Society was set up to provide help abroad. Now don't bother me any further, Willem. I don't enjoy your company in your present state, and don't blame me if the process of destroying you will be painful to you." He got up. The waiter opened the door. " 'Bye, Tom," the commissaris said, handing him money. "Thank your wife for the pie."
\\\\\ 25 /////
"Jan?" The Commissaris's wife whispered. "Jan? Jan?"
He grunted.
"Turn over. You're squeaking. You're having a bad dream."
He turned over. The dream continued. The commissaris sat on Miss Antoinette's lap, or Miss Bakker's lap, they were both the same woman. The woman kissed him and her finger tickled his stomach. "Poor little Jannie," the woman said. She was very beautiful and he reached out to touch her full standing breasts. It was very hot in kindergarten, nobody wore any clothes. "Poor little Jannie," the woman whispered. "Never mind, dear. Nasty Willem is to blame, he told you that I said you could watch the mice, didn't he? And then he told me that you were watching the mice without permission. I'm sorry, I know it now. It was all Willem's fault."
The mice had come out of the terrarium and were dancing around the schoolroom, wearing pointed paper hats. One had Chief Inspector Halba's overbite and another wore a blazer and slacks, like Commissaris Voort. A chief constable mouse tried to climb the woman's leg but she managed to kick it off. Little Willem Fernandus was being whipped in a corner, by Adjutant Grijpstra, who impassively made his leather thong swoosh. De Gier looked out of a window. His eyes twitched every time the whip struck Willem's little pink bottom.
A bell rang and the dream began to shred but the commissaris was still holding on to the woman's breast, which had turned green and very soft, a pasty mass that began to pour over his body and was getting into his mouth. "Lobster feces," a voice boomed. "Please don't consume this substance. We'll speak to the cook."
"Jan? Jan?"
"Yes," the commissaris said.
"Telephone. It's been ringing for a while. Are you going down?"
The telephone had stopped by the time the commissaris got to it, but started up again when he was halfway up the stairs. His leg hurt and he dragged it down the steps once more. "Yes?"
"Sir? De Gier. Could you come over to Wilhelmina Hospital? I can't pick you up. Your car is being dusted for fingerprints right now."
"Anyone hurt?"
"Two," de Gier said. "Heul and Celine. Halba couldn't be reached, but Chief Inspector Rood is here. He'll send over a patrol car."
"I see," the commissaris said. "I see. But I have Carl and Mrs. Jongs here, and Katrien of course."
"I have phoned Grijpstra, sir, he's on his way to you. You want Cardozo too?"
"Yes," the commissaris said. "It'll make Katrien feel better. All right, Rinus, I'll get dressed."
A half hour later the commissaris walked over to the hospital's reception desk and was guided to a room by a young nurse. De Gier opened the door. "Celine just died, sir. Heul's in a deep coma. He won't make it, the doctor says."
"Let's see him."
The thin body on a table gurgled and snored. A young man in a white coat watched the patient. "Heavy overdose, I've seen a lot of them now. The needle was still in his arm. Heroin, I'm sure, but the laboratory will confirm that tomorrow. We're short of staff tonight."
"An addict?" the commissaris asked.
The doctor shook his head. "Not of heroin. I checked his nose and I would say the patient has used a lot of cocaine, but there are no marks on the arms or anywhere else on the body. May have been his first try."
"Where did you find him?" the commissaris asked de Gier.
"In your car, sir, parked in front of my apartment building. About an hour ago. The door lock was broken. Heul was slumped over the wheel."
The commissaris looked at his watch. "Where were you going at three o'clock in the morning?"
"I had a call, sir. The police found Celine in the street, next to a crushed bicycle. She was still alive and mentioned my name. A witness saw her being run down by a black car."
"Mrs. Guldemeester was on her way to you?"
"So it seems." De Gier swayed. "Whoa," the doctor said. "Sit down." He slapped de Gier's face lightly. "Hold it now." The commissaris shook de Gier by the shoulders. "Hello?"
"Yes," de Gier said. "Sorry. I'm here. Rather a lot of blood. Her chest is caved in. According to the witness the car hit her twice. The second time it reversed."
"A lot of internal damage," the doctor said. "Horrible, blood coming from the mouth. I don't understand this very well. What was the lady doing on a bicycle at that time of the night? She was very well dressed. Drunk perhaps? I did smell alcohol."