"I'd like to see her," the commissaris said.
Heul's labored breath was slowing down as de Gier and the commissaris left the room. "Wait here," the commissaris said in the corridor.
Celine's body was in the room next door. The commissaris observed the corpse in silence. The head was twisted to the side, and an arm dangled off the stretcher. Celine's mouth hung open and her eyes stared past the commissaris. "Yes," the commissaris said. "Sure. Could be my fault, you know." He touched his chest and bowed. "Have a good journey."
"Funny," he said when he joined de Gier in the corridor again. "I always think that they've gone somewhere when I see dead bodies. I feel pleased for them. They're out of this. Life's rather a mess, very unreal. All this pain here can't be seriously meant. Whatever comes later must be a lot better. Surely it'll have to be made up to us. A bad break here, and then a holiday somewhere. There's no proof of that, of course."
"Sir?" de Gier said, holding on to a wall.
"Here, hold my arm." The commissaris and de Gier shuffled along. Farther along the corridor, a middle-aged man in a striped suit that bulged around his paunch was making notes on a pad. "Rood?" the commissaris said.
The man looked up. "Hello, sir. Sorry to disturb you about this, but both bodies are known to you, I hear. What do you think happened?"
"A continuation of the IJsbreker case," the commissaris said.
"Which was closed?"
"Yes, Chief Inspector, and reopened by me. Male subject, Heul, was going to implicate others and must have been liquidated before we delved too deeply, and I think the same goes for the lady. A shot was fired into my garden this afternoon intended to hit my pet turtle. We have reason to believe that Celine Guldemeester was forced somehow to accompany the rifleman. Perhaps she wanted to tell us about that. She liked de Gier."
"And she was on her way to the sergeant's apartment," Rood said. "There is no simpler explanation? An affair? A jealous lover?"
"The suspect I have in mind could be gay," the commissaris said.
Rood pocketed his note pad. "I'd better stay out of this, then. You're in charge of this case."
"I'm off duty," the commissaris said.
Rood shook his head. "You're not, you know. Haven't you been told? State Detection could find nothing on you. Me and some others have been exercising pressure on our dimwit chief. You're back in business, sir." He tapped de Gier on the shoulder. "You too, Sergeant. You're feeling okay? Bit pale around the nose? Too much blood for your taste?"
"Just tired," de Gier said. "Forgot to eat tonight. A bit busy."
"I shouldn't be here at all," Chief Inspector Rood said. "Halba's job, really. Seems he doesn't sleep at home much. That's another rotten apple, sir; isn't he due for a transfer? The farther the better."
"I'll be going home," the commissaris said. "Why don't you take care of the report? Would you mind doing that?"
"Overdose and accident, sir?"
"Let's leave it at that for now. No use alerting the papers. Keep it quiet, Chief Inspector."
"Sir," Rood said. "Your car is in the yard."
\\\\\ 26 /////
Turtle, hanging from the commissaris's hand, had come out as far as he could, rowing his legs and extending his scaly neck. He peered up at the commissaris's face with hooded eyes. "They thought they got you yesterday, Turtle," the commissaris said. "A good mistake. You think it's my turn now to make a good mistake?" His wife put down his coffee on the little table on the porch. She scratched Turtle's head. "Silly thing. You think he thinks, Jan? Carl's version looks very thoughtful. He's patched him up. Carl's making Noah's Ark now, using the piaster animals from your toy zoo. I said it was all right."
The commissaris stirred his coffee. "My zoo. I used to play a lot with that, trying to figure out what animals could be put together in one cage. I was always short of cages. The lion and the lamb, but that doesn't work so well. Another biblical tale that I could never accept."
"Is that why the lamb is red? You dipped it in paint?"
"And broke off its head," the commissaris said, "but I glued it back on later. Noah's Ark? Very applicable, don't you think? We do have a strangely assorted collection of creatures in the house now."
"You mean Carl and Mrs. Jongs? They get on very well. Mrs. Jongs is cleaning out the hall closet today, throwing out a lot. That's where Carl got the scraps he's using for the ark."
"We'll be adding to our collection today," the commissaris said. "Grijpstra is picking up Miss Antoinette. I think we'll have to place her in safekeeping too. Fernandus was grumbling about her yesterday. I didn't like that."
"Your mistress?" his wife asked. "You want your mistress to stay with us?"
"She isn't my mistress." The commissaris held his wife's hand. "She's my spy, risking her life for our good cause."
"No, Jan, I won't have her here. Such a smart-looking woman, she always makes me feel old and ugly. Don't do this to me."
"Yes," the commissaris said. "I have to. It won't be for long. You're eternally young, Katrien. I can see that clearly. Age has brought out your grace. Just the way you move…" He stroked her arm. "And your hair is so beautiful now, pure silver. Young women aren't quite formed, mentally I mean. They make desirable impressions, but the attraction doesn't last."
"That's what I think when I watch you," his wife said. "I like you better than in the early years. Your presence keeps improving."
"Same with all of us," the commissaris said. "If we evolve properly, of course. Fernandus looks much worse now." He looked up. "I thought he was going to have some heart trouble yesterday."
"So how long is Miss Antoinette going to stay, Jan? I may tear her to ribbons. We're incompatible animals if you lock us together."
The commissaris thought.
"Well?"
"You know what you could do?" the commissaris asked. "Link her to Carl. Give her the other room in the attic, they'll be next door. They should be good for each other. Miss Antoinette is always complaining about loneliness, and Carl could use some affection, I think. It may interest her to see what Carl does with his life. They would make a great pair."
"You amuse me," his wife said. "Why don't you grow your hair and wear a long dress and I'll play Beethoven's Fifth on the record player while you arrange the fate of little people?"
"I'll be divine?" the commissaris asked. "What's wrong with arranging a liaison between Miss Antoinette and Carl? I tell you, it'll work out well. Miss Antoinette's lights are lit when she's with handicapped men. I'm a bit of an invalid, too, and Fernandus suffers from evil. Carl is young and handsome, in spite of his affliction."
"Yes, he is," his wife said. "I find him attractive."
"You can't have Carl," the commissaris said. "You have me. Give Carl away. Has Cardozo gone home?"
"Cardozo is very restless." She caressed his shoulders. "A young man picked him up here this afternoon. I think Cardozo called him Izzy. What's Cardozo working on?"
"On our case, I hope." The commissaris stood up. "He asked me if he could bring his computer up here, and I told him yes; I hope you don't mind. He'll also bring a friend, maybe the fellow you mentioned just now. They're going to arrange a demonstration."
She turned to the door. "Not at all, dear. I suppose they'll all stay to dinner. Have you invited Grijpstra and de Gier too? And those two rough young men who swear a lot? And your State Detection friends, the painted horrors?"
"They'll all come later," the commissaris said. "We're having a meeting tonight. Tomorrow we move in for the kill."
"On Sunday?"