"Hiding?"
"Me?" de Gier asked. "No. Why? I'm just having a quiet drink. Congratulations, sir, you did pull this off well."
"Where's the Ferrari?" the commissaris asked.
De Gier thought. "Ferrari?"
"Ryder's Ferrari that wasn't there when I left the motel. You weren't there, either."
"Oh, that Ferrari," de Gier said.
"You won't tell me?"
"Sir," de Gier said. "You've just killed Fernanda."
"I have not."
"He's as good as dead," de Gier said. "He just doesn't know it yet. The baron is in the same position, but I demand the privilege of completing his situation."
"Are you two having a furious little chat?" the commissaris's wife asked. "Would you care for some sausage and mustard? What's the trouble, dear?"
"You tell her, Sergeant," the commissaris snapped.
"Thank you, ma'am." De Gier ate his sausage.
"I'm a white knight. I found my black knight. We will now have a duel."
"Childish," the commissaris said.
"In style," de Gier said. "Just for once I will do something in style. I'm still suspended. I'm flying around. I came down to help your husband out, and now that Cardozo has been good enough to take care of the case, I'll be tootling off and I won't come back until the victory is mine."
"Is he drunk?" the commissaris's wife asked. "Don't drive home, Sergeant. Take a cab." She tapped Mrs. Jongs on the shoulder. "Go and tell Adjutant Grijpstra about your lizards, dear, he wants to paint them. Miss Antoinette? I wonder if you'd do me a favor. Poor Carl is a bit unsteady on his legs; I'm afraid I poured him a rather stiff drink. Would you mind taking him home when the party is over?"
"Rinus," the commissaris said, "please."
De Gier refilled his glass. "Just once," he said dreamily. "Just once. I've heard a lot about it, I've read the exposes, I just want to know what it's like. Good guy kills bad guy."
The guests left, except Mrs. Jongs, who wanted to do the dishes. The commissaris and his wife walked about, picking up ashtrays and glasses. The commissar is's wife smiled; the commissaris frowned.
"Damn de Gier."
"You think he's serious, dear? You think Carl knows what to do with Miss Antoinette?"
"Yes," the commissaris said.
"He won't shy away?"
"Miss Antoinette can be very persistent."
She grabbed hold of him. "You see, it's true. I see it all now. In your office, probably, behind a locked door. Or did you take her to a hotel somewhere? Her apartment, maybe?"
The commissaris dropped a glass. "See what you made me do."
"Answer me, Jan."
"Katrien." He picked up the shards.
"What a fool I've been." She stamped her foot. "The wife is always the last to know. All those evenings you had to work late."
"Hee hee."
"You're laughing?"
"You flatter me, Katrien. Me? My teeth come out. See?" He wobbled his lower dentures.
"You don't do it with your plastic teeth, Jan."
"You're like Paul Voort," the commissaris said. "We're in the twentieth century, dear. The Inquisition is over."
"Who is Paul Voort?"
"That nasty man you shooed out of the door. He accused me of theft."
"Ach." She grabbed hold of him again. "You don't steal things."
"I just stole thirty million."
"No, you gave it away."
"And you gave Miss Antoinette away."
"You are jealous." She shook him. "Confess."
"Of Carl," the commissaris said.
"What do you mean, of Carl?"
"You like Carl," the commissaris said. "That's why I said he could have Miss Antoinette."
"You're jealous of Carl and me…" She held him at arm's length. "Jan!"
"I'm very jealous," the commissaris said. "I realize that now. That's why I destroyed Fernandus."
"You thought that Fernandus and I… really, Jan, I'm sixty years old and I haven't seen him in thirty."
"Something else," the commissaris said, "something else again. I haven't thought it all out, but I assure you I never touched Miss Antoinette."
"You're sure now?"
"Sure," the commissaris said. "You can kiss me to make up."
"No, you kiss me."
"That's nice," Mrs. Jongs said from the door. "I never kisses anyone. Bob doesn't like that. It isn't in the price."
Janwillem Van De Wetering
Hard Rain
\\\\\ 31 /////
KOWSKY OF THE Courier, a crablike man with eyes on stalks, a predatory creature who lived in his own crack in his own rock, where he rested between quick, darting attacks, listened to the commissaris with attention.
"You were going to write a piece before on the Society for Help Abroad," the commissaris said. "I believe you spent a night at their club, as a guest of Baron Bart de la Faille. Nothing came of that?"
"Plenty," Kowsky hissed. He sidled a little closer to the commissaris's desk, leering sideways at Miss Antoinette, who, neat and modest in her two-piece suit and lace-trimmed blouse, was pouring coffee. Kowsky retreated to his chair, holding on to his cup with his claw. "I'm still gathering material, researching the project."
"Making progress?" The commissaris, trim and dapper, adjusted his necktie so that it divided his spotless white shirt into symmetrical halves. "I'm sure you have. Perhaps you'd like some help."
Miss Antoinette watered the begonias on the windowsills, which, responding to their daily portion of loving care, flowered profusely, brightening the room with their splashes of glowing red. The leaves of the potted palm fluttered, touched by the morning breeze as Miss Antoinette opened a window. The portrait of the captain of the constabulary smiled down benignly from his golden frame and the glorious past. "Now then," the commissaris said, "perhaps this would be of interest. Reliable informants tell me that the Society is in financial trouble, very likely because of a crisis in the Banque du Credit. You do know that the Society and the bank are closely linked through their mutual president, the infamous attorney Willem Fernandus. A run on the bank is predicted, which will undoubtedly result in financial failure."
"How come?" Kowsky asked, sucking up coffee.
"You're familiar with the troubles of the Ryder empire?" the commissaris asked. "Ronnie Ryder met with a fatal accident yesterday. His speedboat blew up on the Vinker Lakes. His textile stores, mismanaged and almost bankrupt, were bailed out by the Banque du Credit, but the bank, by now, is very shaky too. Ryder was known to be an inveterate gambler, losing at roulette in the Society's club."
"Any criminal charges?" Kowsky asked pointing his sharp nose aggressively at the commissaris. "Didn't the manager of the bank commit suicide a while ago?"
"He died by violence," the commissaris said.
"Ryder did away with himself too?"
"Possibly," the commissaris said. "Fernandus's son, Huip, was also in the boat. We could consider the mishap to be a random event. I won't back you up if you mention crime."
"Front-page news," Kowsky said. "Absolutely. Thank you. 'Bye."
Miss Antoinette let him out. The telephone rang. She came back to pick it up. "The chief constable, sir, he wants you to see him right away."
The commissaris nodded. "Tell him to come here, and I want to see Halba too. Make that sound like an order." She passed the message. The commissaris reached over and broke the connection. Miss Antoinette replaced the receiver. "Do you want me to stay?"
"Please."
They waited. The door opened. "What's this?" the chief constable asked. The commissaris pointed to a chair. "We'll wait for Halba. Did you tell him to come here?"
"I did not," the chief constable said.
The commissaris picked up his phone and dialed, then said, "Halba. The chief constable and I are waiting for you in my room."
The chief constable cursed.
"Morning," the commissaris said when Halba showed up. "I'll be brief, so there's no need to sit down. I'm accusing you both, respectively and in ascending order of rank, of incompetence and corruption. I should have come out with this earlier, but I was hampered by the mess that you two helped to bring about. No." He raised his hand. "Shut up. This isn't a discussion. You will, respectively and in ascending order of rank again, apply for early pension and resign. I can't accept a refusal. Should you decide to make a stand, State Detection will uncover, with help from me, a series of misdemeanors that would show you both up personally and further worsen the image of the city's police. If you leave now, I won't take any action, but I can't guarantee that your self-made fate won't trip you up through some other chain of events." He stood up. "Please go. This will be a busy week for me. Hand in your written requests to the administration and leave the building afterward. That'll be all. Miss Antoinette, would you see these men out?"