"Sleep well, sir," de Gier said.
"Wait," the commissaris said. "I still have to phone a taxi for Grijpstra."
"It's all right, sir," Grijpstra said. "I'll walk to the taxi stand; it's a nice evening."
"As you wish."
The commissaris walked them to his front door and smiled as he shook hands. He looked very friendly.
"I hope that Belgian fellow hasn't done it," de Gier said when they were walking toward the taxi stand.
"Why not?"
"Because he is a diplomat, we can't arrest him."
"You want to punish somebody?" Grijpstra asked. "I thought you didn't believe in punishment. Didn't you tell me the other day that it would be much more fun catching criminals if you could be sure they would be taken to a nice place with a large park where they could relax and eat good food and play games and become healthy again?"
"Yes," de Gier said. "Criminals are sick people and should be cured in pleasant surroundings. But there are exceptions. This murderer killed a beautiful woman and beautiful women are scarce. A man like that should wear a ball and chain. And Mrs. van Buren was a witch as well. I would have liked to meet her."
"Ach," Grijpstra said.
"You don't agree?"
"I agree," Grijpstra said, and patted de Gier on the back. "Now you go home and go to sleep and dream dreams."
"Life is a dream," de Gier said.
"That's enough. Good night."
The taxi door slammed and the car took off.
De Gier waved.
Grijpstra didn't look around.
6
It was ten o'clock in the morning and it was raining. De Gier had just knocked on the door of a houseboat and was waiting for the door to open. He had put up the collar of his stylish raincoat and was muttering a string of curses, directed at himself who had bought the raincoat and the manufacturer of the raincoat who had forgotten to waterproof it.
The door opened and a fat woman, dressed in a torn peignoir and with her hair hanging down her face, looked at him with bleary eyes. "No, thank you," she said, and slammed the door.
De Gier knocked again.
"Go away," the woman shouted from inside the boat, "whatever it is you want to sell me, I don't want it."
De Gier knocked again.
"Go away," the woman shrieked, "or I'll phone the police."
"I am the police," de Gier shouted.
The door opened.
"Show your identification," the woman said, and pulled the card out of his hands. She studied the card, holding it at arm's length, spelling out the words to herself. "Amsterdam Municipal Police. R. de Gier, sergeant."
"All right," she said, "what do you want, sergeant?"
"Can I come in a minute?"
The woman stepped aside. De Gier gave her a photocopy of the sketch Bart de Jong had made of the man in the red waistcoat and his little son, holding a ball.
"Do you know this man at all, madam?"
"Let me get my glasses."
The fat woman got her glasses, polished them, and put them on. She studied the sketch carefully. "I have seen him," she said, "he only comes on Sundays, Sunday mornings. Walks about with his son. A lot of people come here for walks but I wouldn't remember them but I remember this one because of his silly waistcoat. A red waistcoat. He has a golden watch chain as well. He reminded me of my grandfather, that's why I remember him too."
"Do you know his name?"
"No," the woman said, "why should I? I never talked to him. Why are you looking for him?"
"We want to ask him a few questions," de Gier said, looking around and noticing how well kept the interior of the boat was. Everything was in its place, the furniture looked as if it had been polished a few minutes ago, the windows were so clean that he had to look again to make sure that there was glass in them. "Typical," de Gier thought, forcing himself to look at the woman who was still eyeing him suspiciously. "Ugly woman," de Gier thought, "should go on a diet and spend an hour a day on herself. She can't be thirty yet, could be quite attractive if she tried."
"Nice boat you have, madam," he said sweetly, "must be wonderful living out here on the water."
"I would prefer a nice apartment," the woman said, but she smiled.
"You didn't notice whether the man used to come here in a car and park it somewhere around here?"
The woman thought; the effort made her less ugly. "Yes. He might have come in a car. It's a long walk from the city and he had the little boy with him. Maybe he parked somewhere close by and then went for a walk. But I haven't seen his car."
"Thank you," de Gier said.
"Would you like some coffee, sergeant?"
"No, thank you, madam, I still have a lot of work to do."
De Gier left. It was the seventeenth door he had knocked on that morning. He knocked on another ten doors and finally got an answer. He walked back to the police VW where he found Grijpstra waiting for him, patiently smoking a cigar.
"What kept you?" Grijpstra said. "I have been waiting here for nearly half an hour. I looked for you, did you find a pretty lady somewhere?"
De Gier took a deep breath. "No."
"The man used to drive out here," Grijpstra said, "in a red Rover. I wanted to tell you."
De Gier took another deep breath. He had been training himself in mental discipline lately and had set himself several goals, such as not to smoke before breakfast, not to swear, to stop at orange traffic lights, to be modest. But the exercises were difficult and he didn't win much. He lost now.
"I know," he said.
"What do you mean you know?" Grijpstra asked gruffly.
"The man drove a red Rover."
"So why didn't you tell me?" Grijpstra asked. "I was running around knocking on doors and seeing a lot of old women with curlers in their hair and you knew all the time. What kept you?"
"Nothing kept me," de Gier said. "I was working and I know more than your red Rover. Two girls live in a houseboat right at the end, students. One girl studies English and the other medicine."
"Yes. And they were under the shower and you had to dry their backs and then they made you some coffee and it was rude to refuse. I know."
"You know nothing," de Gier shouted. "They knew something. They had seen the car and they remembered the letters on the license plate."
"So?"
"V.D.," de Gier said.
Grijpstra got out of the car and slapped de Gier on the shouder. "Splendid. Good work. Excellent. That's enough for the clerks at Headquarters. You found our man."
De Gier had his first kind thoughts of the day and thanked his fate. He knew other adjutants. He also thanked the commissaris. The commissaris had made him Grijpstra's assistant.
"I am soaked," Grijpstra said, "and so are you. Let's get back but let's go to your flat first and I'll have coffee while you change your clothes and then we can go to my house a minute so that I can change as well, and we'll phone the commissaris from there."
"Right," de Gier said.
"Yes," the commissaris said through Grijpstra's phone. "IJsbrand Drachtsma is coming at two o'clock, but I would like you to come to my office at one. The detectives have finished their search in Mrs. van Buren's houseboat and I would like to discuss their report with you."
The detectives had lunch in a cheap little restaurant close to Headquarters. They ate quickly and rushed, still chewing their last roll, to a room on the top floor of the police building where two men in shirt sleeves were playing cards.