Janwillem De Wetering - The Rattle-Rat

"A colleague?" the commissaris asked. "What's the nature of the charge?"

"Not really a charge," the chief constable said, "although if there were one, it might be called corruption. Caused by loving kindness, one might say, but even so, we can't have that in the police. We're not the Salvation Army. What do you think?"

The commissaris looked fierce.

"In Amsterdam, of course, you are more tolerant," the chief constable said.

They left the car and crossed the square. "Such delightful peace," the commissaris said. "Such architectural beauty." He waved at the quietly impressive buildings. "A simple style, but majestic all the same. Rather amazing to find that in a province."

"I wouldn't call Friesland a province," the chief constable said. "It's more like a state."

"Why not?" the commissaris said. "That explains the stately buildings. You're right, of course. I was bora in this state, in Joure."

"The boss himself," Doris said, and bowed. He moved quickly from behind his counter and brought a barstool. "Sit down, sir. The little gent is your guest?"

"He is, Doris," the chief constable said.

Doris brought up another stool. Cold beer foamed in tall glasses.

'To Friesland," the commissaris said.

'To Friesland," all the customers said loudly, too loudly, perhaps. The sudden silence was broken by the commissaris.

"My murder," the commissaris said.

"You still haven't got a clue," the chief constable said. "I know. Your theories are off. They'll be off for as long as you hang around here, but please stay if you like. We'll be as helpful as we can be. Haven't we been helpful? You must have noticed."

"Let me tell you about my murder," the commissaris said.

The chief constable lit the commissaris's cigar. "One of my men stumbled, I don't like to see that. I'll talk about it a little, maybe it'll relieve my feelings. Adjutant Oppenhuyzen, you've heard the name?"

"The kind colleague who lent his house to my detectives?"

"The very man," the chief constable said. "He's in charge of our Aliens Department. A good man at heart. But he's gone too far."

"Where did he go?" the commissaris asked.

'Two more, Doris," the chief constable said. "Oppen-huyzen can't say I didn't warn him. I don't mind Chinese, they have to be around too. I saw an exhibition of Chinese art a while ago, and I can't say I was not impressed."

"I like Taoism," the commissaris said. "That's Chinese too. It's about nothing. It says that nothing matters. That nothing has always been, will be forever, that our activity leads nowhere, that we never have to do more than nothing, that while we do nothing, nothing will be rediscovered. That's Chinese, I like that."

"Their cooking is good too," the chief constable said. "Mrs. Oppenhuyzen can't cook-I had dinner once at her house-perhaps that's why the adjutant is so fond of Chinese. But whatever his reason may be, his activity is unacceptable."

The commissaris's eyes didn't focus.

"Whatever my adjutant's motivation," the chief constable said, "I can't accept his supplying illegal aliens with papers. Complaints are reaching me from everywhere. Unsavory individuals cannot be sent out of the country because of my adjutant's good deeds. I'll just have to stop him."

'Tonight?" the commissaris asked.

"I had Oppenhuyzen followed," the chief constable said. "He'll be in Bolsward now, with his friend Wang, a restaurant owner. Wang is a fine old man, born and bred in Friesland, but you know how the Chinese work, they abuse their residents here, through their infamous Triads. Wang will be a member too, or he'll lose his venerable head. Tough types. We just had that battle on the dike."

"Gang warfare," the commissaris said. "Without survivors. Not a bad thing in itself, self-inflicted extermination, but does it have to happen here? While I am watching?" The commissaris blew ashes off his sleeve. "I found the sight somewhat upsetting."

"I couldn't agree more," the chief constable said. "All Oppenhuyzen's fault."

'The adjutant is handing out resident papers in Bolsward?"

"For the very last time," the chief constable said. "Doris, I'll have my check. I'll be meeting my men at headquarters now. We'll be taking four cars and a bus. All suspects to be arrested, and Oppenhuyzen on indefinite leave."

"The more elegant solution," the commissaris said. "We don't want an inquiry by Central Detection. That's really endless trouble. It gets into the papers, too. I've been through that. My wife didn't like it, either."

"You'll be losing your way again," the chief constable said. "Would you like me to get someone to direct you? Anything at all, just specify your request."

"I'll be going with you to Bolsward," the commissaris said.

The Volvo, lead car of the convoy, sped through the quiet night. The chief constable handled the wheel in silence. His noble profile expressed powerful activity. He concentrated on the job ahead.

"I'm not saying," the commissaris said, "that my method is in any way scientific, but we do develop intuition in our line of work, and everything else having failed, I've allowed myself to listen to the inner voice. Not entirely without reason, as you may safely assume. Do I really overreact if I find a connection between Scherjoen's death and his native soil? The man's existence in Friesland was blackened by evil. I haven't been able to interview anyone who had a good word for Douwe. If I keep stumbling along in my chosen direction, I just have to trip over the killer."

"I don't like doing this," the chief constable said. "Oppenhuyzen is essentially a good man, and he's been tortured by excruciating nerve pains. There seems to be no cure for his ailment."

"Weakness," the commissaris said, "attracts evil. I do have four suspects. Three men weakened by greed, and a lady whose very lovingness may have made her slide into darkness. In a way I favor Mem, because if she committed evil she meant it for good."

"Lately I have suffered from toothache," the chief constable said. "When it hurts, I'm not myself. My poor adjutant has been in pain for years, although at times he seems to have fought it successfully. He sometimes seems at peace."

The radio came to life. "Sir, next turn off the highway and then a sharp right will take us to the new quarter. The restaurant faces the boulevard."

"What did he have to gain?" the chief constable asked. "Free cognac and expensive cigars? He paid for that trip to Singapore himself, I'm fairly sure. Or are things worse than I dare to think? A bank account in Switzerland, maybe? I hope we won't be turning up any hidden surprises."

"Sir?" the radio said. "Next block. We'll be hanging back now. There are no exits on the side. If we set ourselves up at the rear of the restaurant, we can catch them if they try to escape."

"Very well," the chief constable said. "Prepare your weapons. No hesitation while arresting the subjects. I want the crew of car number two to back me up. All others watch the rear."

"Understood," four voices answered.

The shopping center was guarded by two high apartment buildings. The Volvo parked. The commissaris got out. He waved at a passing Deux Chevaux, of a bright orange color. The occupant waved back.

De Gier got out of the Deux Chevaux. The commissaris introduced the sergeant. "A coincidence?" the chief constable said. "Will you be coming with us?"

"If you please," de Gier said.

"I was addressing your chief," the chief constable said. "I'd rather have you wait outside. You can expect Chinese suspects. The two men over there are mine, and the two over there are mine too. Please introduce yourself to them. I'm a little short of time now."

The chief constable walked into the restaurant, followed by the commissaris. There were no clients seated at the tables, but young Chinese surrounded the bar.