Janwillem De Wetering - The Rattle-Rat

"They will," the commissaris said.

"And if you help the other one, we'll all be doing what we can."

"Absolutely," the commissaris said. "I'll start working on that at once."

De Gier let go of his book, swung his legs off the couch, and grinned at Grypstra and Cardozo.

"Dinnertime," Grypstra said. "Cardozo is hungry too."

De Gier covered his eyes with both hands.

"Food!" Grypstra shouted.

"Food?" Cardozo whined.

De Gier was back on the couch. "I'm so slow. Why didn't I understand?"

"Go on," Grypstra said. "Serve dinner. We worked all day. We've been looking forward to dinner all the way up the dike."

"Of course," de Gier said. He held up the book. "This woman, who calls herself Martha, also wants to kill her men, and at times she does it, too. All her stories have the same basic subject, and I kept wondering what could be at the bottom of all her troubles."

"No sole," Grypstra said. "No noodles with tomato stew, no mussel soup. Not the same thing over and over again. An Eastern dish this time, I thought."

"With a hot sauce," Cardozo said. "We earned a good meal. We were at it again all day while you were sitting on your butt."

"And this Martha," de Gier said, Is considerably more intelligent than all the men she's married to in her tales, but because they only make her slave, her intelligence hardly shows. The men fart around and then they show up at home and force her to do heavy work, and whatever she comes up with isn't good enough. She has no chance of ever accomplishing anything, so she doesn't, and they aren't pleased and yell at her."

The doorbell rang. De Gier threw the book down and went to the corridor.

"Evening," the commissaris said. "I had a hard day. I'm sure you prepared a tasty meal. You can bring me a drink first. Why do you look so sleepy? Have you been napping all day again? The house is a mess."

"But it wasn't Mem," de Gier said. "If I had finished Martha's stories earlier on, I might have accused Mem. These Marthas don't really kill their husbands, they escape into fantasizing. In the future they just might kill us, but under present conditions they still depend on us. Or they think they do, which comes down to the same thing. Poor souls."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the commissaris said from the recliner, "and frankly I don't care. Can I have that drink?"

"No drinks," de Gier said. "No dinner. The stores are closed. Anyone care for a Chinese meal?"

Cardozo shuddered.

"Nothing Chinese for poor Cardozo," the commissaris said. "He might be reminded. Whip something up, Sergeant, it's the very least you can do."

"The kitchen is cleaned out, sir. I thought the case was all wrapped up."

"You can't know that," the commissaris said.

"De Gier has been working on the sly," Grypstra said. "I suspected that from the beginning. Against my strict orders. He's had all sorts of help, too. Hylkje couldn't do enough for him. The sergeant has been slithering in and out of the local scene and has kept all available information for himself."

"You mean you still don't know?" de Gier asked.

"I want dinner," Grijpstra said.

"And you?" de Gier asked Cardozo. "You're still after your sheep-buying sheik? What was his name? Hussain bin Allah?"

"I want dinner too," Cardozo said.

"My treat," the commissaris said. "At the first place we find, but it can't take long, for I still have to go somewhere."

"It's not too hard to find," de Gier said, pulling french fries from a paper bag. "You head for Dokkum, turn at Britsum, and make sure you don't miss Ee and Metslawier."

"You don't know where I'm going," the commissaris said.

"What's de Gier saying?" Cardozo asked, chewing his hard-boiled egg.

"He's speaking Frisian again," Grijpstra said, pulling plastic wrap off boiled meat. "He's linguistic."

"I learned some good Frisian last night," de Gier said. "Poetic too. Hylkje taught me. She acted it out, too. Want to hear?"

"Showoff," Grijpstra said, then turned to Cardozo. "I hope you see that now. He's not a good model for you. Real heroes never have to show they are special."

"And he wouldn't even cook us a meal," Cardozo said. "How could I ever want to imitate him? He really fell through on this case. He blinded me for too long. This egg is old."

The commissaris paid. "Got to go now."

De Gier followed him. "You'll lose you way, sir. It'll be dark in a moment, and all those dikes look alike."

"Come along, then," the commissaris said.

The commissaris looked over his shoulder. "Another Land Rover." His fists hit his knees. "Ouch. No. I won't have it. Get rid of them, de Gier. You're a good driver. Let's see what you can do."

De Gier stopped just before the village of Metslawier. The Land Rover parked ahead. "Evening," the sergeant said.

"I know the way," de Gier said. "I swear."

The sergeant saluted and marched off. "Well?" the corporal in the Land Rover asked.

"A legend doesn't have to be true."

The corporal, a man from The Hague, recently transferred but able to speak Frisian quite well by now, said that legends must be true, just because they are legends. "You're a religious type, aren't you?"

"Like any Frisian," the sergeant said.

"So they must be lost. Your faith supports you in believing they are. We showed them the way. We'll tell all the colleagues, and they'll all be happy."

"I was happy before this came up," the sergeant said, "and I'm still happy. Policemen from below the dike are morons, whether they've lost the way or not."

"I just wanted you to keep on being happy," the corporal said. "This is paradise, is it not? As soon as doubt comes up, we have to crush it."

"You haven't lost your way here yet?" the commissaris asked in the Citroen.

"No," de Gier said, "but then it was all made easy for me.

"Because you weren't in on it?"

De Gier took the turn toward Ee. "A little question, sir. Did you intentionally place me in an outside position?"

"Now whatever makes you think that?" the commissaris asked. "Don't put me on a pedestal, how many times haven't I said that to you? You've always wanted to change me into a legend, but legends are always lies. Sane doubt, Sergeant, will serve you better than creating idols to populate your little heaven."

"I don't believe you," de Gier said. "Whatever you do has to be intentional. You push someone out and he immediately starts to prove himself, and since he isn't part of the team, he has to approach the problem from a different angle, as you wanted him to."

"And I'm admiring the proceedings of that free individual?" the commissaris asked. "Stop carrying on so, Sergeant. Have I, anywhere during this inquiry, asked you what you might be doing?"

"You didn't have to," de Gier said. "You're a good observer."

"There you go again," the commissaris said, "although it's true that we are now both headed in the right direction."

"Before we get there," de Gier said, "you might give in. Talk to me now, and you'll be in a better position when you try to trap the man. But maybe you don't need to give your game away now. Are you still testing me?"

The commissaris stared sadly at low houses clinging to the dike. "Who is the Frisian here? Don't be stubborn, Sergeant. I'm not testing you in any way. All I want to do is meet with the suspect and get back to Amsterdam to see if I can get some rest."

"Ha," de Gier said. "The suspect can't be arrested. We'll be grabbing thin air. Isn't this a wasted trip, sir?"

"Now why can't we grab Adjutant Oppenhuyzen?" The commissaris smashed a nonexistent fly between his hands. "We'll make him confess, that's easy enough, contact the Super Police in The Hague, and Central Detection will be here in a jiffy and nab him. True?"