The Rattle-Rat (25 page)

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T
HE
CHIEF CONSTABLE WAS
ABOUT TO GET INTO HIS
CAR.
"Hello, Mr. Lasius of Burmania," the commissaris said. "I came to report on our inquiry, about how we're doing—or
not
doing, to put it correctly."

"Hello," the chief constable said. "Care to join me? I'm off to the pub. I'll be doing something useful later on, but there's some time to fill pleasantly." He checked his watch.
"About an hour."

The commissaris made himself comfortable in the new Volvo. "Some good action tonight?"

"Unfortunately." The chief constable frowned. "Internal trouble that's beginning to stink up the outside. A rotten apple in my basket."

"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.

"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.

"Police," the chief constable said loudly. "Checking your residence permits. Your papers, please."

The Chinese in the rear backed off, and the Chinese in front approached, running around the chief constable and the commissaris. They came back again, trying to get away from the policemen now appearing at both sides of the large room. One man remained at the bar, neither young nor Chinese, a fairly heavy man with a rather red face. He wore a tweed suit. "Evening," the man said.

"Evening, Adjutant," the chief constable said. "I had hoped not to find you here. Stay where you are, never mind what goes on."

Behind the bar, an old Chinese smiled at the confusion.
The commissaris slipped behind the counter. The old Chinese offered his hand. The commissaris shook it. "Wang," the Chinese said.

"A good evening to you, Mr. Wang."

The young Chinese were shouting at the policemen.

"What are they saying?" the commissaris asked.

"'Rotten egg,'" Mr. Wang said.

The young Chinese made fast beating and kicking movements,
turned rapidly on their own axles, breathed sharply in and out. The policemen were quiet behind their drawn guns.

"What are they doing?" the commissaris asked.

"Gymnastics," Mr. Wang said. "Karate. Like in the movies.
You know that type of movie?
'Sah! Tohl Wah!'"

"I hardly ever go to the movies," the commissaris said.

"They say that when they fight," Mr. Wang said. He
blew and hummed simultaneously. "Never heard that sort of sound? They do that too, when participants close in on each other."

The young Chinese were humming and blowing.

"And where does that get them?" the commissaris asked.

"When they do it in the movies," Mr. Wang said, "they're paid."

"You're under arrest," the chief constable said loudly.
"All of you, turn to the wall and put your hands behind your necks. Right away. Hop."

"Hop isn't here," Mr. Wang said.

"Your Dutch is impeccable," the commissaris said.

"I was born here," Mr. Wang said. "I don't want to be Chinese anymore. I prefer to be nothing."

"Weren't you nothing from the beginning?" the commissaris asked.

Wang reached for a bottle of cognac and two glasses. "Are you a Buddhist?"

"You're not right in the head," the commissaris said. "A Buddhist is something. Why should I be anything at all?"

Wang poured the drinks. He gave the commissaris a glass.
"I beg your pardon. Your very good health."

"I beg your pardon too," the commissaris said.
"Your
very good health."

The chief constable was accepting the weapons found on the young Chinese. "Would you like a bag?" Mr. Wang asked.
Two revolvers, a pistol, and sue knives were pushed into a white plastic sack. The chief constable put the bag on the counter and looked at Adjutant Oppenhuyzen. He put out his hand. "Your weapon, too, and your identification. Apply for leave in writing. It'll be granted, for the rest of your years, forever, amen, Adjutant."

Oppenhuyzen gave him the requested objects.

"Go," the chief constable said, "and never be seen again."

Oppenhuyzen smiled inanely, pushed himself off his stool, said "Good evening" dreamily, and wandered to the door.

De Gier came in after the suspects had been led out. Eddy rested on the sergeant's hands.

"Away," the chief constable said. De Gier turned about.
"Not you," the chief constable said. "I meant the rat. What's a dead rat doing here? Did you find him outside?"

De Gier turned about again. He offered the rat to the commissaris.

"For me?" the commissaris asked.

"For Douwe, sir. Didn't Cardozo say Douwe still needed
a gift to present to your suspects?"

"Would you like a bag?" Mr. Wang asked.

Eddy was shoved into white plastic.

"Friend of yours?" Mr. Wang asked.

"Yes," the commissaris said. "Sergeant de Gier. He'll go far, I keep thinking."

"I meant the rat," Mr. Wang said.

"In a way," the commissaris said. "I haven't known him U that long, and I already have a friend, a turtle, who lives in my rear garden. I rather prefer quiet friends. Eddy liked to rattle. I didn't take to the sound."

The young Chinese were shouting on the parking lot.
"'Rotten egg,'" Mr. Wang said. "Their conversation is monotonous. I hope to be without it for a while."

"Coming?" the chief constable asked the commissaris.

"I should go back to Amsterdam," the commissaris said.
"Rinus, you take me. Cardozo has my car. And then you can drive back to Friesland. You'll be off tomorrow again, and can sleep late."

The commissaris thanked the chief constable for the
adventure and Mr. Wang for his hospitality. He carried Eddy in his bag to the Deux Chevaux.