loving a soul..."
"That Mauser," the commissaris said. "I had a look at the weapon found in Scherjoen's car. Wicked looking, it seemed to me. Quite antique now, but in shape rather similar to our present automatic arms. Amazing construction, all the parts fit like a Chinese puzzle."
"But it hadn't been fired, sir, I hear."
"Loaded," the commissaris said. "Nine-millimeter, ten cartridges. Deadly. Yes."
"Tins has nothing to do with me," de Gier said, "but Mem Scherjoen? Such a dear elderly lady? Her own husband? And burn the fellow afterward?"
"Where was she that night?" the commissaris asked.
"Haven't asked her yet, sir. The lieutenant said he would find out."
"I once arrested a dear old lady," the commissaris said. "She had lived fifty years with a most miserable scoundrel. The miser lived in splendor, and the missus scrubbed the marble floors of his mansion. If she spent too much time under the shower, he would turn off the water. She throttled him one evening. They were both in their eighties."
"You dumped the old lady in a cell?" de Gier asked.
"I stretched the investigation a little," the commissaris said, "while she stayed at home. In the end she was diagnosed as irresponsibly senile. With her husband's money we were able to place her in a most comfortable home. Every Christmas she sent me choice chocolate pie and I would take it back to her so that we could eat it together."
The telephone rang. Grijpstra answered, listened solemnly, and replaced the receiver.
"Bad news, Adjutant?"
"Lieutenant Sudema, sir. Mrs. Scherjoen did spend that night in Amsterdam. She was staying with her sister, a Miss Terpstra. Returned the night after the murder."
"Lieutenant Sudema interrogated Mrs. Scherjoen?"
"His wife did, sir. Gyske Sudema. She's friendly with Mem Scherjoen. Mrs. Scherjoen was never allowed to leave her house, as Scherjoen wanted her to be waiting for him whenever he happened to come home, but she did manage to get away from time to time."
"Do I smell pea soup?" the commissaris asked.
De Gier filled a bowl. The commissaris ate, kept company by Eddy, whose snout lay flat on the kitchen table, between his pink paws. He rattled fondly.
"Asthmatic?" the commissaris asked.
De Gier picked up the rat and listened to the mysterious sounds. "I would think it's in his belly."
The commissaris listened too. "No, I think it's from his chest."
The doorbell rang. De Gier opened the door. "Hylkje, how nice to see you. Come in and join us."
"No time now, I'm only here to deliver the lieutenant's list of suspects." The corporal stamped her booted foot. "Bah, I'm running late. Two collisions here in the city. I'm State Police, but the civilians can't see the difference in uniform. And the Municipal Police are nowhere to be found again. I had to write the reports. Stupid civilians!"
A small girl ran toward the corporal. "Officer?"
"Yes?" Hylkje asked grimly.
'See that man there, he's watering against my father's car."
"Shouldn't he be?"
"He does that every evening, he makes me mad."
"Dear little girl," the corporal said sweetly. "Leave that poor man be."
The little girl pummeled the corporal's thigh. "Please, officer, please?"
"I'm tired," Hylkje said.
"One moment," de Gier said and ran off. He came back with the man, who was buttoning up bis fly. The man was explaining his misdemeanor as the result of a small bladder.
"And you always pick that particular car?" de Gier asked. "Tell you what, sir. The corporal will take care of you for a moment. I'll be right back."
The commissaris came to the door and was introduced by Grijpstra. He shook Hylkje's hand. He also shook the suspect's hand.
De Gier joined them. "They're on their way."
A squad car drove into the street. "It's you?" the policemen asked the commissaris. "Would you like us to take you somewhere again, or was it you who was pissing?"
"Small bladder," the suspect explained.
"You can take me to your headquarters," the commissaris said, "but perhaps
"That Mauser," the commissaris said. "I had a look at the weapon found in Scherjoen's car. Wicked looking, it seemed to me. Quite antique now, but in shape rather similar to our present automatic arms. Amazing construction, all the parts fit like a Chinese puzzle."
"But it hadn't been fired, sir, I hear."
"Loaded," the commissaris said. "Nine-millimeter, ten cartridges. Deadly. Yes."
"Tins has nothing to do with me," de Gier said, "but Mem Scherjoen? Such a dear elderly lady? Her own husband? And burn the fellow afterward?"
"Where was she that night?" the commissaris asked.
"Haven't asked her yet, sir. The lieutenant said he would find out."
"I once arrested a dear old lady," the commissaris said. "She had lived fifty years with a most miserable scoundrel. The miser lived in splendor, and the missus scrubbed the marble floors of his mansion. If she spent too much time under the shower, he would turn off the water. She throttled him one evening. They were both in their eighties."
"You dumped the old lady in a cell?" de Gier asked.
"I stretched the investigation a little," the commissaris said, "while she stayed at home. In the end she was diagnosed as irresponsibly senile. With her husband's money we were able to place her in a most comfortable home. Every Christmas she sent me choice chocolate pie and I would take it back to her so that we could eat it together."
The telephone rang. Grijpstra answered, listened solemnly, and replaced the receiver.
"Bad news, Adjutant?"
"Lieutenant Sudema, sir. Mrs. Scherjoen did spend that night in Amsterdam. She was staying with her sister, a Miss Terpstra. Returned the night after the murder."
"Lieutenant Sudema interrogated Mrs. Scherjoen?"
"His wife did, sir. Gyske Sudema. She's friendly with Mem Scherjoen. Mrs. Scherjoen was never allowed to leave her house, as Scherjoen wanted her to be waiting for him whenever he happened to come home, but she did manage to get away from time to time."
"Do I smell pea soup?" the commissaris asked.
De Gier filled a bowl. The commissaris ate, kept company by Eddy, whose snout lay flat on the kitchen table, between his pink paws. He rattled fondly.
"Asthmatic?" the commissaris asked.
De Gier picked up the rat and listened to the mysterious sounds. "I would think it's in his belly."
The commissaris listened too. "No, I think it's from his chest."
The doorbell rang. De Gier opened the door. "Hylkje, how nice to see you. Come in and join us."
"No time now, I'm only here to deliver the lieutenant's list of suspects." The corporal stamped her booted foot. "Bah, I'm running late. Two collisions here in the city. I'm State Police, but the civilians can't see the difference in uniform. And the Municipal Police are nowhere to be found again. I had to write the reports. Stupid civilians!"
A small girl ran toward the corporal. "Officer?"
"Yes?" Hylkje asked grimly.
'See that man there, he's watering against my father's car."
"Shouldn't he be?"
"He does that every evening, he makes me mad."
"Dear little girl," the corporal said sweetly. "Leave that poor man be."
The little girl pummeled the corporal's thigh. "Please, officer, please?"
"I'm tired," Hylkje said.
"One moment," de Gier said and ran off. He came back with the man, who was buttoning up bis fly. The man was explaining his misdemeanor as the result of a small bladder.
"And you always pick that particular car?" de Gier asked. "Tell you what, sir. The corporal will take care of you for a moment. I'll be right back."
The commissaris came to the door and was introduced by Grijpstra. He shook Hylkje's hand. He also shook the suspect's hand.
De Gier joined them. "They're on their way."
A squad car drove into the street. "It's you?" the policemen asked the commissaris. "Would you like us to take you somewhere again, or was it you who was pissing?"
"Small bladder," the suspect explained.
"You can take me to your headquarters," the commissaris said, "but perhaps
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