Free DeKok and the Sorrowing Tomcat by Albert Cornelis Baantjer

interruption, made an angry gesture.
    â€œYes, well, the building people hung it there.” His voice was irritated. “It wouldn’t have been my choice.”
    DeKok’s eyebrows rippled briefly, almost unnoticeably. The Commissaris could not suppress a quick, startled look.
    â€œYou don’t appreciate it?” asked DeKok.
    The Commissaris moved in his chair.
    â€œMonet was,” said the Commissaris, “to the best of my knowledge, an impressionist. I don’t like impressionists.” He aimed his penetrating look at DeKok and continued: “Look at the painting,” he pontificated, “impressions are always vague, unclear. They form a nebulous territory, a territory in which an inspector can easily get lost.”
    â€œI have the feeling,” grinned DeKok, “that you are trying to tell me something.”
    The Commissaris nodded.
    â€œThat feeling is correct, DeKok. I just want to convey to you that, if it’s your impression that those responsible for the B&G hold-up, should be found within the company, rather than outside of the company, you are indulging in a strictly personal impression. That’s all.”
    DeKok lowered his head.
    â€œThat’s all,” he repeated calmly. Then: “I have a strong suspicion that you’ve been approached by Mr. Bent.”
    The Commissaris coughed discreetly.
    â€œIndeed,” he said reluctantly. “Mr. Bent called me last night. He is seriously upset about your behavior, the behavior of both of you, you and Vledder. Especially the sarcastic tone of young Vledder offended him deeply. It struck him as extremely unpleasant.”
    DeKok grinned broadly. His grin was irresistible. It transformed his somewhat melancholy face into one of boyish delight. It was one of his most attractive features. But the Commissaris remained unaffected.
    â€œWell … well,” said DeKok in a mocking tone of voice, “Mr. Bent has been deeply offended. He was struck unpleasantly. How would he have preferred to be struck?”
    The commissarial face assumed a disapproving look.
    â€œYou know very well what I mean.” His tone was sharp.
    DeKok shrugged his shoulders.
    â€œMr. Bent has no grounds for complaints,” he answered calmly. “Vledder’s remarks were completely justified.”
    The Commissaris made a negating gesture.
    â€œJustified, or … not justified,” his voice took on the affected speech of the consummate civil servant, became sententious. “Civil servants, servants of the public,” he continued, “must, under all circumstances behave themselves according to common courtesy.” He gave DeKok another penetrating look. “By the way,” he asked, “where’s Vledder? He wasn’t here, this morning.”
    DeKok rose from his chair and stared somberly at nothing at all. He did not answer. He wanted to spare the old man an outburst of anger. He really did not dislike his chief. Regardless of the many differences of opinion, he actually liked the old man.
    â€œWhere is Vledder?” repeated the Commissaris. His voice was suspicious.
    DeKok swallowed.
    â€œHe … eh, he’s gone to Seadike.”
    â€œWHAT!?”
    DeKok slinked from the room. From a distance he could still hear the tirade of the Commissaris, although he had closed the door of the office behind him.
    *   *   *
    DeKok would have been surprised if he had seen the gently smiling face of the Commissaris at that moment. DeKok might be a master at manipulating people, but that did not mean that Commissaris had reached his present, exalted rank without being able to do his fair share of manipulating himself.
    True, the Chief was constantly irritated with DeKok’s irreverent attitude to authority. But he was also keenly aware that DeKok was the most successful detective on the force. He always solved his cases. Sometimes he did not solve them to the