Free Death of a Hawker by Janwillem van de Wetering Page B

now, droning the words.
    "Shit," de Gier said and pressed the bell.
    Esther opened the door.
    "You," Esther said. "Sergeant Rinus de Gier."
    De Gier tried to smile.
    "Come in, sergeant."
    Esther looked better. There was color on her face again and she had made up her lips.
    "I am having something to eat. Would you care to join me, sergeant?"
    "Please."
    She led the way to the kitchen. He was given a plate of soup, hot tomato soup from a tin. De Gier didn't like tomato soup and never ate the bloody-looking fluid but he didn't mind now. She cut him a piece of bread and there were gherkins on the table and olives, and a piece of blue-veined cheese. He ate it all while Esther watched him.
    "We can have coffee upstairs."
    He hadn't said anything during the meal and now he merely nodded.
    "A nice room," de Gier said, from the deep low chair Esther had directed him to, "and you have a lot of books."
    Esther waved at the two walls covered by bookcases. "A thousand books and I have learned nothing from them. The piano has been of more use to me."
    He got up and walked toward the baby grand. An etude by Chopin was lying on the stand and he put a hand on the keyboard and picked away, trying to read the notes.
    "That's very nice," Esther said. "Do you play often?"
    "No. I had piano lessons as a child but I switched to the flute. I play with Grijpstra, the adjutant you met today."
    "What does he play?"
    "Drums," he said and grinned. "Someone left a set of drums in our office at Headquarters, years ago now, we have forgotten why, but Grijpstra remembered that he played drums once and started again and I found my flute. It's a silly combination perhaps but we manage."
    "But that's beautiful," Esther said. "Why shouldn't drums and flute go together. I'd love to hear you play. I could play with you too. Why don't you both come one evening and we can try?"
    "It's free music," he said. "We have some themes we use, church music mostly, sixteenth and seventeenth century, but then we go off and we play anything. Trills and bangs."
    "I'II fit in somehow," Esther said confidently.
    He laughed. "O.K. I'll ask Grijpstra."
    "What else do you do?" Esther asked.
    "I fuss with my cat and I try to do my job. Like tonight. I've come to ask you questions. If you don't mind, of course. I'll come back tomorrow if you mind."
    She sat down on the piano stool. "Right, sergeant, go ahead. I feel better now, better than I did this afternoon. I have even slept for an hour. Maybe one shouldn't sleep when one's brother has been murdered, but it seemed the best thing to do. He was my last relative, I am alone now. We are Jewish. Jews think that families are very important; perhaps we are wrong. People are alone, it's better to realize the truth. I never had much contact with Abe, no real contact.
    You are alone, too, aren't you?"
    "Yes."
    "You understand perhaps."
    "Perhaps. Did your brother have a weapon in his room, a funny weapon? Something with a studded ball at its end, a weapon which can be swung?"
    "A good-day?" Esther asked. "You mean that medieval weapon? I know what it is. It is often described in Dutch literature and in history. I took history at university, Dutch history, murder and manslaughter through the ages. Nothing changes."
    "Yes, a good-day."
    "No, there was no weapon in Abe's room. He used to carry a gun, a Luger I think it was, but he threw it into the canal years ago. He said it no longer fitted his philosophy."
    Esther fumbled in her handbag. "Here, I found this, his passport and a notebook."
    He looked through the passport and saw visas for Czechoslovakia, Rumania and Poland. There were also entry and exit stamps from Tunisia and Morocco. The notebook contained names and telephone numbers.
    "A hundred names," he said. "Too many to investigate. Any close friends? Boyfriends? Girlfriends?"
    "Girls," Esther said. "Just girls. Lots and lots and lots. Two a day sometimes, more even. It disgusted me to see them trooping in and out. Last Sunday he had