Free The Maine Massacre by Janwillem van de Wetering

"Other way around, sergeant. It fits in a way. Take the boots."
    The commissaris stepped out of his boots and began to rummage about. It didn't take long. He came back. "These boots fit. What do you think about the coat, sergeant? Not that it matters, I'll take it anyway."
    "Yes," the sergeant said. "Very nice." It was a hooded navy coat, heavily lined. The commissaris' thin, small face peeped out of the hood. The sergeant looked away.
    "All right. How do I look? I wasn't so nice to you just now. You can tell me the truth, Rinus. How do I look? You can laugh too if you like. I am sure I look perfectly ridiculous."
    "You look like a movie star, sir."
    "A comic character. A Marx Brother? Chaplin? My favorite? Buster Keaton?"
    "No, sir."
    "Who? Be honest, Rinus. You may not have another chance for a while."
    "Walt Disney character, sir. Out of Snow White."
    "A dwarf? Smiley? Grumpy? The fellow who sneezes?"
    "Dopey, sir."
    The commissaris clapped his hands. There were just the two of them between die racks. The girl was waiting behind the counter for them to come out.
    "Exactly. Well seen, sergeant. That's exactly how I feel and no doubt how I look. We are always the projection of what we think. Dopey. Here I am, with the puzzle of a lifetime staring me in the face. How many corpses? I made notes last night. If I read them I'll remember again. Five, I believe. This is America. Do you know that we get one real corpse every two months in Amsterdam? The others are accidents, suicides. These corpses are part of some web, a spider's web, with threads going everywhere, probably right into this store. But they are transparent and thin, although not quite invisible, I am sure. We'll find them if we apply the usual tested methods and persevere. And then there is this incredibly beautiful setting. I am not just referring to the landscape, sergeant. There's far more to it. You should have seen the car that picked me up yesterday, an elegant car. Who says there is no elegance in America? We've been misinformed. I have been anyway. Perhaps you know more, you read a great deal. What am I telling you anyway? You were flown in on a special jet. Did you see the two men who passed us in the street just now? They had guns on their belts, big revolvers. It's lawful here to carry arms. Even the police don't show their arms anymore in Amsterdam. Our pistols are hidden under tunics and coats. If you touch your gun, sergeant, you are expected to write a report and I have to countersign it."
    "Yes, sir."
    "All very well, of course. Our society functions in a way. But I have been thinking about other societies, and their possibilities, and here we seem to have die superb example of everything we haven't got. A bay. Hills. Mountains even. Gun-toters. Corpses. Lawmen in outdated uniforms. And you, of all people to pop up here, in that hat."
    "Yes, sir."
    "And I have to sell a house. There's nothing I can do here, sergeant, and there's nothing I will do either. I'll sell the house and go back and see what Grijpstra has been doing. A corpse in the canal, no doubt, some young man who uses drugs and had an argument with a friend and they poked at each other with knives. No identification, so we'll search about for a week and get a dozen well-trained detectives on the job and turn up all sorts of other misdemeanors that will interest other specialists. And meanwhile this has been going on here. Five corpses. Or six? I forget."
    "One of them is your brother-in-law, sir."
    The commissaris stopped waving his arms. "Yes, sergeant, thank you. I hardly knew the man, of course, and I suspect that my sister is quite pleased about the whole thing, since she can go back to Holland now. If I can sell the house. I'll pay that young lady and we can go and have coffee and see the real estate agent. You'll have to carry your coat. Didn't you bring any warm clothes at all?"
    "No, sir. I don't have any. Just a short coat. I never had a hat."
    "Neither did I. I always hated