Free Tumbleweed by Janwillem van de Wetering Page A

sailing during the afternoon and we listened to music during the evening. I'll give you their names and addresses if you like."
    "Please," the commissaris said.
    Drachtsma scribbled on a page of his notebook, a leather-bound notebook which came from his inside pocket. He tore out the page and gave it to the commissaris.
    "Would you mind telling us what your relationship with Mrs. van Buren was?" the commissaris asked.
    "She was my mistress."
    "I see. I wonder if you could give us some details about the lady's life. Somebody killed her and he must have had a good reason. If we know who the lady was we may know who killed her."
    "Yes," Drachtsma said. "I would also like to know who killed her. She didn't suffer, did she?"
    "I don't think so. She was killed from the back and the knife went right in. She probably died immediately without knowing what had happened to her."
    "Good," Drachtsma said.
    The three policemen were watching him.
    "Please tell us," the commissaris said.
    "Ah. I am sorry. I was thinking about Maria. What can I tell you? I knew her when she was still married, her husband runs a textile plant which is part of the organization I work for. I met her at a party and I think I fell in love with her. She had her own boat and we would meet on the lakes. She got a divorce."
    "I am sorry," the commissaris said, "but I will have to ask personal questions, I hope you don't mine the presence of my two assistants. They are charged with the investigation of this murder and I like them to be part of its various stages."
    "That's all right," Drachtsma said, and smiled at the two detectives. The smile was pleasant. Drachtsma knew how to handle the lower echelons.
    "Why didn't you marry Maria van Buren?" the commissaris asked.
    "I didn't want to marry her," Drachtsma said, "besides, I was married already. I have a son and a daughter and they are very fond of their mother. I am fond of their mother myself. And I don't think Maria would have married me. She liked her privacy. I bought a houseboat for her because she liked being on the water. At that time her boat was the only one in that part of the Schinkel River. There are a lot of boats around her now and I often suggested that she should move but she got used to living there."
    "If she was your mistress living on your boat I presume that you were sending her a monthly check."
    "I was," Drachtsma said.
    "Did you know that she had other lovers?"
    "Yes. I didn't mind. I always telephoned before I came to see her and she would telephone me at my office."
    "I hope you don't mind my saying so," the commissaris said gently, "but you don't seem upset at her death."
    There was no answer.
    "You don't mind that she is dead?"
    "It is a fact now, isn't it?" Drachtsma asked. "I can't change it. Everything comes to an end."
    The blunt statement took some wind out of the commissaris' sails and it was a little while before the conversation found its course again.
    "The knife," the commissaris said, "worries me. I have it here, let me show it to you."
    Drachtsma handled the knife." A fighting knife," he said thoughtfully.
    "Do you know what sort of a knife it is?" Grijpstra asked suddenly.
    Drachtsma turned and looked Grijpstra in the eyes. "Yes," he said, "it is a British commando knife."
    "Very few people would know how to throw such a knife, I think," the commissaris said hesitantly.
    "I think I can throw it," Drachtsma said. "We were trained with knives like this during the war. I had one when I landed in France and I killed a German with it."
    "Would you know anyone who knew Mrs. van Buren and who could throw a knife like that?"
    "No," Drachtsma said. "With the exception of myself," he added almost immediately.
    "Would you know anyone who wanted her dead?"
    "No," Drachtsma said again. "I don't think she had any enemies, and her lovers weren't jealous. I think she had only three, including myself, and one of them I know personally, an American colonel called Stewart. The other man is a