Free Tumbleweed by Janwillem van de Wetering Page B

Belgian. I have met him at a party but only for a few seconds; he seemed a very careful polished type, not at all the sort of man who would throw a knife into a woman's back."
    "We have already questioned the two gentlemen," the commissaris said.
    "I suppose they both have alibis?"
    The commissaris ignored the question. "Just one more thing, Mr. Drachtsma," he said, "would you mind telling us how much you paid Mrs. van Buren?"
    "Twenty-five thousand a year," Drachtsma said. "I was going to pay her a little more because of inflation. She never asked for money."
    "Any extras?"
    "Yes, I have bought her some jewelry and clothes and twice a year I would give her a ticket to. Her parents live near Willemstad."
    "Did you ever go with her?"
    "I have little time," Drachtsma said. "The only island I really like is Schiermonnikoog."
    "Thank you," the commissaris said, and briskly rubbed his hands. "The final question: we found that Mrs. van Buren was interested in plants and herbs. I wonder if..." He didn't finish the question.
    "Plants," Drachtsma said, and began to laugh. "Yes, I know about her plants. She always took me to special little shops where medicinal herbs are sold and she used to read a lot about her weeds as well. It was a source of irritation to me for often she would talk about herbs all night, and I didn't visit her to hear about herbs. We had a few fights about it and I have threatened to leave her if she wouldn't give up her silly witchcraft, but it was an empty statement, I don't think she would have cared if I had left her. She was a strong woman."
    "A strong woman who got killed," the commissaris said. "Thank you, Mr. Drachtsma, I hope we won't have to bother you again."
    "I don't think anybody could rattle fern," Grijpstra said after Mr. Drachtsma had left.
    "We'll see," the commissaris said quietly. "He is a Frisian, and Frisians have strong heads. And he isn't the only Frisian in the world. Weren't you born in the North, Grijpstra?"
    "I was, sir, in Harlingen."
    "I was born in Franeker," the commissaris said.
    "One should never underestimate the provincials," de Gier said.

7
    " G o ON, HIT HIM!" GRIJPSTRA SAID.
    De Gier stepped back, coolly eyed his opponent, and hit him. He rubbed his hand while the coffee machine obediently released a paper cup which had got stuck somewhere in its mysterious insides and filled it with a foaming thick liquid.
    "Now it hasn't got enough water," Grijpstra said disgustedly. "Why can't we have a proper canteen like the one we used to have, with a nice elderly sergeant behind the bar who would forget to ask you for money sometimes?"
    "We have run out of nice elderly sergeants," de Gier said. Grijpstra poured the contents of his paper cup into the plastic waste basket and began to look through his pockets.
    "I have run out of cigarettes."
    There's another machine," de Gier said. "Put two guilders into it and push the button of your choice."
    Grijpstra snarled at the machine. "No," he said. "I did it yesterday and it ate my two guilders and gave me nothing."
    "You should have looked for the man; he has a key."
    "The man," Grijpstra said. "What man?"
    "The little fellow with the goat beard and the gray dustcoat. He is always scuttling about in the corridors."
    "Not when / need him. I am going out to the shop. What shall we do while we wait for our friend Holman? We have more than an hour."
    De Gier was combing his curls and observing his face in a mirror. He didn't answer.
    "Beautiful man," Grijpstra said. "I am talking to you. In fact I am asking you a question."
    "More than an hour," de Gier repeated, "an hour full of opportunities. An hour which we can use for some real purpose. An hour which is part of today, the most wonderful day of our lives."
    "Yes," Grijpstra said. "An hour. What shall we do with it?"
    "Have a cigarette," de Gier said.
    "Thank you." Grijpstra lit the cigarette, inhaled, and managed a smile. De Gier put his comb back and adjusted his scarf.
    "Let's go to my