Hard Rain (20 page)

His wife patted his pockets. The keys rattled. "Here they are. You're seeing Miss Antoinette?"

"She has volunteered for the job," the commissaris said. "We've discussed my relationship with Miss Antoinette at length, Katrien. I never sent the poor girl anywhere. It's Willem again,
he
made the immoral suggestion."

"But she's doing it for you," his wife said, buttoning his jacket. "That's the part I don't like. I wish you would understand women a little better."

"We does it all for them and they never understands," Mrs. Jongs said. "Can I clean here now? Carl, is this yours?" With the vacuum cleaner's snout she touched scraps of wood stacked in a corner of the hall. "That's Tuhurtle," Carl said, "me and the co-hommm ..." He waved his hand furiously, trying to trip the word off his jaw.

"We found the pieces together," the commissaris said. "Last night when we were out for a walk. Don't you like the head, Mrs. Jongs? The State Detection sergeant found that for us. He came along, he can't drive his car in the park. It's a champagne cork."

"That's Tuhurtle's foohoot," Carl said, "the other cohork is his heahead, the one with the men-metal still on."

" 'Bye," the commissaris said. His wife followed him to the door. He kissed her cheek. "I'm not a dirty old man."

She kissed him back. "I know, Jan, but it isn't fair. Older women can never find lovers, and all that old men have to do is put out a hand." The commissaris put out his hand. She held it between hers. He retrieved it gently. " 'Bye, Katrien, got to go now."

He walked to his car. The Corvette parked across the road started up. The commissaris waved at the driver. He got into the Citroen and wound the window down, waiting for the Corvette to make a U-turn and come alongside. "Morning," the commissaris said. The sergeant's companion sat up straight, rather awkwardly, for the Corvette's seats were luxuriously tipped back. "Morning, sir."

"I don't want you two to know where I'm going today," the commissaris said, "so I thought of a special trick. We'll have some fun, okay? See if you can catch me. Back up a little, please, so I can get out of here."

The Corvette backed away obediently. The commissaris maneuvered the Citroen out of its tight parking place and swung the large car into traffic. He drove as far as the Rijksmuseum without doing anything spectacular, the Corvette following close behind. The commissaris grinned into his rearview mirror and said, "Now." Cyclists were all around him, heading straight for the gateway through the museum's main building reserved for two-wheeled traffic only. The commissaris switched on his left-turn indicator, swerved a little to the left, turned the wheel back, then made the car jump dead ahead. The Corvette followed, forcing protesting cyclists to the side. "Very well," the commissaris said. "Thought this was it, did you? Tried to lose you and I failed? Good. Now watch this." He turned right and drove parallel to the center lane reserved for trams. A tram appeared and slowed down for the tram stop. The commissaris slowed too, staying abreast of the tram. Passengers filed in and out. The tram's doors would close any moment now. "Hurrah!" the commissaris shouted, and stopped, shifted his car into neutral, and pulled on the emergency brake. He jumped out of the Citroen and into the tram. The tram closed its automatic doors and clanged its bell. The traffic light ahead had changed to green. The commissaris looked back and grinned. The Corvette was blocked by the stationary Citroen. The State Detection constable, resplendent in his polished leather suit and hennaed hair, had left the Corvette and was running after the tram. The commissaris waved. The tram turned left and made use of its clear lane to accelerate.

The commissaris left the tram at the next stop and waved a cab down. "Prince's Island."

"Sir," the cabdriver said, and put up the flag that activated his meter. The commissaris checked his watch. Five to ten. Too early to smoke cigars, a little too late for his meeting with Miss Antoinette. She would wait.

She got up as he walked into the café hardly limping; perhaps the sudden leap from car to tram had disturbed the pattern of his usual morning pains. "Dear," Miss Antoinette said, "I did so worry about you."

The commissaris nodded to the skeletal barman. "Morning, Bert."

Miss Antoinette skipped up to the bar, displaying a long perfect leg through a split in her tight skirt. "A jenever, please, nice and cold, and a vodka and tonic with ice for me." She carried the drinks back, put them down, and whirled on the gleaming floorboards. "Do you like my outfit? Aren't I realistically wicked now? Like the short skirt? Don't you just love the low blouse?" She bent down.

The commissaris looked away. "Splendid, dear."

"Do look," she whispered. "The bra is transparent. Willem bought me lots of clothes yesterday, it took forever trying them on. Do you think this is my true self?"

The commissaris looked. He coughed discreetly. "Most attractive."

She bobbed her head. "You like my hair too?"

"Wonderful." The commissaris raised his glass. "Your health. Should you be drinking in the morning?"

"I can do anything now," she said breathlessly, "I am a spy. I bring you information. Nobody followed me here. Willem trusts me." She pouted. "I don't know whether the news is so good."

The commissaris sipped his drink, shuddering at the impact of alcohol dissolving into his blood. "News is neutral, dear, it can be used either way. First tell me what you had to do to gain Willem's trust."

She laughed. "So easy. Men are vain. I flattered him. I said he impressed me, that I had heard so much about him, that my work with you was boring, that I wanted to see his gorgeous club. He came and picked me up."

"Did Willem drive his Daimler?" the commissaris asked. "A large low green car?"

"A Daimler?" Miss Antoinette asked. "I think it was a Rolls-Royce, old-fashioned, square and black, with a uniformed driver."

"Yes," the commissaris said. "You liked that? Then what did you have to do?"

Miss Antoinette thoughtfully tinkled the ice in her glass. "Oh, nothing much. I thought it would be like that book
O.
Have you heard about Lady O? The beautiful young lady who surrenders to evil? And the evil men pick her up in a Rolls-Royce and she has to take her panties off and swear she will never wear them again, and she has to sit on the cold leather seat? I love that story, but Willem just talked about what I would be earning. Ten times my police pay, and in cash, tax-free. He gave me a lot of money straight off."

"There are no free lunches," the commissaris said. "He put his hook in you. Did Willem take you to his brothel?"

"Later," Miss Antoinette said. "First he took me to his home. He has such a beautiful antique house. I'm staying there now. Do you know he collects rare works of art? And that he has wines a hundred years old?"

"You drank old wine," the commissaris said. "What were you wearing?"

"My office suit with the starched blouse. I wanted to look demure. Willem is stealing me from you. I wanted to look like your property."

"You're not my property," the commissaris said.

"I still am," Miss Antoinette said, "but Willem doesn't know. I had to call him Willem and he calls me Toine. You want to call me Toine too?"

"No," the commissaris said. "We have a formal relationship, Miss Antoinette."

She touched his leg under the table. "We do? In my new role?" She tried a low giggle that came out well. "I'm a vamp. I vamped Willem. It was really quite easy. I don't even have to work in the Society's club and he keeps promising things. We're going to stay at some castle in Spain and I get to fly to Calcutta."

"What's in Calcutta?" the commissaris asked. "That's one of the hellholes of the earth. Smuggling, maybe?"

She bent toward the commissaris again. "Yes, isn't that exciting? Willem says he can deal with the customs here, but first he has to take care of you. He's really scared of you, you know. That's the bad news. He wants you out of the way."

"But I am," the commissaris said.

"He doesn't trust you," Miss Antoinette said. "He believes you're still active, but he isn't sure. I think he'll try to kill you if he feels you haven't given up."

The commissaris grinned. "And the castle in Spain? That must be Ten Haaf's place. Have you heard about Ten Haaf?"

She shook her head. "Shall I ask?"

"No," the commissaris said. "Don't solicit any information. Ten Haaf fancies himself a master criminal, now retired. Willem and I knew him when we were still students. Another silly man. I think Guldemeester went to Marbella."

"Marbella? Isn't that on the south coast of Spain?"

"The land of the happy," the commissaris said. "The happy and the bored."

Her hand was on his knee again. "You should be careful. Willem said that accidents will happen. Grijpstra and de Gier already had an accident. How are they now?"

"They'll be up and about in a few days," the commissaris said. "Meanwhile, I'll wait. So Willem's nervous, is he? Fear will make him stumble."

"You still plan to raid the club?" Miss Antoinette asked. "Please don't destroy the building, it's so beautiful in there. Day after tomorrow might be good. Fernandus will take me to his other club, at the Vinker Lakes, I haven't been there yet. This other man will take care of the place here, a baron."

"De la Faille?"

"Yes, I met him. He hasn't met any of you yet, so he won't be suspicious."

"Bart met me," the commissaris said, "but he was still a boy then. I could change my appearance somewhat. You think the club will be busy then?"

"Yes," Miss Antoinette said. "I heard Fernandus and de la Faille talk. De la Faille looks like de Gier— he's tall and handsome and sporty and better-mannered than the sergeant, and has the same mustache but darker, and I think he's gay."

"My dear," the commissaris said, "since when is de Gier gay?"

"De la Faille is very gay," Miss Antoinette said. "I felt it in the way Willem introduced me to him. Willem acted as if de la Faille were harmless. Willem is possessive, don't you think?"

"Did Willem ..." The commissaris studied his drink. "... eh, possess you?"

"Yesterday, a little," Miss Antoinette said, "after we had bought the clothes. He bought me other clothes too, sort of old-fashioned, with a high lace collar and a long skirt, and I had to walk around his bedroom and take them off again and he called me 'Miss' and was kind of silly. I don't know what Willem was getting at. He behaved like a little boy."

"Oh, dear," the commissaris said,

"Maybe he's too old to do much," Miss Antoinette said. "Are you too old?"

"Absolutely," the commissaris said. "Miss Antoinette, I'm too old."

"Even to do a little?"

"Too old to do absolutely anything."

"Well," she said, "you could watch."

"Bert," the commissaris shouted, "more alcohol, please." Bert shuffled over and made the jenever jug's silver spout tinkle.

"You don't want to watch?" Miss Antoinette asked.

The commissaris swallowed and shuddered. "You and Willem?"

"Just me?"

"No." The commissaris took out his tin of cigars, looked at it briefly, and put it back in his pocket.

"I have this book of photographs," Miss Antoinette said. "They show men who watch women in expensive hotel rooms. The women sit or stand around, or they lie on antique beds, all calm and relaxed, and the men watch them. The men are always dressed. Sometimes they have their backs to the women but then they look into mirrors, very elegant mirrors, with gold frames, and there are flowers in the room, roses, and the men smoke long cigars and drink cognac, maybe."

The commissaris drank his spiced gin.

"I don't think watching is very fatiguing," Miss Antoinette said, "but it could be exciting, don't you agree? Watch and be watched? You in your nice suit. Hike your tie."

"Oh, dear," the commissaris said. "Katrien bought me this tie. You should be careful with your fantasies, dear. Celine Guldemeester had fantasies too. Living them out might not be as harmless as she thought."

"Yes." She released his knee. "I forgot. I met Celine at the club."

"Is she happy now?" the commissaris asked.

"She was a bit drunk." Miss Antoinette giggled. "Like I am now. I don't like being drunk, but just a little is fun. I wish I could be drunk like this all the time. Celine kept talking about de Gier. She just
loves
deGier."

"Yes," the commissaris said.

"I don't love deGier."

"No?" the commissaris said. "Why not? Most women seem to like de Gier."

"He's too healthy," Miss Antoinette said. "Healthy men are always so stupid. I only like handicapped men. I don't like men who can do anything they want to do. They don't need me."

"Is that why you like old men?"

"Willem needs me." Miss Antoinette smiled.

"You don't love Willem," the commissaris said. "That's impossible." He looked fierce. "So what else did you and Willem do?"

"Well ..." Miss Antoinette pursed her moist lips and pushed a lock of hair away from her eye. "Not much. When I still had the dress on, he sat on my lap, which was awkward, for he's rather heavy. He kissed me a bit and caressed me, sort of. Rather sneakily, I thought." Her shoulders trembled above the low blouse. "Willem is very sneaky."

"Yes," the commissaris said.

"Would you be sneaky if you sat on my lap? You're not heavy."

"No," the commissaris said. "Not if I was aware that you didn't like that type of activity. Bert? Could I have another, if you please?"

"I didn't altogether dislike it," Miss Antoinette said. "I'm sometimes sneaky myself. And then we had a bath."

"Together?"

"Yes." She laughed. "In a sunken tub. Enormous, black marble, and the water swirled, and we were both admirals and we had fleets of nutshells."

The commissaris looked around. Bert had poured the jenever but seemed now lost in thought. "I'll get it." Miss Antoinette pranced past the commissaris. She came back. "You didn't look. I walk differently now. Willem likes that. I sway."

"Willem can look," the commissaris said. "What else happened, dear? Never mind the sex, I think I can visualize that part of your encounter well enough. Any information I can use?"