The Rattle-Rat

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" Do you keep losing the way here too?" Cardozo asked de Gier in the house in Spanish Lane.

"Where's the commissaris?" Grijpstra asked.

"At local headquarters," Cardozo said. "He gave me the car, for I have to return to Amsterdam. He'll be taking the train later. I just dropped in to hear whether anything's going on with you. Any information I can use?"

Grijpstra stretched on the couch under the flowered wallpaper, stared at a ceiling tile that was coming loose. "Cardozo works according to plan. He's ticking off moves. He's following a line of action." He pushed himself up. "What will you do in Amsterdam?"

"Make a manikin," Cardozo said, "or rather, I'll help. Reconstruction of the corpse and then bringing it to life. Ah, Adjutant?"

"I haven't lost the way here yet," de Gier said, sipping tea, flanked by fuchsias, legs crossed, little finger raised. "I think the adjutant and the commissaris are suffering from the past. Their roots are here, and they keep tripping over them. You and I don't have to carry memories. Our innocence keeps us right on course."

Grijpstra grunted.

"Adjutant?" Cardozo said.

"If only they had said something," Grypstra said. "This Pyr, Tyark, and Yelte. Never mind what. Any sort of statement. I would have checked it, found it to be untrue, and I'd have seen them again, clobbered them with my clout. Their fear would have delivered them into the hands of justice. But if they say nothing…"

"You could have made an effort," de Gier said. "The language is easy enough. I have a dictionary. 'Dead' is dea in Frisian. You could have started at the end. 'Not' is net. You keep saying net, and they may come up with the truth."

"Net dea?" Grypstra asked. "But Douwe Is dead."

De Gier looked at Grypstra over the edge of his cup. "Do try and follow me on the intellectual level. Go on, you can do it."

Grypstra got up slowly. He was lowering his head.

"Adjutant?" Cardozo said. "I'm glad you mentioned Pyr and the other two. I almost forgot. The commissaris wants you to visit them again and invite them to visit Headquarters in Amsterdam tomorrow at five P.M. There'll be a confrontation. Can you make sure they'll be there?"

Grypstra fell back on the couch. "Not again? Again the narrow dikes? The silence? No, I won't."

"Of course you will," de Gier said. "You'll enjoy it, too. You'll be working toward the subtle solution of another tricky case. Patience and perseverance. You've seen it before. We're ready to give up, but we keep pressing, and then over they go. The suspect's knees wobble, his head sags to the side, spittle drools out of the side of his mouth, his hands fall down, and the truth drops out. Crime and punishment, the balance we fight for, and there you are, holding the flaming sword."

"Yes," Grypstra said. "Maybe. But do they admit guilt? Are they ever sorry?"

"Of course," de Gier said. "Have you ever met anyone who really liked evil? Or committed it on purpose?"

"Yes," Grypstra said. "All suspects are evil by nature."

"Come off it. Did they have a choice? Weren't circumstances forcing them? Did they ever plan? Dragged by fate, they were, and you'll be dragging them to prison. And we're dragged too. We splash about in the current and we think that we swim, unless you accept that we're all quite helpless."

"Except for yourself."

"Me included," de Gier shouted, splashing tea on his trousers. "Everything's included. Think back, think ahead, you'll never get out."

"You don't belong in the police."

"I don't want to belong anywhere," de Gier said. "That's why I'm enjoying this case. For once I'm supposed to be excluded."

"I don't think you are," Cardozo said.

De Gier sat down and stared at the floor. Grypstra stared at Cardozo. Cardozo stared at Eddy. The rat had been asleep on a chair, lying limply on his side. He now struggled up and looked over the edge of the seat. Cardozo helped him down to the carpet. Eddy dragged himself along, trailing his tail. "Is he sick?" Cardozo asked.

"Showing off again," Grypstra said.

Eddy stood up against Cardozo's leg. His red eyes bulged. The dry little hands held on to the edge of Cardozo's sock. "Whee," Cardozo said.

"He won't hurt you. Why don't you pick him up?" de Gier said.

Cardozo reached down gingerly. Eddy let himself be scooped up, sighing his pleasure, baring bis long teeth. Dark red veins crinkled through the almost transparent skin of his ears. Cardozo's finger scratched the rat's pink belly. "Cute," Cardozo said. Eddy rattled weakly. His mustache drooped and a spasm shook the small body. "Wha," Cardozo said, letting go. The rat fell on the floor. Cardozo squatted. "Now what did I do?"

"He's still moving," Grypstra said. He squatted too. "And rattling."

De Gier crawled after the rat. "Rats don't live long, I think. Maybe he's old. Are you old, Eddy?"

Eddy waved a leg.

Grijpstra groaned and got up. "The death rattle, perhaps?"

"Just our luck," de Gier said. "We always come in at the end."

Grijpstra telephoned. "Mrs. Oppenhuyzen? About your pet again…"

"I think he's dying."

"You have no car?"

"Your husband isn't with you?"

"You would like us to bring him to you?"

"Yes, ma'am. Will do."

He hung up.

"You're going to your loved ones," de Gier said to Eddy. He fingered the trembling little head. "And then maybe you'll go altogether. To a better afterlife. Swings and music, choice cheese, rodent sex. You'll have a great time."

"You take him," Grijpstra said. "The move isn't case related. And I want dinner. You cook the dinner too."

De Gier brought in mussel soup and fresh bread. Grijpstra snorted his way through several helpings. "Good," said Cardozo. "Subtle flavor."

"Frisian, of course," de Gier said. "The recipe was in the paper. Curry, flour, cream, and stir well. The mussels are fresh, compliments of the Military Police."

"Did you see them again?" Grijpstra asked.

'Thought I'd drop in for a chat," de Gier said. "They were having their coffee and cake, off the mahogany table. Told me a good tale. Very exciting, their daily routine. Some copper was stolen from the islands, property of the military. Amazing. This morning the copper turned up again. And then there was this deserter that they were hunting, but he turned up by himself too, and he'll be let off. There's too much manpower, the Air Force is automated. The less men about, the better."

De Gier cut bread and passed the butter.

Grijpstra and Cardozo weren't listening too well.

"Like the bread?" de Gier asked. "Lieutenant Sudema baked it himself. I visited him too. He's done with the wall and has replaced it with three posts from Ameland. His nephew brought them in, in the Military Police patrol boat, but that boat isn't really theirs, it belongs to the Wet Engineers."

"More soup," Grijpstra said.

"Yes," de Gier said, "and the Sudema wall will go up again. He's been given some bricks by the Water Inspection. The bricks were brought in by the Game Warden Department; he exchanged them for tomatoes. The tomatoes will end up with the Navy, who'll send an Army truck to his greenhouse, a truck temporarily registered with the Municipal Police.

"More bread," Grgpstra said.

"It'll take time," de Gier said. "Sudema is distracted. Keeps kissing his wife. Embarrassing. I had to watch it."

"What are you really doing?" Grijpstra asked, cleaning his plate with the last crust of bread.

"Too much," de Gier said. "Coffee, Adjutant? You can do the dishes, Cardozo."

Cardozo had to go. De Gier waved as the Citroen left the street. Grijpstra did the dishes.

The doorbell rang.

"Hello, Hylkje," de Gier said.

"I'm not going," Grijpstra shouted from the kitchen. "I've got to see Phyr, Tyark, and Yelte. You take the rat."

Hylkje and de Gier went to look at Eddy. Only the rat's nose moved. Hylkje touched one of Eddy's feet. She let go quickly. "Cold."

"Warm them," de Gier said.

"I'd rather warm yours," Hylkje said. "In your bed in Amsterdam, the one you told me about, with the brass ornaments on each side. I'll come and visit you from time to time. I won't stay. No commitment. I'm not after you at all. Maybe you think that, and are trying to keep your distance, but there's no need. I'll bring coffee and my filter machine, and Sunday evening I'll be off. No aftermath. Nothing."

"Promise?" de Gier asked.

"Promise."

"Not me," Grijpstra shouted from the kitchen. "You take Eddy. You used every pot in the house to make a pint of mussel soup. I'll be here for hours."

"My apartment faces a park," de Gier said. "I'll take you for a walk. We can feed the ducks."

"How romantic," Hylkje's eyelashes fluttered.

"I've got to go to Dinjum too," Grijpstra shouted, "to tell the lieutenant where I hid his pistol. I'll be busy all night."

"I'd like some romance tonight," Hylkje said.

"We'll combine all our duties," de Gier said, "and construct activity that provides optimal satisfaction for all parties concerned. Eddy has to go to Engwierum. Grijpstra needs the Volkswagen. There's a full moon tonight. You have your Deux Chevaux. This is beautiful country. You want to be romantic. You and I will go for a drive. Everything fits in."

"Eddy's death too?" Hylkje asked.

"Of course," de Gier said.

De Gier picked up Eddy, moving both his hands slowly under the small body.

"You did that at the right moment," Hylkje said. "You knew I was ready to beat you up. I can't stand that cold logic of yours and the way you make others fit into your plans. You're inhuman. What am I to you? Something that you can combine?"

De Gier took Eddy into the kitchen to say good-bye to Grijpstra.

"You abuse me," Hylkje hissed in the car.

"I use you," de Gier said warmly.

"I'm not going to be forced into anything," Hylkje said.

"I'm merely making use of your desire," de Gier said, "like you use mine. What's wrong with that? Isn't there mutual benefit?"

"Oh," Hylkje whispered hoarsely.

"I do like your voice," de Gier said.

Eddy rattled, shook, and slackened in de Gier's hands.

"Eddy is all used up," de Gier said.