Read Online Death of a Hawker by Janwillem van de Wetering - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Janwillem van de Wetering
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planning to serve coffee in cups only, were you? What do you think of these cups? Bought them last week. Just what I've been looking for for years. My mother had cups like that, cost a few cents when I was a child and now you pay as many guilders, but it doesn't matter, I bought them anyway. And there's a saucer for Tabby too, nasty cat goes on banging it about when I don't keep it filled; he'll crack it if he isn't careful and I'll have to give him an ugly enameled one again. Nasty cat, he got so angry with me yesterday that he didn't watch where he was going and he fell off the roof into the canal and I had to fish him out with a broom and all I got for thanks was a scratch. See here."
She rolled up her sleeve and de Gier saw a thick hairy wrist with a deep scratch on it.
"I have a cat too," and he showed the top of his right hand where Oliver had scratched him that morning.
"Ha," Elizabeth said, whacking him on the shoulder so that he nearly dropped the sugarbowl, which he was refilling from a tin found in the cupboard. "They all do it, but what else can they do, the silly little animals! They can't talk, can they? But they still have to show their tempers. What's your cat? Alley cat or proper aristocracy like my Tabby?"
"Siamese."
"Yes, they are nice too. I had one, years ago now. The neighbor's dog got it when it was still small, grabbed it by the neck and shook it and it was dead when he dropped it. All over in a second. Since then I have always had bigger cats. No dog would try to pick on Tabby. He would be blind and castrated and floating in the canal with his legs up if he only tried to look at my Tabby."
She went back into the living room and de Gier followed, carrying a tray. Elizabeth fussed with the cups and brought out a tin with a Chinese design. "A biscuit, gentlemen?"
De Gier was nibbling his biscuit, inwardly grumbling about its oversweet taste when Elizabeth got up again and opened a drawer. "Here, what do you think of it, commissaris? Didn't I make a nice job of it? A hundred and fifty hours of hard work, I timed it, but it was worth the trouble, wasn't it?"
The commissaris and de Gier admired the bellpull which Elizabeth dangled in front of their eyes. It showed a repeating design of roses, embroidered in cross-stitch. "I have lined it with the material you brought me in that little plastic bag. They are clever nowadays, aren't they? When I was a little girl you had to buy your material by the yard, even when you only needed a little bit, but now it's all supplied in those handy kits. Just the right fit too. All I have to do now is find a set of copper ornaments and sew them on and then I'll hang it over there, next to the door. Just the right place for it. Maybe I'll get a brass bell as well and then I'll pull it and the servant will come. Hahaha."
"Beautifully done, Elizabeth," the commissaris said. "No, don't put it away, I want to see it properly. My wife is doing something like that as well. On linen I think she said it was, pure linen."
"Can't work on linen anymore," Elizabeth said sadly, "not even with a magnifying glass. If the design isn't printed on the cloth I can't follow it; on linen you have to count the stitches, from a chart. I used to like doing that but now I get a headache when I try. We are getting old. It was very thoughtful of you giving me the bellpull kit, commissaris. Good of you not to forget an old woman living by herself."
"I like coming to see you," the commissaris said, "and I would come more often if I wasn't so busy and if my legs didn't make me ill all the time, but this visit tonight isn't a social call. That's why the sergeant came with me. He is a detective and we are working tonight. There's been a manslaughter on the Straight Tree Ditch this afternoon."
"Manslaughter? Nothing to do with the riots, I suppose?" "No. A man's face got bashed in. Abe Rogge, a hawker. The house is close, perhaps you know the man."
"That handsome man with the blond beard? Big
She rolled up her sleeve and de Gier saw a thick hairy wrist with a deep scratch on it.
"I have a cat too," and he showed the top of his right hand where Oliver had scratched him that morning.
"Ha," Elizabeth said, whacking him on the shoulder so that he nearly dropped the sugarbowl, which he was refilling from a tin found in the cupboard. "They all do it, but what else can they do, the silly little animals! They can't talk, can they? But they still have to show their tempers. What's your cat? Alley cat or proper aristocracy like my Tabby?"
"Siamese."
"Yes, they are nice too. I had one, years ago now. The neighbor's dog got it when it was still small, grabbed it by the neck and shook it and it was dead when he dropped it. All over in a second. Since then I have always had bigger cats. No dog would try to pick on Tabby. He would be blind and castrated and floating in the canal with his legs up if he only tried to look at my Tabby."
She went back into the living room and de Gier followed, carrying a tray. Elizabeth fussed with the cups and brought out a tin with a Chinese design. "A biscuit, gentlemen?"
De Gier was nibbling his biscuit, inwardly grumbling about its oversweet taste when Elizabeth got up again and opened a drawer. "Here, what do you think of it, commissaris? Didn't I make a nice job of it? A hundred and fifty hours of hard work, I timed it, but it was worth the trouble, wasn't it?"
The commissaris and de Gier admired the bellpull which Elizabeth dangled in front of their eyes. It showed a repeating design of roses, embroidered in cross-stitch. "I have lined it with the material you brought me in that little plastic bag. They are clever nowadays, aren't they? When I was a little girl you had to buy your material by the yard, even when you only needed a little bit, but now it's all supplied in those handy kits. Just the right fit too. All I have to do now is find a set of copper ornaments and sew them on and then I'll hang it over there, next to the door. Just the right place for it. Maybe I'll get a brass bell as well and then I'll pull it and the servant will come. Hahaha."
"Beautifully done, Elizabeth," the commissaris said. "No, don't put it away, I want to see it properly. My wife is doing something like that as well. On linen I think she said it was, pure linen."
"Can't work on linen anymore," Elizabeth said sadly, "not even with a magnifying glass. If the design isn't printed on the cloth I can't follow it; on linen you have to count the stitches, from a chart. I used to like doing that but now I get a headache when I try. We are getting old. It was very thoughtful of you giving me the bellpull kit, commissaris. Good of you not to forget an old woman living by herself."
"I like coming to see you," the commissaris said, "and I would come more often if I wasn't so busy and if my legs didn't make me ill all the time, but this visit tonight isn't a social call. That's why the sergeant came with me. He is a detective and we are working tonight. There's been a manslaughter on the Straight Tree Ditch this afternoon."
"Manslaughter? Nothing to do with the riots, I suppose?" "No. A man's face got bashed in. Abe Rogge, a hawker. The house is close, perhaps you know the man."
"That handsome man with the blond beard? Big
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