Read Online Hard Rain by Janwillem van de Wetering - Free Book Online
Authors: Janwillem van de Wetering
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again. The only real bullet, as far as I'm concerned. Perhaps you should ask Guldemeester what happened; it's really his case."
"Adjutant Guldemeester called in today," the commissaris said. "He's taking the day off. You signed all the reports, I believe. You weren't at IJsbreker's house at all?"
"Only briefly." Halba's fingers kneaded his chin furiously. "I have no reason to doubt Guldemeester's statements. The adjutant's a very experienced colleague. Everything fitted exactly. Powder burns on the head, a letter on the table, typed and signed. I've done this myself, things got to be too much, sorry if anyone is inconvenienced, that sort of thing. Guldemeester checked the signature with papers at the bank."
The commissaris flicked his lighter and looked at the flame.
"Cigarette?" Halba asked, offering his pack.
"Hmm?" The commissaris put the lighter back in his pocket. "Oh no, thank you. I'm cutting down. No smoking in the morning. You know, Chief Inspector, I never trust typed suicide notes. People who work in offices are known to sign blank paper at times, because they're off somewhere and don't want to wait for the secretary to write what they dictate."
Halba stubbed out his cigarette with excessive force. "IJsbreker was emotionally disturbed. Guldemeester talked to the bank's vice-president, a Baron de la Faille. The baron stated that his chief had shown signs of obvious mental stress for some time."
"Doesn't de la Faille replace his ex-superior?" the commissaris asked. "Couldn't there be a motive there?"
Halba touched the tip of his nose. "You wouldn't be jumping to conclusions, now? Guldemeester visited the bank too, and was told that it belongs to Willem Fernandus, the attorney, who lives farther up Prince Hendrick Quay. He called on Mr. Fernandus too, who wasn't at all sure who would replace the Banque du Credit's dead director."
"Let's see now," the commissaris said. "Missing gun, missing bullet. A typed note. Ah yes. I'm reopening this case, Halba, after due deliberation, of course, so I went over to IJsbreker's house last night. Adjutant Guldemeester was good enough to give Grijpstra the key. Did you notice that at least ten paintings had been taken down from the mansion's walls? The discolored areas were quite obvious, I thought. A cabinet must have been removed too. I saw a curved outline on the wall that indicated its shape. Display cabinets often have curved tops."
"No," Halba said. "As I keep saying, I rushed in and out. We were busy with the terrorist that day, a more pressing matter. Guldemeester handled the whole case by himself. I'm sure there's an explanation. Perhaps the objects were moved after the adjutant visited the house. Perhaps the heirs . . ."
The commissaris shook his head. "No. The front door was still sealed when we came. Do you often do that, Chief Inspector? Sign reports describing events and situations you haven't properly observed?"
Halba glanced at his watch. "Not normally, but as I keep explaining, there was a crisis at the time. I have to go now; there's a meeting of staff members in a few minutes. Are you coming too?"
"I think I'll skip it for once," the commissaris said.
Halba walked quickly to the door. He paused with the doorknob in his hand. "Yes?" the commissaris asked.
"I don't like this at all," Halba said sharply. "I hope you know what you are doing."
"I think I do," the commissaris said. He smiled when the door clicked shut. "And I do rather like this." The commissaris took a watering can off a shelf and casually watered the profusion of flowering plants on his windowsills before looking at his watch. "There. That should give him enough time," he said. He dialed a number, listened, broke the connection, and dialed again. "Miss Antoinette? I just phoned Guldemeester's home, but the line is engaged. Would you keep trying for me? Please? If you can't get through, I'd like you to pinpoint his address on a map. I believe that the adjutant lives a few miles out of
"Adjutant Guldemeester called in today," the commissaris said. "He's taking the day off. You signed all the reports, I believe. You weren't at IJsbreker's house at all?"
"Only briefly." Halba's fingers kneaded his chin furiously. "I have no reason to doubt Guldemeester's statements. The adjutant's a very experienced colleague. Everything fitted exactly. Powder burns on the head, a letter on the table, typed and signed. I've done this myself, things got to be too much, sorry if anyone is inconvenienced, that sort of thing. Guldemeester checked the signature with papers at the bank."
The commissaris flicked his lighter and looked at the flame.
"Cigarette?" Halba asked, offering his pack.
"Hmm?" The commissaris put the lighter back in his pocket. "Oh no, thank you. I'm cutting down. No smoking in the morning. You know, Chief Inspector, I never trust typed suicide notes. People who work in offices are known to sign blank paper at times, because they're off somewhere and don't want to wait for the secretary to write what they dictate."
Halba stubbed out his cigarette with excessive force. "IJsbreker was emotionally disturbed. Guldemeester talked to the bank's vice-president, a Baron de la Faille. The baron stated that his chief had shown signs of obvious mental stress for some time."
"Doesn't de la Faille replace his ex-superior?" the commissaris asked. "Couldn't there be a motive there?"
Halba touched the tip of his nose. "You wouldn't be jumping to conclusions, now? Guldemeester visited the bank too, and was told that it belongs to Willem Fernandus, the attorney, who lives farther up Prince Hendrick Quay. He called on Mr. Fernandus too, who wasn't at all sure who would replace the Banque du Credit's dead director."
"Let's see now," the commissaris said. "Missing gun, missing bullet. A typed note. Ah yes. I'm reopening this case, Halba, after due deliberation, of course, so I went over to IJsbreker's house last night. Adjutant Guldemeester was good enough to give Grijpstra the key. Did you notice that at least ten paintings had been taken down from the mansion's walls? The discolored areas were quite obvious, I thought. A cabinet must have been removed too. I saw a curved outline on the wall that indicated its shape. Display cabinets often have curved tops."
"No," Halba said. "As I keep saying, I rushed in and out. We were busy with the terrorist that day, a more pressing matter. Guldemeester handled the whole case by himself. I'm sure there's an explanation. Perhaps the objects were moved after the adjutant visited the house. Perhaps the heirs . . ."
The commissaris shook his head. "No. The front door was still sealed when we came. Do you often do that, Chief Inspector? Sign reports describing events and situations you haven't properly observed?"
Halba glanced at his watch. "Not normally, but as I keep explaining, there was a crisis at the time. I have to go now; there's a meeting of staff members in a few minutes. Are you coming too?"
"I think I'll skip it for once," the commissaris said.
Halba walked quickly to the door. He paused with the doorknob in his hand. "Yes?" the commissaris asked.
"I don't like this at all," Halba said sharply. "I hope you know what you are doing."
"I think I do," the commissaris said. He smiled when the door clicked shut. "And I do rather like this." The commissaris took a watering can off a shelf and casually watered the profusion of flowering plants on his windowsills before looking at his watch. "There. That should give him enough time," he said. He dialed a number, listened, broke the connection, and dialed again. "Miss Antoinette? I just phoned Guldemeester's home, but the line is engaged. Would you keep trying for me? Please? If you can't get through, I'd like you to pinpoint his address on a map. I believe that the adjutant lives a few miles out of
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