Read Online Outsider in Amsterdam by Janwillem van de Wetering - Free Book Online
Authors: Janwillem van de Wetering
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accountant. As an accountant I would say there might be a reason. I think I convinced Piet that his Society would have to disappear. He identified with the Society. Its death might mean his own death. And I think that the thought of having to pay a lot of money to the government upset him considerably. He might have had to pay as much as fifty thousand guilders, an amount he didn’t have.”
“Not in cash,” Grijpstra said.
“Yes,” the accountant agreed. “It wasn’t all that bad. He could have raised the money on his property. I could have managed the mortgage for him, at a price of course. Mortgages are expensive these days.”
“So he was upset,” Grijpstra said. “He would have had to go to a lot of trouble to raise money to pay to the government.”
The accountant put his fingertips together again and donned a pensive look.
“And there you may have your reason,” he said suavely. “The government is the establishment and Piet fought the establishment. His Society was against the establishment. And now it looked like the enemy was winning.”
“Aha,” Grijpstra said. “And if his enemy would force him to change the Society into a commercial company he would have had to hire real staff and pay them real wages. It might have been the end of his small but profitable business.”
“Quite,” the accountant said.
Grijpstra studied the accountant, a tall wide-shouldered man, aged somewhere between fifty and sixty. A beautifully chiseled head. A chartered accountant, a man of standing comparable to a surgeon, a bank director, an important merchant. An expensive office, an expensive image. Even an expensive name. Joachim de Kater. A “kater” is a tomcat. The tomcat watches how the others run to and fro with sweaty brows, and every now and then the tomcat puts out his paw and flicks his nails and the others pay. A chartered accountant is a man trusted by the establishment. Whatever he says is believed and the tax inspectors talk to him as equal to equal. Grijpstra shuddered. Grijpstra is Dutch too and he feared the tax inspectors as the Calvinists had once feared the Spanish inquisition.
“Thank you,” he said. “I won’t take any more of your time.”
“It was a pleasure to be of use,” de Kater said, and stretched to his full length. His handclasp was firm and pleasant. His smile glinted in the dark room. Grijpstra studied the smile for a moment. Expensive teeth. Eight thousand guilders perhaps? Or ten thousand? The false teeth looked very natural, each individual tooth a work of art, and the back teeth all of solid gold.
Grijpstra walked past the water of the canal, in deep contemplation. Fifty thousand guilders, payable in one go perhaps, but perhaps not. The tax people always appear to be reasonable.They don’t like to slaughter the goose who lays the golden eggs. They might have been prepared to wait a bit. Perhaps he should go to see them.
But on the other hand … Perhaps Piet panicked. He might have been petrified with fear, fear of the possibility of losing his easy trick to make money. And fear might have forced his head into the homemade noose.
Would it?
Grijpstra thought of the small head with the abundant dark red hair and the beautiful full mustache. The small head with the large bump on its temple. He saw the little corpse again, the naked feet and the neat little toes, pointed at the wooden floor.
Chapter 4
D E G IER WALKED past the merchants’ mansions on the Prinsengracht using the long strides that, he believed, prevent the common policeman’s complaint of flat feet. His mind was clouded by anger. He was angry with everyone in general and with Grijpstra in particular. De Gier didn’t want to walk, he wanted to drive. But the police are stingy, and Grijpstra didn’t like to be an exception. Why use a car if there is no immediate necessity?
But it was a nice day and de Gier’s anger evaporated. The image of a terrible, silly and stupid Grijpstra slid from his
“Not in cash,” Grijpstra said.
“Yes,” the accountant agreed. “It wasn’t all that bad. He could have raised the money on his property. I could have managed the mortgage for him, at a price of course. Mortgages are expensive these days.”
“So he was upset,” Grijpstra said. “He would have had to go to a lot of trouble to raise money to pay to the government.”
The accountant put his fingertips together again and donned a pensive look.
“And there you may have your reason,” he said suavely. “The government is the establishment and Piet fought the establishment. His Society was against the establishment. And now it looked like the enemy was winning.”
“Aha,” Grijpstra said. “And if his enemy would force him to change the Society into a commercial company he would have had to hire real staff and pay them real wages. It might have been the end of his small but profitable business.”
“Quite,” the accountant said.
Grijpstra studied the accountant, a tall wide-shouldered man, aged somewhere between fifty and sixty. A beautifully chiseled head. A chartered accountant, a man of standing comparable to a surgeon, a bank director, an important merchant. An expensive office, an expensive image. Even an expensive name. Joachim de Kater. A “kater” is a tomcat. The tomcat watches how the others run to and fro with sweaty brows, and every now and then the tomcat puts out his paw and flicks his nails and the others pay. A chartered accountant is a man trusted by the establishment. Whatever he says is believed and the tax inspectors talk to him as equal to equal. Grijpstra shuddered. Grijpstra is Dutch too and he feared the tax inspectors as the Calvinists had once feared the Spanish inquisition.
“Thank you,” he said. “I won’t take any more of your time.”
“It was a pleasure to be of use,” de Kater said, and stretched to his full length. His handclasp was firm and pleasant. His smile glinted in the dark room. Grijpstra studied the smile for a moment. Expensive teeth. Eight thousand guilders perhaps? Or ten thousand? The false teeth looked very natural, each individual tooth a work of art, and the back teeth all of solid gold.
Grijpstra walked past the water of the canal, in deep contemplation. Fifty thousand guilders, payable in one go perhaps, but perhaps not. The tax people always appear to be reasonable.They don’t like to slaughter the goose who lays the golden eggs. They might have been prepared to wait a bit. Perhaps he should go to see them.
But on the other hand … Perhaps Piet panicked. He might have been petrified with fear, fear of the possibility of losing his easy trick to make money. And fear might have forced his head into the homemade noose.
Would it?
Grijpstra thought of the small head with the abundant dark red hair and the beautiful full mustache. The small head with the large bump on its temple. He saw the little corpse again, the naked feet and the neat little toes, pointed at the wooden floor.
Chapter 4
D E G IER WALKED past the merchants’ mansions on the Prinsengracht using the long strides that, he believed, prevent the common policeman’s complaint of flat feet. His mind was clouded by anger. He was angry with everyone in general and with Grijpstra in particular. De Gier didn’t want to walk, he wanted to drive. But the police are stingy, and Grijpstra didn’t like to be an exception. Why use a car if there is no immediate necessity?
But it was a nice day and de Gier’s anger evaporated. The image of a terrible, silly and stupid Grijpstra slid from his