Read Online The Mind-Murders by Janwillem van de Wetering - Free Book Online Page B

continue?"
    "Yes."
    "Rea Fortune, she wants to go out. She wants to eat snails in a wine sauce, brought by waiters with Byzantine profiles. A Gypsy plays the violin, right into her ear. High notes, glassy, harp in the background. Fortune said so himself. A woman of fantasy, unfulfilled."
    "He gave no details."
    "I give you details so that you can see how it happened. Unfulfilled fantasy leads to frustration, frustration leads to tension, tension translates itself into deeds. Misdeeds. She attacks the suspect, sucks the blood from under his fingernails, chips at the last shred of his discipline. I understand both sides. I'll write some of this into my report. A horrifying circle; woman irritates man, man hides in his habits, he works even harder, reads even more, talks even less, irritates her even more. They'll never go on holidays, they'll never have any fun. She becomes more aggressive. Tension increases, becomes unbearable. The woman shrieks her insults. The poodle yaps. The man's nerves snap. Bam! Sometime earlier this week. The poodle escapes into the street, while Fortune gets rid of the household goods, beg pardon, the contents of the house, in a hired van, with the help of a couple of illegal migrants, Pakistanis maybe, Turks maybe. The poodle returns. Fortune is pleased; he takes the animal into the house, tries to enjoy its company, but the dog is whining, it looks for Rea. Again, bam! Babette gets chucked onto the roof and becomes dinner for the birds. Bear Brom got buried. Habitual behavioral patterns repeat themselves. But where did Rea go? Oh nor !"
    Grijpstra groaned. He looked about him but didn't seem to„ recognize the sergeant or the familiar surroundings.
    "Now what?"
    "But of course I know where she went. How stupid of me. Of you too. We could have known it all along. Amsterdam is a city of holes, fenced-in holes. They're always tearing at the street bricks, taking them out, stacking them, digging, fencing, taking the fences down, filling the holes. Aren't they?"
    "He buried her in the street?"
    "Where else? He didn't have a car and he couldn't give her to the Pakistanis or the Turks. Had to keep her in the house. He looked out of the window and saw the street workers had been at it again. Holes everywhere. He picked up the corpse, nipped outside, buried her, removed the fence. You think the street workers remember where their holes were? Never. They just come in the morning and dig and cover up, whatever comes first. But I've got to get that corpse, Rinus, no corpse, no case. They'll have to tear it all up again."
    "You do carry on."
    "Hmm?"
    "You chatter and prattle. If the commissaris could hear you, he'd water your neck with his little plastic can."
    "The commissaris would listen politely," Grijpstra said. "Politely and approvingly."
    "Would he now? Think of the base your construction rests on. You're building a tottering tower on the unconfirmed and hearsay gossip that Frits Fortune, in the remote past, as a toddler, whopped a teddy bear. He is, you state, a bear-whopper. I was a smoker. I no longer am. If somebody asks me, 'Do you smoke?' I say, 'No, I do not,' and I speak the truth. If somebody asks Fortune if he is in the habit of whopping bears, he will reply, 'No, I do not whop bears,' and that can be the truth too. It doesn't have to be true, but it could be true."
    "You carry on," Grijpstra said. "You're suffering withdrawal effects. You're a bit out of your head. Not that it matters. I will do this job alone. Stay with me so you'll be safe. I'll provide distraction by keeping you busy."
    "There's Kiran."
    The dog stood on the quayside and chewed on a cap.
    "Haha," Grijpstra said, "he got hold of somebody's cap. Probably took it from one of the fellows in the sandwich shop. Look at that, he's tearing off the rim."
    "That's your cap."
    Grijpstra felt his head.
    "Where's my cap?"
    "Probably fell off when you danced onto the tree. Kiran found it He's got strong teeth, hasn't he?"
    "Miserable