Read Online The Streetbird by Janwillem van de Wetering - Free Book Online

explanations. "All that happened is that someone knocked you on the noggin with a pot." He made a fist. "Clear case of assault. Shall I contact the station? We need a fingerprint man."
    "No."
    "And how is your head now? Want me to take you to a hospital?"
    De Gier dived into a clean shirt. "No." He followed the adjutant into the living room.
    "Let me clean up at least, before Cardozo comes back, or we'll have that again. Get a bucket with hot water and I'll handle the rag."
    Grijpstra mopped. De Gier sat at the table and tried to roll a cigarette. His hands trembled. "I must have been dreaming."
    "Yes, but the actual violence was no dream or you wouldn't have a lump on top of your head. Where did you get the vulture idea?"
    "It was a vulture."
    Grijpstra carried the bucket out and came back. He sat down next to the sergeant, placed his notebook on his knee, and drew a bird.
    "That's him," de Gier said. "How did you know?"
    "Because I saw a bird like this, in the Olofs-alley, just after the drunken seamen lost the war. I looked up and saw a vulture fly above the rooftops. But as there are no vultures in this country, and never have been any, I assumed I was mistaken. A falcon maybe—there are falcons in the city, hunting pigeons."
    "A vulture, with yellow legs and a yellow beak."
    "Quite. But vultures have never been seen here."
    "This one was seen," de Gier said. "Very much so, and he came after me too, and waited on the roof until I was asleep, and sneaked in and beaked into my head with his infested mouthpiece."
    "Why not?" Grijpstra said. "After all, anything is possible. I've seen camels in town too, advertising trips to North Africa, and elephants trumpeting about a circus. But why would the vulture be carrying a pot of spaghetti?"
    De Gier tried to roll another cigarette. Grijpstra took the paper and tobacco out of his hands. "Let me do it for you." He inserted the cigarette between de Gier's lips and flicked his lighter. "Here you are." De Gier inhaled and coughed. Grijpstra patted his back. "You're still not all there. Poor Rinus. Quietly asleep, minding your own business, and look what happens. How about a nice cup of nice coffee?"
    Grijpstra brought the mug. "Here, half a spoon of sugar, seven drops of milk, just as sir likes it. Stirred lightly from the wrist."
    De Gier stared at the coffee.
    "But you have to drink it yourself. Shall I steady your hand?"
    Cardozo came in. "Is the sergeant being fed?"
    "I always say hello when I enter a room," Grijpstra said.
    "Hello," Cardozo said. "I have news. I found Crazy Chris, pushing a cart filled with eels and radishes. Crazy Chris did see the suspect, but his memory is a bit faulty, due to intake of alcohol, which, as we know, does not stimulate the intelligence. I shook him a bit and he managed to remember."
    "What did he remember?"
    "That the suspect was large, black, shapeless, and creepy. He wore a black cape and a floppy hat. He walked west, following the Seadike, away from the station. Gait somewhat jumpy, and he almost stepped out of his shoes."
    De Gier lowered his mug.
    "You're spilling," Cardozo said. "Please. We try to keep it clean here."
    "Did the suspect resemble a bird?" de Gier asked.
    Cardozo looked at Grijpstra. "He must have carried the Schmeisser under his cape, and he certainly looked odd. I do think we should try to catch him. A mad murderer, in the possession of an automatic weapon." He nodded at de Gier. "What is the matter with the sergeant?"
    "The sergeant dreamed that he was attacked by a large bird, right here in the room, while he was napping on the couch."
    "Are you sure he didn't happen to be awake?" Cardozo asked. "Earlier on he saw three roller-skating gentlemen. I'm sure the psychiatrist can recommend suitable therapy."
    "Come here," de Gier said. "Feel my head."
    Cardozo felt. "A lump." He felt again. "Biggish."
    "Hit on the head," Grijpstra said, "with a potful of spaghetti and tomato sauce. Someone's hot dinner. I cleaned up the mess