"Now," the commissaris said, "we don't seem to have achieved much tonight. It was clear that Mr. Wauters, our Belgian diplomat friend, wasn't prepared to tell us more than he had to. It was also clear that he didn't have an alibi."
De Gier took another sip and made the brandy roll on his tongue. He saw the noncommittal face of the diplomat again. The diplomat had been very polite. He had spent Saturday night in his bachelor flat, by himself. He had watched a little TV and gone to sleep early. He hadn't left his flat, he hadn't gone to Amsterdam, and he hadn't killed Mrs. van Buren.
"He admitted that Maria van Buren was his mistress," the commissaris said, "and he admitted that he paid her a monthly sum. He wouldn't say how much. He knew, he said, that she had other friends but he had always pretended not to know. An arrangement between her and him. Very convenient. Live and let live. Avoid costly confrontations. A true diplomat."
"He didn't seem sorry she had died," de Gier said.
"Yes," the commissaris said, "that's an important observation. I noted the same reaction when I saw the American colonel this morning. The colonel was relieved, and so was Mr. Wauters. They saw the woman regularly, they went there to see her on their own accord, they spent money on her, a lot of money in the colonel's case and possibly also in the diplomat's case, but they were relieved to hear that they wouldn't have to go to see her again."
"Strange," Grijpstra said.
"A witch," de Gier said.
"Beg pardon?" the commissaris asked.
"A witch, sir. She cultivated funny plants, we mentioned it in our report and the doctor confirmed that the plants we found in her houseboat were poisonous. Belladonna and nightshade and something else, I forgot the name."
"Ah yes," the commissaris said, "I saw the report. Herbs. The third was thorn apple. Herbs are a craze nowadays, everybody cultivates them. But people cultivate them for their kitchens and for medicinal purposes. Nobody would cultivate poisonous plants."
"Mrs. van Buren did," Grijpstra said.
"You are suggesting that she was brewing poisons?" the commissaris said, looking at de Gier, "brews which she made her victims drink and which paralyzed their will power in some way so that they were forced to come back to her?"
De Gier didn't answer.
"Could be," the commissaris said. "Maybe she cast a spell on them. Perhaps the spell consisted of her own sexual power and whatever she made them drink or eat or smoke. Or perhaps she burned a powder and they inhaled the poison.
The one force would enhance the other and they would only be satisfied if they got the two together. But it is far-fetched. It's romantic, of course."
"De Gier is very romantic," Grijpstra said.
The commissaris chuckled and refilled their glasses. "Your health, gentlemen." They drank.
"Nostalgic is the word," the commissaris said. "We are being taken back to the Middle Ages, the dark times when people lived in small communities in great forests. It's a time we have forgotten but it's still in the memory of the people, hidden, but alive. Lately it is coming up again, I have seen it in the hippies. Some of them must look exactly like wizards' disciples, pure fourteenth century. Do you ever go to bookshops?"
"No, sir," Grijpstra said, "not very often."
"Yes, sir," de Gier said.
"You must have noticed that books on herbs are very popular. I have read some of them. Collected rubbish I would say, stuff you can find in the encyclopedia, but then bunched together and with a couple of drawings thrown in. The real books are not for sale. The old hermits had books but you could only use them if the hermit was prepared to train you, and you had to live with him for years and he would really teach you about plants. One could also find out by oneself I daresay, by trying to grow herbs and by studying them. I spend some time in my garden every day, it's amazing what you can learn. Do you have a garden?"
"I have some plants on my balcony, sir," de Gier said.
"What do you have?" the commissaris asked, looking very interested.
"Geraniums," de Gier said, "and something called asylum, a small plant with lots of little white flowers, it smells of honey."
"Alyssum," the commissaris said. "Do you ever look at your plants?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what do you see?"
"They are beautiful."
"Yes," the commissaris said slowly. "They are beautiful. Even geraniums are beautiful, almost everybody has them and they are beautiful. It's the first lesson to learn."
He had spoken with some emotion and the silence had come back into the room. It was a pleasant silence and Grijpstra suddenly felt very peaceful. De Gier was sitting on the edge of his chair, the brandy glass in his hand, waiting for the commissaris to speak.
"But I am not prepared to believe that Mrs. van Buren was a witch. She may have had the plants for some other reason. Maybe she liked the look of them. She had lots of other plants as well. She had the colonel in her power and I am sure she had our Mr. Wauters under her spell. But she was a beautiful sexy woman. Women have power, a passive power. All they have to do is smile a little and men run to them. Men don't want to be manipulated but they are, by women and their own uncontrolled desires. Perhaps the colonel and Mr. Wauters are pleased now, because they can go and hunt for fresh game. And perhaps she was blackmailing them. Our friends wouldn't admit that they were being blackmailed. That's understandable. The blackmailer is dead and the secret has gone with her. Three detectives have gone through the houseboat today; tomorrow morning we'll know what they have found. Nobody has taken anything out of the ship for I had it guarded all night and this morning until the detectives arrived. Perhaps we'll find something."
"What did you think of the colonel, sir?"Grijpstra asked.
"An intelligent man," the commissaris said. "He admitted a lot which was good strategy if he had anything to hide. He even admitted having spent a fortune on her during the last three years, but a fortune he could afford to spend. Colonels have a good income, especially in the American army. He has an alibi and I am sure it's a good alibi. The American military police will be checking it now but it will hold. But the colonel said something which may support your theory, de Gier."
"Did he say she was a witch?" de Gier asked.
The commissaris smiled. "No. But he said that she was very attractive and that I would have been interested in her if I had ever met her. I said that I am an old man and suffering from rheumatism. And then he said that Mrs. van Buren would perhaps have cured me. Rheumatism is hard to cure."
"Did you ask him if Mrs. van Buren had been interested in plants?" de Gier asked.
"No," the commissaris said. "I didn't think of it. The remark only sunk in later."
"You can contact the American military police and they can ask him," Grijpstra said.
"I may. And I may not."
"You don't think it matters?" de Gier asked.
"Perhaps not. She was killed by a man who didn't like her. He didn't like her because she was blackmailing him, or because she had humiliated him. She may also have been killed because she knew something. The Secret Service is interested in her and has been interested for some time. Perhaps some professional killer paid by an embassy has thrown the dagger. The fact that she is a witch, which isn't a fact so far, may have nothing to do with her death. We may have to consider her sorcery as a hobby."
The commissaris got up. "It's late, gentlemen, and you will want to go to bed. Tomorrow is another day and we'll see what it brings. I'll get hold of IJsbrand Drachtsma and make an appointment with him for the afternoon. You should be there as well and we can ask all the questions we want to ask without military policemen and diplomats hovering around us. Phone me at one o'clock tomorrow and I'll tell you when he is coming. Tomorrow morning you should try and find the man with the Edam cheese face, the fellow who wears a red waistcoat and who has a small son who plays with a ball. You can ask everybody in the area and show your sketch. While you find the red waistcoat I'll be contacting the police in and find out as much as I can about Maria van Buren's background. Good night."