The commissaris enjoyed the sight. Gyske impressed him as a very attractive woman, tall and slender, her long blond hair lifted by the breeze, her body tight in gleaming leather trousers and a clinging white blouse. Coming closer, the commissaris regretted to see that she was wearing a man's jacket across her shoulders, of too large a size, and hanging down on one side.

"Evening, Mrs. Sudema."

Grijpstra introduced him. Gyske's supple hand felt moist. Her long eyelashes twitched. "Not a good time for a visit," Gyske said. "I'm sorry, yes. Problems tonight. No, this is hardly the moment."

"Your husband isn't home?"

"Visiting," Gyske said. "Sjurd is making a friendly call. He swallowed all my tranquilizers and drank some jenever. He's crying on the neighbor lady's shoulder now. She's alone too, for her man is a sailor. It's all right with me, they can do what they like."

"Marriage problems?" Grijpstra asked. "How could that be? Yesterday you and the lieutenant seemed so happy."

"Happened just now," Gyske said. "Bit of a problem. The whole thing blew up."

Grijpstra gasped. "But he just sent me some information via Corporal Hilarius."

"He had to look for comfort," Gyske said. "An hour ago, first time. Never visited the neighbor on his own before, my Sjurd, such a clumsy oaf." Gyske's laugh was shrill. She patted the side pocket of her jacket. "I took his pistol. He can't shoot himself now. He wanted to, but that's all crazy."

"Could I have the weapon?" The commissaris extended a small hand. Gyske passed him the pistol. The commissaris handed it to Grijpstra. Grijpstra pulled the clip, ejected the chambered cartridge into his hand, and dropped the various parts into his pocket.

"Why don't you tell me what happened?" the commissaris said. "Once a problem is shared, it can be solved. Let's hear about the mishap, dear lady."