"Who went to bed with you?" the commissaris asked.

Gyske shook her wealth of golden hair. "I went to bed with Anne. It was my decision. And we didn't use the bed; the bed is Sjurd's, from his grandparents, I won't use that bed for that. I did it over there."

Surprised, Grijpstra looked at the cupboard door.

"Yes," Gyske said. "On a shelf. Wide enough. It's okay for sitting on and leaning back. Sjurd got upset too, when he heard."

"You went into details when you talked to your husband?" the commissaris asked.

"Isn't that what Sjurd wanted? Didn't I have to make a complete confession? And what did it all amount to, any- way? Hadn't it come to an end a long time ago? I knew it wouldn't last. I wasn't doing it anymore. But Sjurd had to know everything, that's what he kept saying. I had to tell all, and then it would be all right forever. Anne no longer came to visit because I no longer cared for treatment. He was in love with me, Anne said, but later he changed his tale. He let me do it because bis wife was a lesbian. Some reason, right? What sort of reason could that be? I told him never to come again. That's a month ago now."

"And Sjurd suspected?" the commissaris asked.

"He sensed it. He kept nosing about. It made me so nervous. If I came clean it would be good between us again, Sjurd told me ten times a day. We could make a fresh start."

Grypstra covered his eyes with his hand.

"Right," Gyske said. "I'm a silly goose. But you men never give in, do you now? So I told him this evening that Anne and I… in the cupboard and all… and Sjurd ran off, beside himself with fury. To Anne's house. He broke Anne's glasses. Anne's wife stood next to the poor man. Me too, I had run after Sjurd, and then Sjurd hit Anne in the mouth, Anne's lips were bleeding, and he hit him once more, and again.