"No," Lieutenant Sudema said. "He can go to Amsterdam for all I care. Anywhere in the hell below the dike. Not here. The smudge has to be rubbed off."

"And the other cheek?" Gyske asked. "Shouldn't we turn the other cheek? Aren't you Christian, Sjurd?"

"You've got two cheeks," Sjurd said, "but only one…" He stopped and thought, and concluded, "Only one." He thought again. "But what I was saying about you"-he had trouble not sliding off his chair-"that isn't true, Gyske. I've been truly stupid. You're right. I'm sorry. It'll be different from now on."

He managed to get up and steered an unsteady course for the cupboard. He clawed the handle. He skated back and pulled the cupboard door open. "Here is where it all happened, here on the shelf, in the name of the Lord. An insult to Our Lord, Gyske, by an authority of the church." He kicked the shelf, tore out the broken boards, and cracked them on his knee. "I will burn these outside. I'll take the entire cupboard out, but not now, right now I'm a little tired."

"Why don't you lie down?" Gyske asked.

"In a minute," Lieutenant Sudema said. "But the gentlemen should come along with me for a moment. I have a present for the gentlemen."

Six crates of tomatoes had been placed outside the greenhouse. "My occupation outside of work hours," Lieutenant Sudema said sadly. "More work. To sweat to please the Lord. I was wrong there too. They all got ripe at the same time. You do like tomatoes, I hope?"

"Delicious," the commissaris said.

•I'll fetch the car," Grijpstra said.

Gyske got hold of her husband. "You have to rest now, Sjurd." She pushed him into the house and came back alone, mumbling to herself. She passed the commissaris. "You're leaving us?" the commissaris asked.

"I think I'll visit Mem Scherjoen for a moment."

"A good idea," the commissaris said. "In times of stress, one needs a friend."