The Japanese Corpse by Janwillem van de Wetering Page B
Authors: Janwillem van de Wetering
Ads: Link
bought a shovel in a store close to the speedway to Utrecht. He was driving a white BMW; the storekeeper noticed the car. And some people in the same village noticed that a Japanese man was trying to clean the upholstery of a white BMW. He had parked the car on a field near a pond and was rubbing the front passenger seat with a towel or a large dustcloth. He had dipped it in the water of the pond."
"They only saw one man?" Grijpstra asked.
"Yes, but the other one was around, I suppose. Maybe waiting in the car. The witnesses aren't too clear. They are coming in tomorrow to see the suspects. I have the jokers here in Headquarters."
"Are they upset?" Grijpstra asked.
"Not very. They want to see their consul. I have phoned him. He is out but I'll phone again tomorrow morning. They smile and nod a lot and say 'Saaaaah.'"
"Yes," Grijpstra said. "I have heard the word. I wonder if it means something."
"'Don't know' probably," de Gier said. "Are you finished up there? Want to meet me for a drink?"
"No," Grijpstra said heavily. "I am going to walk home and nothing is going to disturb me."
'Thanks," de Gier said.
"A little further down this street there is somebody playing Bach on a clavichord," Grypstra said happily. "Something sad, but there is a lovely gliding rhythm in it. It starts up and dies out and starts up again. Very fresh, I think you can play it. You have it on a record, but I can't have been listening properly when you played the record. The music is delicate, starting off with a tee-táá pom pom and then some sadness comes into it, played with the left hand, a sort of slide, I think I can do it on the middle drum."
"Yes," de Gier said. "I remember, a prelude it was. You said you liked it at the time. But later on it gets intricate you know. I maybe could play some of it but I would have to be able to read it."
"Balls. I listened carefully just now. We don't have to do that intricate part, as long as we get the slide right and some of the tee-táá pom pom. I'll sing it for you, maybe it will come back to you." Grijpstra hummed.
Mrs. Fujitani was watching him. The smile had gone, but she looked peaceful.
"Yes," de Gier said. "I remember. It made me think of a man crossing a lake in a small boat. He is leaving everything behind and it saddens him, but there is also some great love being born; he is going to it."
"Yes," Grijpstra said. "Death. The man is dying, or he has died already. The lake is black, but there is a glimmer of light, silver light. Tell you what, I'll meet you at Headquarters. You've got your flute?"
"Yes," de Gier said. "Don't take too long. I'll try to remember as much as I can. There's another bit coming back to me now, the end. Beautiful. I can play it, I think, and if you use brushes you can get the left hand in. It's the man's final statement before he meets whatever he meets."
"I'll take the streetcar," Grijpstra said, "be there in fifteen, twenty, minutes."
"Can't make it too late," de Gier said. "Esther said she was coming to my apartment around eleven. She had to give an evening class tonight."
"Yes," Grijpstra said, and rang off.
"You were singing very nicely," Mrs. Fujitani said. "Would you like coffee before you go?"
"Singing? Ah yes, I was. But it is impossible, I can't sing Bach. Do you like music, Mrs. Fujitani?"
"Koto," she said. "It is a type of guitar. But I am not good at it. I took classes as a child and I sometimes play for my husband now, when he is very tired, or upset about something. Here, in this room."
"I would like to hear it sometime," Grijpstra said, and tried to get up, but his legs were cramped again and he couldn't stand on them. He was frantically rubbing his calves and trying to push himself up, but there was nothing to hold on to and he grunted and fell back.
"I am sorry," Mrs. Fujitani said, "but there are no chairs in this room, they wouldn't look right. I should have served you downstairs, but the restaurant is so noisy now."
"It's all
"They only saw one man?" Grijpstra asked.
"Yes, but the other one was around, I suppose. Maybe waiting in the car. The witnesses aren't too clear. They are coming in tomorrow to see the suspects. I have the jokers here in Headquarters."
"Are they upset?" Grijpstra asked.
"Not very. They want to see their consul. I have phoned him. He is out but I'll phone again tomorrow morning. They smile and nod a lot and say 'Saaaaah.'"
"Yes," Grijpstra said. "I have heard the word. I wonder if it means something."
"'Don't know' probably," de Gier said. "Are you finished up there? Want to meet me for a drink?"
"No," Grijpstra said heavily. "I am going to walk home and nothing is going to disturb me."
'Thanks," de Gier said.
"A little further down this street there is somebody playing Bach on a clavichord," Grypstra said happily. "Something sad, but there is a lovely gliding rhythm in it. It starts up and dies out and starts up again. Very fresh, I think you can play it. You have it on a record, but I can't have been listening properly when you played the record. The music is delicate, starting off with a tee-táá pom pom and then some sadness comes into it, played with the left hand, a sort of slide, I think I can do it on the middle drum."
"Yes," de Gier said. "I remember, a prelude it was. You said you liked it at the time. But later on it gets intricate you know. I maybe could play some of it but I would have to be able to read it."
"Balls. I listened carefully just now. We don't have to do that intricate part, as long as we get the slide right and some of the tee-táá pom pom. I'll sing it for you, maybe it will come back to you." Grijpstra hummed.
Mrs. Fujitani was watching him. The smile had gone, but she looked peaceful.
"Yes," de Gier said. "I remember. It made me think of a man crossing a lake in a small boat. He is leaving everything behind and it saddens him, but there is also some great love being born; he is going to it."
"Yes," Grijpstra said. "Death. The man is dying, or he has died already. The lake is black, but there is a glimmer of light, silver light. Tell you what, I'll meet you at Headquarters. You've got your flute?"
"Yes," de Gier said. "Don't take too long. I'll try to remember as much as I can. There's another bit coming back to me now, the end. Beautiful. I can play it, I think, and if you use brushes you can get the left hand in. It's the man's final statement before he meets whatever he meets."
"I'll take the streetcar," Grijpstra said, "be there in fifteen, twenty, minutes."
"Can't make it too late," de Gier said. "Esther said she was coming to my apartment around eleven. She had to give an evening class tonight."
"Yes," Grijpstra said, and rang off.
"You were singing very nicely," Mrs. Fujitani said. "Would you like coffee before you go?"
"Singing? Ah yes, I was. But it is impossible, I can't sing Bach. Do you like music, Mrs. Fujitani?"
"Koto," she said. "It is a type of guitar. But I am not good at it. I took classes as a child and I sometimes play for my husband now, when he is very tired, or upset about something. Here, in this room."
"I would like to hear it sometime," Grijpstra said, and tried to get up, but his legs were cramped again and he couldn't stand on them. He was frantically rubbing his calves and trying to push himself up, but there was nothing to hold on to and he grunted and fell back.
"I am sorry," Mrs. Fujitani said, "but there are no chairs in this room, they wouldn't look right. I should have served you downstairs, but the restaurant is so noisy now."
"It's all
Similar Books
