Outsider in Amsterdam Read Online Free PDF

to return. He has been depressed and he did mention the possibility of suicide. Man is free and has the right to take his own life, I have heard him say it at least three times. He knew he wasn’t very well liked but he couldn’t make himself likable.Perhaps someone came to see him, perhaps there was an argument, perhaps someone hit him and perhaps Piet was so upset that he hanged himself after whoever it was left him.”
    “Who would have argued with him?” de Gier asked.
    “You?”
    “No,” van Meteren said. “I don’t argue with anyone. Whenever Piet had one of his moods I avoided him. This is a very big house; there is always another room.”
    “Were you friendly with Piet?”
    “Yes, but I wasn’t his friend. I don’t believe in friendship. Friendship is a feeling of the moment. Moments pass. I have neither friends nor enemies. The people around me are the people around me, I accept them.”
    “What are you doing in this house?” de Gier asked.
    Van Meteren laughed. “Nothing. I live here. Piet invited me in. I was living in a small room in a boarding house. A cheap place although the rent was high. In a narrow street on the fourth floor, very little light and you can breathe the fumes of the street. The nearest tree was a mile away. I spent most of my free time walking around and had my meals at Chinese restaurants, as often as I could afford to. If I couldn’t eat in a restaurant I would have a sandwich in a park. This place has a restaurant and I tried to have a meal here but they wanted me to become a member. I had to go to Piet’s office and pay him twenty-five guilders and fill in a form. That’s how we met. He seemed to like me straightaway and offered me a room, two hundred guilders a month including as many meals as I wanted.”
    “That’s very cheap,” de Gier said.
    “Very,” van Meteren agreed. “But he may have had a reason. Perhaps he wanted a policeman in the house. I am not on the regular force but I do have a uniform and I am properly trained. There’s a bar in the place, clients may be difficult at times.”
    “Did he ever make use of your services?”
    “Once or twice,” van Meteren said. “I have taken guests into the streets but I didn’t hurt anybody. The grips we were taught are either defensive or merely meant to transport a suspect without causing him any undue pain.”
    Grijpstra smiled, he remembered the textbook phrase.
    “Was Piet a homosexual?” de Gier asked.
    It was van Meteren’s turn to smile.
    “You are a real policeman,” he said. “But perhaps you are wrong this time. I have thought of it for he often visited me in my room, he was interested in my collection of stones and shells and wanted me to tell him stories about New Guinea. He wanted to know what Papuans eat and what our religion is and whether we used any herbs or drugs and if we danced. But he never bothered me. Whenever he felt that I wanted to be alone he would leave at once. No, Piet liked women even if they caused him trouble.”
    “Did they?” de Gier asked.
    “Always. He wanted to own them, to dominate them.”
    “I thought women liked to be dominated,” de Gier said.
    “Yes. But not by Piet. He had little charm and tried to make them ridiculous, especially when he had an audience. So the women became bitter and attacked him and hurt him in his pride. He had a lot of pride. And in the end they would leave him.”
    “You don’t make him sound a very nice person,” de Gier said.
    Van Meteren shook his head. “No, no. He wasn’t all that bad. He meant well.”
    “No friend, no enemy,” de Gier said.
    “Yes,” van Meteren said. “I try to be detached, to keep my distance. People are the way they are; it’s hard to try to change them.”
    “And that’s the reason you drink tea,” Grijpstra said.
    Van Meteren thought for a while. “I do other things as well.”
    * * *
    “We are getting nowhere,” Grijpstra thought, and asked for more tea. Van Meteren filled his cup.