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been in serious trouble."
    "Do you personally know the tax detectives who are working on subject's case?"
    "Please," Lieutenant Sudema said. His long dark eyelashes flicked up, and cold light flashed from his steely blue eyes. "Please. I don't want to know them."
    "Was Mr. Scherjoen hiding income?"
    "You understate," Lieutenant Sudema said. He guided his visitors to two chestnut trees behind the greenhouse. A small house was hidden under the trees. Gyske Sudema poured tea in the house while the lieutenant changed into a spotless uniform. Gyske was tight underneath, in leather pants, and well-filled above, in a taut white blouse. Her face was noble and her eyes sedate. De Gier was much impressed. So it was true about the beauty of Frisian women; he had heard tales, but then he had heard a lot of things.
    "Our Douwe is deaV Gyske whispered in sorrow.
    "So we may assume," Grijpstra said, and explained about the orl and the expensive teeth. De Gier wanted to comfort Gyske and tried to prove that nothing can ever be proved conclusively, that there might be an incorrect turn of deduction somewhere, that what seemed to have happened might be altogether off. "Dea or not deaV Gyske Sudema asked.
    "Dea" said de Gier.
    Gyske's sadness became anger. 'They can have the sjoelke. Douwe is a snyunt"
    "Who?" asked Grijpstra, suddenly aware of possible suspicion. "Who can have our Douwe?"
    She pointed to the floor. "The Helliche duvels"
    "Oh, those," Grijpstra said.
    Gyske talked on for a while.
    "Mrs. Sudema," Grijpstra asked, "what are you saying?"
    Gyske switched into Dutch. "I'm saying that Douwe was no good. He was a chauvinist, too. I won't miss our Douwe." Tears ran down Gyske's high cheekbones. "Now Mem will be free."
    "Mem?"
    "Mem means 'mother,'" Lieutenant Sudema said. "Mrs. Scherjoen's first name is really Krista, but she's rather motherly, you see, so everybody calls her Mem."
    "Krista, as in female 'Christ'?" de Gier asked.
    "Yes," Gyske said. "Christ suffered too, to redeem the sins of all of us. Mem suffered to redeem Douwe. Same thing. Douwe was as bad as all of us together."
    "Douwe is dea," de Gier said, glad that he could comfort the young woman after all. Gyske looked unsure. "Is Douwe punished now?"
    De Gier wasn't certain. "Is death a punishment?" He tried his best smile. "But he has been taken away from us; death did remove the subject. If the subject was bad, the removal would be all to the good."
    "Douwe has to be punished," insisted Gyske.
    "I wouldn't know," de Gier said. "Do you? What denomination do you belong to, ma'am?"
    Gyske was Dutch Reformed. "And you?"
    De Gier was nothing. "Of nothing," he added as clarification.
    Lieutenant Sudema fastened his belt and arranged his pistol. In his uniform he was even more handsome.
    "On foot, by bicycle, or by car?" the lieutenant asked. "Would you prefer to walk? A quarter of an hour? We can talk on the way. The Scherjoens live in a stately mansion just outside the village, on the most magnificent estate of the region. The landhûs dates back centuries."
    Lieutenant Sudema marched next to de Gier. Both were equally tall. Grijpstra ran after them, an unacceptable situation. He pushed between the two men. "What is a sjoelke?" "An asshole," the lieutenant said. "A grabber for himself. One who never thinks of others. A sour self-spoiler. A sjoelke is a smjunt."
    De Gier looked up at the splendor of elm trees that protected the path. He pointed out a variety of natural beauty. "Great land you have here."
    "Over there is a forest of beeches," Lieutenant Sudema said. "Douwe wanted to cut the trees down. He had no need of beauty. Look there, see that oak on the meadow? That oak is dead, the cows have been ripping the bark. When there's a tree in a meadow, we take the trouble to protect it with a little fence; too much trouble for Douwe."
    Grijpstra admired a cluster of hawthorns and a moat in the shadow of alders. "Why cut beeches? Don't they hold the silence? Isn't silence