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said. "So we think. It didn't show too well."
    Mem didn't understand.
    "He was burned too," Grijpstra said, lowering his voice, smiling his apology sadly. Lieutenant Sudema touched Mrs. Scherjoen's shoulder. "Mem," the lieutenant said, "we're sorry, Mem."
    "The duvel," Mrs. Scherjoen said, "he's got him now. Douwe was always frightened of fire. He dreamed about flames that came to take him. I had to wake him up then and make him turn over, but the flames would return and he'd yell and yell. He was afraid of the devil."
    Lieutenant Sudema coughed. "Yes."
    "Thank you for the coffee," Grijpstra said from the door. "We'll come back another time—tomorrow, will that suit you? We have a few questions."
    "Gyske'U be along soon," the lieutenant said. Mrs. Scherjoen didn't hear him. Sudema got up and walked over to Grijpstra. "I'd better stay. Could you tell Gyske to hurry over? I'll join you as soon as I can, in the café perhaps. My corporal will take you there, you must be hungry."
    Grijpstra and de Gier walked back to the village.
    "Even here," Grijpstra said, waving an arm. "How can that be? Within the peace of unspoiled nature?"
    "Even here, what?"
    "The duvel ," Grypstra said. "And a marriage that was no good. Couldn't Scherjoen be nice to his wife? She's a great person, it seems to me."
    De Gier studied wildflowers growing at the side of the moat.
    "I was nice to my wife," Grijpstra said. "In many marriages, at least one partner is good. She released me. Douwe could have given Mem her freedom. The bad side lets the good side go."
    De Gier ambled on.
    "Hey," Grijpstra said.
    "I'm confused," de Gier said. "Your comparison isn't clear. You mean you're a good side?"
    "Aren't I?"
    "Let's do some work," de Gier said.
    "You work," Grijpstra said. "I'll enjoy the walk."
    "I thought I was just going to be company."
    "You're here," Grijpstra said. "You can talk to me."
    "Right," de Gier said. "Douwe Scherjoen was no good. A selfish grabber. Bought and sold for cash and evaded taxes. Had his good times in Amsterdam while his wife slaved at home. A fortune in his mouth, and his wife is the maid, the gravel raker, the free help in his mansion. Douwe is too much of a skinflint to build a little fence around a glorious oak. But he did know he was bad, for the devil pursued him."
    "He dreamed about pursuing flames," Grijpstra said. "My dreams are quite pleasant."
    "Are we discussing you?" de Gier asked. "Have you been shot and soaked with gasoline and burned and made to float with the garbage? Was it your skull staring at me in the pathologist's cave?"
    "Why was so much violence applied?" Grijpstra asked. 'The war is over. You're too young, you don't remember recent history, but Frisians can be quite violent. The resistance was fiercer here than anywhere else in the country. German soldiers were often shot and burned."
    "I remember the way Douwe's skull looked at me," de Gier said. "From the hereafter. He begged me for revenge."
    "Leave the hereafter for later. We're looking for the tangible present. What was the motive? What living entity benefits from subject's death? Who had the opportunity to knock him off? No mysticism, Sergeant."
    "The hereafter is now," de Gier said pleasantly. "Let me work from my own angle." He stopped and took a deep breath. "The air here is clear. But evil is about. The tax detectives are lurking even here, and they know something; maybe they'll tell us. We're out of our depth; if they're Frisian too, maybe they won't tell us. Everything is different here, the locals even think in another language."
    "I'm well within my depth," Grypstra said, "and I'll get into this slowly. Life is slower here." He smiled at a sheep ruminating in high grass. "I may have some lambchops soon, and Frisian fried potatoes and some of the lieutenant's fresh tomatoes. I'll find suitable quarters while you fetch the commissaris. In order to pursue our investigation properly, we'll need permission from local authority. The commissaris can