Still, the fact remains someone did burn down my houseboat, and I’m finding it increasingly hard to believe that it was just a random act, regardless of what Vermeer thinks. Something about DH Biotech’s not right, I can feel it, and I’m hoping that Bastiaan Polman is going to help us find out what it is. I check the time. Ten minutes until the deadline expires. Vermeer’s put down the biro and has moved on to ripping up a sheet of paper into little bits. Once done she piles them up in a heap and starts on another sheet.

I put my feet up and stare at the ceiling, wondering how I can let Joel know that I had to pay well over a thousand euros for Kush’s medical bill. I make a note to myself to look into pet insurance. Then I think that maybe if I take out a policy today and ask the vets to change the date on the invoice to some time next week I could get it covered. Not sure they’ll go for that, though. Not least because technically it’s insurance fraud. But damn, a thousand euros? I pull out the bill and look at it closely, wondering if I could just change the date manually with a black pen. After a while I decide that it’s not going to work. I’ll have to think of something else.

‘You think he’s gonna show?’ Vermeer finally asks, once she has five heaps on the desk in front of her.

‘He’ll show. If not, he’s going viral. Actually, I think I caught you on video whipping him, maybe I’ll post that one too.’

Which earns me one of Vermeer’s favourites, the sweet smile with the middle finger. To distract myself I turn my mind to worrying about Sabine. I tried to call her earlier but she didn’t answer. I’m pretty sure she must’ve simply gone off me, absurd as that sounds. The door opens again – disturbing a new heap Vermeer has been painstakingly working on – and a different uniform informs us that a Mr Polman’s lawyer had called to say they’ve been delayed, but they will be here in an hour and a half.

‘Okay, so he didn’t kill himself,’ Vermeer says. ‘At least there’s that.’

Jansen bounces past in his running gear. I notice he’s wearing the shoes I bought him, despite the colour.

‘Tracked down the next one?’ I ask.

Jansen shakes his head.

‘But you’ve got time to go for a run?’ says Vermeer. I’m not sure if she’s joking or not.

‘Yeah,’ he says in not the most friendly tone and jogs off.

Vermeer looks at me and shrugs.