‘What of?’ Still tilting. Soon we’re going to be sliding down towards the Plexiglas.

‘Stroke. As you know, he’d got agitated and hit his head against the screen there. He was treated at the time, but he died suddenly a couple of hours later. There was nothing anyone could have done.’

Back at the car I find Vermeer on the phone. She’s spread papers out on her lap and across my seat. I scoop them up with a shaky hand and sit down. Sounds like Vermeer’s on with Jansen, working on locating Rein Benner. I feel stunned. Unreal. I pull out another pre-rolled joint. I know she’s not going to like it, and I should get out of the car, but I’m not sure my legs are going to hold. I wind down my window. Vermeer breaks off what she’s saying and holds her hand over the mic.

‘Rykel, this is a police car, you cannot do that in here. You shouldn’t even be doing it in front of me.’

I stick my head out of the window and take a few pulls.

Vermeer’s back on with Jansen, but she flashes me a look. Easy for her. She hasn’t just found out she was responsible for putting the wrong person in prison who, out of desperation, finally killed himself. More pulls. It’s starting to work.

But then I think about how long he’d been there. And I’m responsible for every second, every second of his wasted life inside. How much pain is that? How much suffering? If karma’s real, then I’m fucked.

The black wolf isn’t howling now. He’s retreated, but I know he’s still there in the darkness, stronger than ever, his lips pulled back into a ferocious grin.

I inhale a few more times until it starts to burn.

Vermeer hangs up on Jansen. ‘You done breaking the law?’ she asks.

‘I’ve been upholding the law all my career. And it’s just got an innocent man killed. So no, maybe I’m not done.’

‘Who? Who’s been killed?’

I tell her about what I’ve just learnt. I expect her to say something, maybe even tell me it’s not my fault. But she simply turns the engine on and reverses out of the space, drives through the car park and back over the speed bumps. This time she hardly slows down at all. I hit my head on the roof. I get the feeling that’s exactly what Vermeer wants to happen. We drive in silence all the way back to the station.

And still the glistening grin.

Is This a Joke?