‘Look at it this way, on character alone you’ve got a small-time dealer funding his own habit, and he and a friend tricking women into having sex with them on camera. What’s not to like? I was sure he was the one, until the alibi surfaced. At which point there wasn’t much we could do.’

‘So this all hinges on the report not being done properly. Any evidence of that?’

I pull out Wilders’ spiral-bound diary, open it to the right page and slide it across the desk in a rather showy way. She reads it then passes it over to Jansen.

‘So the day Wilders was doing his report on the video tape happens to be the very day he gets a call saying his sister was rushed to hospital and he left early. And as a result he didn’t complete the full report, like the verifying of the time stamp?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Lucky for him he died this morning, otherwise I’d have him brought up on a disciplinary.’ She picks up the notebook again. ‘What did Wilders die of?’

The chances of his death being related to this crime are slim to none, but I’d checked anyway. Seems Vermeer has as suspicious a mind as I do.

‘Heart attack apparently. I did ask for the full report, just in case.’

‘Jansen,’ Vermeer says, turning to him, ‘run Huisman through the system. I want to know everything about him.’

‘And Akkerman too,’ I tell him. ‘You potentially fake an alibi for a friend, starts to make it look like you might actually be involved yourself.’

Vermeer gives Jansen the nod.

Once he’s gone Vermeer cranks up the charm.

‘If this turns out to be significant, it’s a pretty major fuck-up.’

It’s hard to disagree with her assessment. And it happened on my watch. Though it’s not strictly speaking my fault. Hank de Vries was the one in charge of that particular piece of evidence, and he reported to me that it was solid. I didn’t go and check his work; we were equals, and he was a good cop. I can’t believe this is happening.

Jansen walks back in with a laptop. The dog, which has been lying at Vermeer’s feet, gets up and wants to check out what Jansen is carrying. It jumps up and puts its front paws on the table. Vermeer brushes it off without even looking at it. Claws hit the floor.

‘Nothing on Akkerman, but I’ve got Huisman’s file. Arrest for heroin possession two years ago, then nothing.’

‘Known address?’

‘None.’

‘Get Roemers onto it,’ Vermeer tells him. ‘I think it’s time we had a chat with Messrs Huisman and Akkerman.’

‘When you find either of them I should be there,’ I tell Vermeer as Jansen disappears again.

‘Why?’

‘Because I’ve interviewed them before, and it’ll unnerve them if I suddenly turn up on their doorstep.’