‘Don’t actually know. Claudia, what’s Snake’s real name? No? Really? No, she doesn’t know either.’

‘We need to speak to him.’

‘Well, like I said, he practically lives here. He’s in the lower bar mid-afternoon most days.’

‘Do me a favour, call me when he turns up.’

‘Anything else?’ Vermeer says once I’ve shut down the call.

I get the uncomfortable feeling she can read my mind.

I tell them about Akkerman’s mother’s address. ‘If anyone knows where Akkerman is, it’s a good bet his own mother does.’

‘And Akkerman might know where Huisman is.’ Vermeer looks round. ‘Anyone got anything better?’

It seems not.

‘Let’s do it then,’ she says. ‘We’ve got a few hours before “Snake” is supposed to appear anyway.’

I’m up already, Kush leaping into action, followed by Jansen, when Vermeer speaks.

‘Wait,’ she says to me. Then she turns to Jansen. ‘I’ll go with Rykel; you carry on working on a connection between the two victims.’

‘But I –’

Amazingly she actually silences him with a stare.

Just before I leave I lean across to Jansen. ‘Check friends in common.’

‘What?’

‘Facebook. You said they weren’t friends, but did they have any in common?’

‘I didn’t check that.’ Jansen’s cheeks colour. ‘I’ll do it right now, sir.’

As Vermeer and I exit through the front reception area I hear an angry voice.

‘Oi, I said there were to be no dogs other than official police dogs in here. My job’s bad enough as it is without having to sit here smelling dog piss all day.’

I turn to see the same duty sergeant as yesterday. He’s got the gaunt look of the long-distance runner, and the clamped jaw of a pedant.

‘Look, I’m sorry, but he’s young and I’m sure –’

‘He’s doing it again!’ the man screams.

I turn round to see that Kush has returned to the scene of the crime and is wantonly committing the exact same offence in the exact same spot.

Once outside I give him an ear scratch. ‘Good boy,’ I tell him.

‘That’s hardly responsible dog ownership,’ Vermeer points out.

‘No, but the guy’s a bit of a dick. Drama queen. Should be made of sterner stuff.’

‘Agreed. He is a bit of a dick.’

She mimics his pissy reaction so well I can’t help laughing.

‘By the way, I do the driving,’ she tells me.

‘Whatever you say, boss.’

According to Hank’s note the house number is twenty-seven and we’re currently sat outside three. A short walk down the street shows us we may have a problem. There’s a gap in the row of houses, from twenty-one to twenty-nine, a canal glittering beyond. I check the address; this was definitely it.

‘What the hell is this?’ Vermeer asks.

‘Crane fell on them,’ says a voice behind us.