‘Like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about; you can search me if you like.’ This was directed to Vermeer. ‘Don’t forget here.’ He grabs his crotch.

‘If you’re searched it’ll be back at the station by a couple of my male colleagues,’ Vermeer says. ‘They don’t really have a soft touch, and they’re very thorough. So, tell us everything about him.’

‘I’ve seen him around a bit. One night he got rowdy with us and got us all chucked out. Not seen him since, lucky enough for him.’

‘We need to speak to him. Any idea where we can find him?’

‘No idea, hardly knew the guy. And like I said already, pretty sure I’ve not seen him since then.’

He resists all further questioning and eventually we let him go. As we’re walking away he calls out to us. ‘Hey, wanna know why I’m called Snake?’

‘No.’

He sticks his tongue out and waggles it around. And there it is, a split making his tongue slightly forked.

‘Botched tongue-tie operation when I was a kid,’ he says. He sticks it out and waggles it again, before walking away, his fist raised, middle finger pointing right at the sky.

Back at the station we each go our own way, frustrated that yet another lead has just crumpled. But a couple of hours later Beernink comes through for us. He gets me on the phone, telling me he’s pulled the files from his offsite storage and is now sitting in his car in the car park going through them.

‘Anything which might tell us of Akkerman’s whereabouts?’ I ask.

‘We’ve got a correspondence address which was in use just over nine months ago when Akkerman’s inheritance was finally settled. Do you want it?’

‘Phone number, email?’

‘Not so far. I’ll carry on going through, if you need …?’

I get the feeling he wants to go home.

‘Give me the address, and if you get anything else then call me back.’

He tells me and I relay it to Vermeer who punches it into her phone.

‘Look at that, less than ten minutes away from the flat Huisman rents. Didn’t you say he used to live in Maastricht?’

‘Yeah, and now he’s moved close to his old buddy’s place.’

‘And then someone else dies in a way which perfectly matches a murder Huisman only got off from because of an alibi given to him by his BFF.’

I check the time; we’ve got a little over thirty minutes till I’m supposed to be meeting the man who handled the sublet.

‘Think we’ve got time to check it out?’

‘Let’s do it,’ Vermeer says.