The Roggeveenstraat was like many of the streets in Amsterdam. Outside of the tourist route, it was narrow, some trees, and showing its years more than most streets. Bakker managed to find a parking space near the address.
It turned out to be a three-story late nineteenth-century red brick building with large windows and looked empty. Wall took a couple of steps back to study it.
Many of the buildings on the street were residential. This had been an office, but difficult to say how long it had been empty. Frosted window film covered the bottom half of the large rectangular windows, making it impossible for anyone to look in.
Bakker tried to peer in through the letterbox in the dark green door. "There is some post on the floor, but I can't make out who it is for."
"That's good."
"Good? What's good about that?"
"Dates on the envelopes will tell us how long the building has been empty unless someone has been picking up the post."
"I would have thought of that."
"I can pick the lock if you want," Wall said.
"Please don't, we are not one hundred percent certain this is the right address."
"Of course it is. The address was on the invoice."
"That could be a fake. We have to prove this is the right place before we enter. Police rules."
"No problem." Wall took his iPhone out of his inside jacket pocket, lifted the flap of the post-box and stuck the mobile through the slot. The camera flash could be seen through the small window above the door.
Together they studied the photo.
"It's impossible to read the addresses. The print is far too small." Bakker said.
Using his index and middle finger Wall zoomed in on the letters; "Medroep' was now more than clear.
"Okay," Wall said. "Let's try to keep the investigative part with the two of us. But we need to call the chief and get your forensics team to come over and go over this place with a microscope. I bet we'll find fingerprints, DNA, and all types of evidence in here. Hell, we might even find traces of the bird man."