Yesterday we saw the Amsterdam police again. The agents investigating Bill's death told us that they were treating the case as a possible murder. They asked us whether we had known Bill for long. We said that we had only just met him. It was odd that one the detectives on the case was from SOCA in London, and he was curious to know what I was up to in Paris. When I said that I did not know, and that I was being treated for memory loss, he asked me if I did drugs. I replied maybe, but not since I lost my memory. That brought a nervous laugh into the room, a small office in the Raamport police station that was responsible for the Herengracht and the canal area. It seems that I am not known to them, which is a relief. At least I can see my psychologist this week with a clear conscience. It would be scary if I turned out to be some gangsta's moll on the run. Bill told us very little about his life, other than to say that he had fallen on hard times in Amsterdam. He had had a good job in the City in London, but developed an expensive heroin habit and came over to Amsterdam, where he worked as a cannabis breeder. That was how he met Aum Baba, and they fell out over money. He claimed that the Church of Aum had some curious links to the CIA and the Mossad, although much of what he said sounded a bit like the usual ganja paranoia. Perhaps there was a grain of truth in it. If SOCA new about him he must have been up to something, or on to something, that was serious. His 2012 theory does have one odd fact that concerns me. My name is mentioned in the Lost Symbologist philosophers stoned in Amsterdam in which I am supposed to be making a killing with the 2012 meme. I hope that does not come back to haunt me. How I wish I had the access code to Monsieur Bateleur's time machine. Then I could go forward to 2012 and find out what was about to happen. Anyway tomorrow I am off to Paris, and I am badly in need of some retail therapy to take my mind off all this serious shit.