The bell chimed as he entered. Marion looked up from her computer. Rebus gave a little wave and gestured towards the inner door. ‘He’s expecting me,’ he lied, turning the handle.

Fraser Mackenzie was standing behind his desk and in the middle of a phone call. He kept talking, flapping his free hand to indicate that Rebus should wait outside. Instead, Rebus sat down, crossing one leg over the other, smiling up at Mackenzie, who seemed to be losing his train of thought.

‘Look, Jimmy, I’ll have to call you back. Is that all right?’ He ended the call with a further muttered apology and gave Rebus a long, hard stare. It was a contest he was never going to win, and eventually he sighed theatrically and settled in his chair.

‘Jack Oram has an alias,’ Rebus explained. ‘Davie Loach.’

After a bit more staring, Mackenzie opened his computer and started typing. ‘No record of him,’ he said. ‘A phone call would have done, you know. Marion could have told you.’

‘Well, how about Tommy Oram? Surely you’ll know the name of one of your employees.’ Rebus watched Mackenzie shrug. ‘He does repairs to your properties, general maintenance. There was an accusation he lifted somebody’s belongings.’

Mackenzie gave a slow nod. ‘Tommy,’ he intoned.

‘Tommy Oram, son of Jack.’

‘I don’t think I ever heard him called by his surname.’

‘Not even when you took him on?’

‘That was Beth’s doing. She said he was a friend of Gaby’s.’

‘Gaby being …?’

‘Our daughter.’ Mackenzie was beginning to lose interest, busying himself with the trackpad on his computer. ‘So you’ve not found this guy Oram yet?’

‘Give me time. Have you got an address for Tommy?’

‘Marion will know.’ He glanced up at Rebus. ‘We finished here?’

Rebus couldn’t think of a reason to prolong the meeting, which was a pity, as he was enjoying needling the man.

‘Ever hear from the old owner of this place?’ he asked as he rose to his feet.

‘Not a peep.’ Mackenzie glanced up again. ‘Different spheres, Mr Rebus.’

‘Meaning you know his reputation. No qualms about taking over his business?’

Mackenzie leaned back in his chair. ‘If you have a rental portfolio of any size, everyone assumes you’re the new Peter Rachman. But the way I look at it, I’m helping people out in their time of need. A lot of them have problems and not much money, but they still deserve a roof over their head, same as you and me.’

‘You’re basically a Samaritan then, or some sort of guardian angel?’ Rebus watched the man shrug, in what he guessed was supposed to be a show of modesty. ‘Same as Cafferty before you?’

‘I bought his business, not his morals.’ Mackenzie leaned forward again, focusing on his computer.

‘What did you do before this?’