‘Sounds fair,’ I reply, offering my hand to help him to his feet. He accepts and rises from the floor, slinging the bag which contains all his earthly belonging over his shoulder.

We walk past a number of bustling shops with Christmassy window displays before turning into a narrow side street on the left and approaching Liam’s favourite deli.

I hold the door open, which the two men thank me for, and choose a table with a view of the cobbled lane. Zed snatches up one of the laminated menus and silently peruses his options.

I glance up and notice the woman behind the counter observing our table with a certain degree of disgust and I feel a pang of sympathy for our lunch guest. Thankfully, he is oblivious.

After a few minutes, she approaches the table with a notepad and pen, enquiring if we are ready to place our orders. Liam has his answer out almost before she has finished asking the question. ‘I’ll have the chicken pasta primo, please.’

‘Make that two,’ I add.

‘Ummm…I’ll have broccoli cheddar soup te start, the Chicken Alfredo for main and…’ he pauses whilst he consults the dessert menu, ‘I’ll need a ween of minutes to decide on the cake.’

We add our drinks to the order and she leaves the table.

‘A three-course meal? You best have some useful information!’ Liam laughs.

I retrieve a still from my bag of the CCTV footage from outside Limas, featuring the unknown homeless man and Zed and push it under his nose. ‘What can you tell us about this?’

‘I didnae dae anything te’im!’ shouts Zed, already on the defensive.

‘OK, so talk us through what happened’ I say, quietly, in the hope Zed will follow suit.

‘Well, I was just up at the offie getting a bottle to help pass the night, you know? When Limas is open at the weekends, my mate Charlie and me like to watch the girls go by in their wee skirts so I was on my way to his house.’

‘House?’ I ask.

‘Doorway,’ he confirms. ‘It’s the one beside the bar, best view, so I was scootin’ down there to meet him and I get there and some fucker is laying down on his card. I ask him politely to vacate the premises and when he doesn’t make a move, I grab him and tell him in no uncertain terms where to go and what’ll happen if I see him again. With that, he turns and limps up the other end of town.’

‘Did you know the man?’

‘No,’ he shakes his head emphatically and puffs out his chest, ‘and I’m a well-connected man, d’ye know what I mean? Anyone on the street I tend te know, and anyone on the street tends te knows me. That’s why I was surprised to find someone in Charlie’s space.’

‘Could you describe him?’ I venture.

He looks up at the ceiling with a tilted head. ‘Aye. He had a shite beard, like a wee boy who hasn’t had te shave yet but wants to keep a bit of fluff to impress his mates. He had his hood up but it looked like he was bald. Hard te tell ‘cos he was fair tall. To be honest, he didn’t seem homeless. Look at the state of me,’ he says, motioning to his clothes, ‘this is what fucking homeless looks like. Naw, this man had a pretty smart coat on, and not a mark on his boots.’