“The fact of the matter is, Jack,” Cowan began, and from the way he side-eyed the front door, Logan knew that this was it. “I haven’t worked with Archie in a year or more now. I… offloaded my business interests. All of them, apart from this place, and a couple of bookies. I’m too old to be throwing my weight around these days, and the adult entertainment market has… well, it’s changed. And not for the better.”

“You sold your share of the business?” Logan asked. “To who?”

“My nephew.”

“Nephew?” Logan’s brow furrowed as he mentally ran through what he knew of Cowan’s family tree. Shuggie didn’t have kids of his own, but there was a sister, right enough. Maybe two. Neither one had ever been in any bother, though, as far as Logan could remember.

“Frankie. His name’s Frankie. He’s… ambitious. Full of big ideas.”

“Let me guess, Shuggie. ‘He’s a good kid, just misguided.’ Is that what you’re going to tell me?”

Cowan took another draw on his cigarette. Logan couldn’t help but notice the shake as he raised it to his mouth.

“Christ, no. Frankie is… I don’t want to say one-of-a-kind, because he isn’t. He’s a dime a bloody dozen. Wee guy with an attitude problem and a temper on a hair-trigger. Sure you’ve seen plenty of them in your time.”

He had. Of course, he had. Far too many of the gobby little bastards.

“Except with Frankie, there’s no off switch,” Cowan continued. “He’s always been the same. Got expelled from God knows how many schools for fighting. And when I say ‘fighting,’ I mean life-changing injuries type of fighting.”

“How come I’ve never heard of him?” Logan asked. “If he’s such a bad bastard, why has he never come up before now?”

“He’s young. And he’s smarter than he looks. After he eventually got kicked out of school, I got him a job. Aye, perfectly legitimate, working in a corner shop I had. I kept an eye on him, which kept his maw happy, and everything was golden. For a while, anyway.”

Cowan sat back nursing his coffee, the smoke from his cigarette encircling his head like a halo. “He was… what? Sixteen? Seventeen, maybe? Something like that. Anyway, about a week after he starts, I start getting complaints.”

“From customers?” Logan asked.

The other man shook his head. “From some of the other lads I had working for me. Big lads. Serious. Not your average shop staff, shall we say?”

“What were they saying?”