He ordered a sparkling mineral water and took it to the table in the furthest corner from the door where he could see the comings and goings of the pub, switching his mobile back on as he sat down. Despite the stern talking-to he had just given himself in his mind, he couldn’t help but feel a wariness as he realized that the man he had heard called Glasgow Joe continued to look at him. Marshall tried to concentrate on the near-naked pole dancer who shimmied like a bowl of jelly to some vaguely identifiable Seventies disco nonsense. All of the other tables were empty; what customers there were in the place were crowded around the stage, and, unlike him, they didn’t seem to have to feign interest in the stripper. She wasn’t attractive to him and she wasn’t a potential client, so what was the point in looking? Graham wondered.

Marshall’s phone rang and he stood up and made his way to the front door to avoid anyone eavesdropping on the call. Wisely, Kelly had obviously had second thoughts about a face-to-face confrontation and was going to try it all anonymously. The door slammed shut behind him and he pressed the green button to answer.

‘Pull the scarf more tightly round your neck,’ a woman’s voice purred. ‘We don’t want you catching your death, do we?’

He didn’t reply. His eyes scanned the horizon for Kelly. It didn’t sound like her, but she would no doubt try to disguise her voice or get a friend to call for her. If only she had put this much imagination into her performances in the bedroom, he might not have got bored so quickly. She was close by, watching him, he was sure of it. His ears were tuned into her soft, steady breath. He closed his eyes, just for a second, and imagined his hands around her throat, squeezing every last drop of air from her lungs. What would that be like? Would he enjoy watching as her eyes bulged and she gave up trying to scream?

‘Cat got your tongue?’ she said, interrupting his reverie. ‘We can be nasty or nice, it’s up to you.’ She hardened her tone. ‘It’s no skin off my nose. Either way, you’ll pay.’

‘I don’t know what you’re selling,’ Marshall replied, tightening his jaw and listening to the nuances of her breath. This definitely wasn’t Kelly–there was no accent as such, it was unlikely such a caller would have given anything away in such a manner, he supposed, but there was no trace of Kelly at all from what he could tell. So, she’d brought a third player to the table, had she? If they were as stupid as she was, it wouldn’t make any difference.