‘You introduced me,’ he said. There was no accusation in his voice. ‘Then I met her in MacDonald Road.’ MacDonald Road was close to his boxing club; she must have lain in wait for him. ‘Her car had broken down.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I can never resist being a knight in shining armour. She said the latch for the boot was under the passenger dashboard. I bent in, next thing I knew there was a needle in my arse and the steering wheel was coming to meet me.’ Joe rubbed a fading bruise on his forehead. ‘I went out like a light; she’d used enough tranquillizer to drop an elephant.’

‘What did she do when you got to the farm?’ I asked. I covered his left hand with mine. He didn’t try to pull away but I could feel the muscles in his arm tense.

‘She bundled me onto a trolley, you know the type, a big bit of wood on casters,’ he said. ‘It was just like I was a hunk of meat. Funny thing with her was, it was nothing personal. Her hatred of Kevin Milne, or Marshall, whatever the fuck you want to call him, had knocked any sense she had out of her. I was just a catalyst to get what she needed.’ We travelled along Corstorphine Road, heading for the private hospital where Marshall sometimes worked, when Joe pulled the van over and parked. Sitting in the loading bay we watched Marshall’s car turn right up to the building. Wee Elvis was still beside him.

The hospital was a former convent school set high on top of Corstorphine Hill. It was surrounded by mature parkland and the oak, elm and horse chestnut trees were beginning to bud. The car park was busy; patients parked their BMWs for free and climbed the old stone steps to see their consultants. Everyone was preoccupied with their own troubles and ailments, too busy to notice two disreputable-looking characters in worn bike leathers sneaking up the driveway searching out Marshall’s car. Joe spotted it first. The Mercedes was parked way off, further up the hill outside a set of outbuildings that, although old, looked as if they had been newly renovated.