Insch settled onto the bonnet next to him, the bag of carrot sticks plonked down between them. ‘Because Zander is ruled more by this. . .’ He poked himself in the chest. ‘Than this. . .’ The finger doinked off the side of his forehead a couple of times. ‘We called the police, went round, demanded our property back, and her father gave us this big sob story about how she’d tried to kill herself and she’s a good kid really and we can’t blame her for being mentally ill.’

‘And Zander. . .? ’

‘Hook, line, and stinker. Didn’t want to be responsible for her taking another overdose.’

‘Yeah, well, I suppose you can’t blame him for. . .’ Logan dragged out his notebook. ‘Hold on, her dad told us she’d slit her wrists.’

‘That was at Christmas. She took an overdose in February: Valentine’s Day.’ A nod. ‘Nothing like it for bringing out the suicidal romantics.’

‘The bastards lied to us, again.’

Insch cleared his throat, looked down at his huge shoes. ‘I heard about Samantha, and the fire. I’m sorry.’

Everyone was always sorry.

Logan cricked his neck from side to side. ‘What about you? How’s Miriam and the kids getting on? ’

‘Apparently Canada’s lovely this time of year. Anna’s got a boyfriend. Can you believe that? Only eleven and she’s got a boyfriend. Haven’t seen her or Brigit for two years. . .’ Insch chewed on the inside of his sunken cheek for a bit. ‘Miriam’s getting married in September. He’s called Jeff, owns a restaurant in Vancouver.’ The word ‘Jeff’ was pronounced as if it tasted bad.

‘Sorry.’

‘It is what it is.’ Insch crunched his way through another carrot. Then stared off into the middle distance. ‘Speaking of arsehole boyfriends: I need you to do me a favour.’

Wonderful. ‘Oh aye? ’

‘Nichole Fyfe. Her ex has been causing trouble: turning up at her hotel, declaring undying love, having a go at the security team, threatening her driver, throwing his weight around. Won’t take “You were dumped four years ago” as an answer.’

‘So she wants to make a formal complaint? ’

‘This is the movies, Logan. The leading lady doesn’t make complaints about her ex-boyfriend stalking her, she gets someone else to do it for her. And I don’t want the papers getting hold of it.’

Logan couldn’t keep the laugh in. ‘Your film’s all over the gossip mags, and the radio, and the TV, and—’

‘That’s not the point. Nichole doesn’t want to look like a big-headed diva who’s too good for Aberdeen. And I don’t want her distracted and not focusing on her job.’ He shoogled the bag, then held it out. ‘Want one? ’

‘So, what: you want me to go lean on him? Read him the riot act? Get him to fall down the stairs a couple of times? ’