‘If the wee knob knows he’s all alone in there, he’ll get restless. Might kick up a fuss, bang on the sides of the van, try to get himself a wee bit of help. Terry’ll be good company for him: make sure he does the right thing.’

The Turf ’n Track’s door opened with a bleep, announcing their arrival into a clean, sparkling room with one wall of floor-to-ceiling flatscreen TVs. Another wall was covered in pages from the Racing Post, listing all the meetings, runners and riders. And all the way across the front: a long counter manned by three attractive young blonde women in green-and-yellow uniforms cut just low enough to show a bit of cleavage. All of them wearing enough slap to sink a Debenhams makeup counter.

Three men in suits sat at a breakfast bar thing in the middle of the room, watching the races, eating paninis, and sipping bottles of Corona with lime wedged in the neck.

Bit of a change from the old place.

Logan sniffed. The betting shop smelled of lemon air freshener instead of stale cigarettes, and the roof wasn’t the colour of a smoker’s lung. ‘I liked it better when the floor was all sticky.’

Reuben lumbered up to the counter and slammed one big hand down in front of cashier number three.

She flinched. Recoiled back in her seat, then took a breath and straightened up and plastered a smile on her face. ‘Welcome to the Turf ’n Track, Aberdeen’s premier venue for—’

‘Tell Creepy he’s got visitors.’

The smile slipped a bit. ‘Creepy. . .? ’

‘Colin McLeod. Or his brother the gimp, don’t care. But you get him out here before I start sticking your punters through your fancy TVs, understand? ’

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. Then leaned over to one side, obviously trying to make it look natural as she reached underneath the counter and jabbed at something. ‘Please, sir, there’s no—’

‘Think I can’t see you fingering the panic button? ’

A blush crept across her cheeks, strong enough to bleed through the heavy layers of foundation. ‘It’s my first day. I didn’t. . . Please don’t hurt me? ’

The door behind the counter marked ‘Staff Only’ opened and a man stepped into the room: broad-shouldered with a puddingy face, a chunk of ear missing one side, a pair of black wraparound shades hiding his eyes. He jerked his chin up. ‘There a problem, Naomi? ’

‘It’s not my fault, Mr McLeod, he came in and he’s threatening people and it’s my first day and I didn’t—’

‘All right. You go for a wee cup of tea. I’ll deal with it.’

Reuben took a step back and cricked his head to one side. ‘Well, well, well: look who the dogs dragged in.’