‘Armed with this wee snippet, we went back together and had another pass at Ms Bagan,’ said Zoe. ‘Amidst copious tears and earnest entreaties not to tell anybody – so everybody hold your ears, because we promised – she admitted that McDiarmid’s morning workout tended to be at the salon rather than the gym. They would have a wee sesh before the place opened, then he’d pop in later in the day, all business, acting like nothing was going on. Yesterday morning apparently went to form, except that when McDiarmid nipped out the back door for a post-coital fag, he never came back in. Lisa thought he had just taken off because it was getting on for opening time and they didn’t want to risk being seen together out of hours, as it were.’

‘Because of Arlene?’ Catherine asked dubiously.

‘No,’ said Laura. ‘Because Lisa Bagan is in an on-off relationship with Gary Fleeting: Class A drug dealer, Class A bampot and long-term close associate of one Francis Callahan.’

‘Is she now?’ said Catherine, glancing down at the name circled on her list. She wrote Fleeting’s name next to Callahan’s, but something about the former jarred for reasons she couldn’t quite recall.

‘Lisa seemed to think it was their big romantic secret, but it appears they weren’t quite as discreet as they thought. Everyone in the salon knew. In fact, according to Paula Graham, the only two folk in Glasgow who didn’t know were Arlene Ross and Gary Fleeting.’

‘And perhaps in light of developments, we may have to revise that estimate down by one,’ Catherine stated, though there was something about this latest revelation that still didn’t sit right. She couldn’t place what it was, but there was definitely a reason it didn’t quite fit the picture. It was like trying to remember what other film an actor was in before the days of the IMDb.

‘There’s a strip of parking bays in front of the parade of shops,’ Laura went on. ‘According to Lisa, McDiarmid parked there when he was popping in on business. For his more discreet morning visits, he parked on Capletburn Drive or Langton Drive, which are connected by the back lane running parallel to the parade. We found his Audi Q7 parked on Langton Drive, about sixty yards north of the entrance to the lane. Lisa puts his post-shag puff at around eleven fifty.’

‘It seems reasonable to infer that he never made it back to his car,’ Catherine said. ‘And if so, it’s quite possible he was abducted from the same lane as he was later dumped in. Someone get on to Fleeting. Find out what he’s been up to over the last twenty-four hours.’

That was when she remembered what was wrong.

‘Hang on, didn’t we just bang him up recently? He’s on remand, awaiting trial.’

She saw Raeside shaking his head; she assumed in disappointment or frustration.