Neither his tone nor his expression betrayed any sense of satisfaction. It was almost as though he was concerned for her. There was no hint of goading in his face, and yet that made it all the more effective, for goading it unquestionably was. At least it let her know she had riled him that much.

‘The only thing that fucks me – off, on, up, down or in any other manner – is my husband,’ she replied.

‘Rather him than me,’ said Fleeting, under his breath but intentionally loud enough for everyone present to hear.

‘I don’t doubt it,’ Laura responded. ‘If a silly wee lassie like Lisa Bagan’s more your type, you must be shit scared of a woman who isn’t shit scared of you. And yet you weren’t enough even for a silly wee lassie like that. She had to go to Jai McDiarmid to get some proper service.’

Fleeting just laughed: a smirking, spurting, snottery effort.

‘Need tae try harder, hen. You think I was that bothered aboot her? She was the one kidding herself there was still anything going on. Far as I was concerned, that was over. A lassie that’s shagging somebody else isnae worth a fuck any more, and a fuck was all she was worth in the first place.’

‘Well, she was certainly a fool to pass you up, you silver-tongued devil,’ said Catherine, drawing it to a close, acutely aware that there was no profit to be had in tarrying any further. ‘I’ll be speaking to you both again,’ she added, by way of taking her leave.

‘I doubt it,’ said Fleeting, predictably seizing the last word as a waiter rushed to hold open the doors for him and Callahan.

Laura was fizzing as they crossed the street to their car, her face flushed and thunderous.

‘Quite the Renaissance man, Mr Fleeting, isn’t he?’ Catherine remarked, trying to defuse the mood.

Laura simply shook her head, as though too mad to speak and attempting to shake off how she was feeling. She got into the car and closed the door with a slam.

‘Prick,’ was as much as she could manage.

‘Prick with a bastard of an alibi,’ Catherine reminded her, bringing it back to business.

The thought seemed to clear the fog of anger and focus Laura’s thoughts.

‘It’s a complicated alibi,’ she opined. ‘In bed with some lassie who might not have woken up until after the time of the abduction. Then he’s down the Nutters and Cutters all afternoon, he says, but let’s face it, aside from the reliability of the witnesses, he can make sure he’s seen at the bar around kick-off, then again at full-time, and that still leaves a big gap to get busy in between. He was way too eager to account for his time. They both were, eh?’