The message scrawled on the mirror in scarlet lipstick read Call 0870 246 1780, say you're with the con. It took me a minute to work out that this was the central booking line for the Cosmopolitan hotel group. That could only mean one thing – it was going down at the Normandy. It was a smart choice and no mistake. Handy for the airport, just off the motorway and a quick cab ride from Paisley Gilmour Street train station. They could pull in whatever numbers they needed without tipping off the authorities. The function space was a sweet little self-contained bundle too, meaning they could get up to whatever they fancied and not freak out John Q Hotelguest. My one chance to snoop was the open area out the back. I knew their type, knew that they couldn't resist the chance to run around in that torrid Scottish summer sunshine. Well, it looked like I better get on the horn and order a bed for the weekend. Please note that you must book over the phone to get a room in our allocation. Those of you with Astro-telescopes (or Google Earth) can see the hotel here.