Nightfall

35

A dozen large nondescript saloon cars were parked outside the Hoyle house and a single police patrol car. Nightingale found a space about a hundred yards from the house. It was starting to rain but Jenny had brought an umbrella with her so they sheltered under it as they walked along the pavement. ‘What do you say to someone whose husband has died?’ she asked.

‘There’s nothing you can say,’ said Nightingale. ‘You’ve just got to show that you’re there for them.’

‘Will she be all right? You know, financially.’

‘Sure. He’d have insured the mortgage so the house will be paid for and there’ll be a pension. The job will have people helping her.’

‘Poor Anna. Poor, poor Anna.’

‘Has anyone close to you died, Jenny?’

‘Touch wood, I’ve been lucky so far,’ she said. ‘My granddad passed away a few years ago but he was ninety-seven. My family live for ever, pretty much.’

‘You’re lucky,’ said Nightingale.

Jenny put her arm through his. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’

‘You don’t have to walk on eggshells with me,’ said Nightingale. ‘I was a cop for almost ten years and I’ve seen more than my share of dead bodies. I’m well over my parents and Gosling – well, he was just a name. My aunt and uncle… I don’t know. That still hasn’t really hit me. I think it’s because I was in London and they were up in Altrincham. I didn’t get to see them much so in a way nothing’s changed. I mean, I know they’re dead…’ He shrugged. ‘It’s difficult to explain. I was just about coming to terms with it but now this. Now Robbie’s dead too.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘You don’t have to keep asking if I’m okay,’ said Nightingale. ‘You’re as bad as Robbie.’ He groaned. ‘God, listen to me. Talking as if he was still…’ He swore savagely.

Jenny squeezed his arm. ‘Do you want to go for a walk? We can come back later.’

‘No, we have to go in – we have to see her now.’

They walked up the path to the front door and Nightingale rang the bell. Anna’s older sister, Marie, opened the door. Her cheeks were wet from crying but she forced a smile when she saw Nightingale. ‘Jack, hello.’

‘I’m so sorry, Marie,’ said Nightingale. He hugged her and gave her a light peck on each cheek. ‘This is Jenny – she works with me.’

Marie smiled. ‘Come on in – let me take your coats. Anna’s in the sitting room.’

She was on the sofa, her arm around her eight-year-old daughter, Sarah. There were a dozen people in the room, drinking tea and making small-talk. An elderly woman Nightingale didn’t recognise was walking around with a plate of chocolate biscuits. Superintendent Chalmers was standing by the window in conversation with Hoyle’s immediate superior, a chief inspector whom Nightingale had met a couple of times. Both men nodded at him and carried on talking to each other.

Anna wiped her eyes with a handkerchief but started sobbing again when she saw Nightingale. She whispered to her daughter, got up and hurried over to him.

‘I’m so sorry, Anna,’ he said. ‘If there’s anything… you know… just ask.’

Anna hugged him and rested her head on his shoulder. ‘I still haven’t told the twins. I don’t know what to say.’

‘They’re too young to understand,’ said Nightingale.

‘They’re asking for him. Last time I said he was at work. They’re asleep now.’ She put her hands on his chest and looked into his eyes. ‘What do I say, Jack? How do I tell them that they’ll never see their father again?’

Nightingale bit his lower lip. He was finding it difficult enough to come to terms with Hoyle’s death, and couldn’t imagine how two three-year-olds would react. ‘I don’t know, Anna. All you can say is that Robbie loved them more than anything and that he’s in heaven looking down on them.’

‘Do you believe that, Jack? Do you believe he’s up there somewhere, watching us?’

‘I’d really like to think so, Anna,’ said Nightingale. He had heard the uncertainty in his voice. ‘But kids believe, and that’s what’s important.’

‘I can’t live without him, Jack.’

‘Yes, you can, Anna. We’re all here for you. We’ll get you through this.’

Tears rolled down Anna’s cheeks and she wiped her face with the handkerchief. Then she realised that Jenny was beside Nightingale. ‘Oh, Jenny, thanks for coming.’

‘If there’s anything I can do, Anna, if you need help taking care of the kids or shopping or if you need driving anywhere,’ she said, and gave her a hug.

‘Thanks so much,’ said Anna. She gestured at the woman with the biscuits. ‘Robbie’s mum was straight around and she’s staying with me until…’ She wiped her eyes again. ‘Until, I don’t know…’

‘Are you okay for money, love?’ asked Nightingale.

Anna nodded. ‘A really nice man from the Police Federation gave me his card and said he’d handle everything – Robbie’s pension, any money we need to tide us over.’

‘That’s good,’ said Nightingale.

‘Robbie didn’t even have a will, did you know that?’

‘Who does?’ said Nightingale. ‘I haven’t.’

‘Me neither,’ agreed Jenny. ‘You just don’t think about it, do you?’

‘I did ask him, loads of times,’ said Anna, ‘but he said writing your will was tempting Fate, that he had no intention of…’ She faltered, then blew her nose. ‘Stupid, stupid bastard,’ she said. She touched Nightingale’s arm. ‘I’ve got to get back to Sarah. She’s been so calm, so collected, so together, but I don’t think it’s really hit her yet.’

‘She’s in shock,’ said Jenny. ‘We all are.’

Anna went back to the sofa and sat down with her daughter. Sarah held her mother’s hand, her lower lip trembling.

‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ said Jenny. ‘I keep thinking I’m going to wake up – it just doesn’t feel real.’

‘Can you see any whisky? I need a drink.’

‘Jack…’

‘Come on, Robbie would understand,’ he said. ‘If it was me, I’d expect him to have a drink.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘But then again, if it was me, there wouldn’t be so many people grieving.’ He nodded at the superintendent. ‘Bloody Chalmers wouldn’t be there, for a start.’

‘It’s good that he came, Jack,’ said Jenny.

‘He hated Robbie. And vice versa.’

‘Which makes it all the more decent of him to have come,’ said Jenny.

‘Yeah, maybe,’ he admitted.

Marie appeared at Jenny’s shoulder. ‘Would you like some coffee or tea?’ she asked them.

‘Coffee, please,’ said Jenny.

‘Me too,’ said Nightingale.

‘I’ll put a drop of something in yours, Jack, shall I? Brandy, maybe? Or whisky?’

‘You read my mind, Marie, thanks. Whisky would be great.’

‘It’s not mind-reading,’ she said. ‘Every cop in the room has got brandy or whisky in their coffee. Even the superintendent over there.’

Jenny smiled at Nightingale as Marie went off to the kitchen. ‘See, Jack? He’s human after all.’