Nightfall

39

Nightingale was humming as he walked into the office. Jenny looked up from her computer. ‘You sound happy,’ she said.

‘I’ve come into some money.’ He dropped a cheque on her desk. ‘Eight hundred and twenty quid,’ he said.

‘Who did you kill, Jack?’

‘O ye of little faith,’ said Nightingale, heading over to the coffee-maker. ‘I sold some of the books in the basement at the manor to a lovely little witch in Camden.’

‘You did not,’ said Jenny, picking up the cheque and holding it up to the light as if she suspected it was a forgery.

‘I did, and she promised to buy more. She has a shop and she sells on the Internet, too.’

‘Eight hundred and twenty quid! That’s brilliant,’ said Jenny.

‘Should keep the wolf from the door. And there’s more to come,’ said Nightingale, pouring himself a coffee. ‘She’ll sell a couple of the rarer books and thinks she’ll get top dollar. I said I’d go back with a list of other books and she’ll let me know what they’re worth.’ He sat on the edge of her desk. ‘She wanted to have a look herself but I don’t think I should be showing visitors around Gosling Manor.’

‘You’ll take me, though, right?’ said Jenny.

Nightingale raised his mug to her. ‘You’re different,’ he said. ‘You’re family.’

‘You’re so sweet.’

‘I know, I know.’

He took a package out of his pocket and unwrapped it. It was a magnifying glass he’d bought at Wicca Woman. ‘Looking for clues?’ she said. ‘It’s very Sherlock Holmes.’

‘Yeah, and I bought the deerstalker and the pipe on eBay.’ He took the coffee and the magnifying glass into his office and sat down at his desk. He pulled open the top drawer and took out his photograph album.

‘What have you got there?’ asked Jenny.

‘Pictures of me as a baby,’ said Nightingale.

‘No way,’ said Jenny. ‘Why’ve I not seen them before?’

‘Because I never wanted you to see me naked,’ said Nightingale.

‘Show me!’

‘You’re shameless,’ said Nightingale. He pushed the album towards her. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

Jenny squealed. ‘Oh, my God, you were adorable,’ she said, looking at the first picture. She turned the page. ‘Oh – so cute! Look at your smile, those chubby little cheeks.’ She turned to the next page and smiled when she saw the photographs of his parents. ‘They were so proud of you,’ she said. ‘You can see it in their eyes.’

‘Yeah, they were good people,’ said Nightingale.

Jenny nodded at the magnifying glass. ‘Seriously, what’s that for?’ she asked.

‘You’ll think I’m stupid.’

‘Heaven forbid,’ she said.

Nightingale pulled the album back across the desk and turned to the first photograph, the one taken when he was just a day old. ‘I’m pretty damn sure I don’t have a pentagram tattoo,’ he said. ‘I would have seen it at the gym or someone would have mentioned it over the years. I mean, I had four full medicals while I was with the Met and the Met’s doctors are bloody thorough. Not much gets past them.’

‘So?’

‘So I was thinking that maybe it’s somewhere that can’t be seen. On my head, maybe, under my hair.’

‘You’re right,’ said Jenny.

‘I am?’

‘Yeah, I do think you’re stupid.’

Nightingale smiled thinly. ‘Thanks.’

‘Well, at least checking your baby pictures with a magnifying glass beats shaving your head,’ said Jenny.

Nightingale held it over the photograph and bent close to it. ‘There’s nothing,’ he said.

‘Of course there’s nothing,’ said Jenny. ‘The whole idea’s ridiculous.’

Nightingale turned the page and began to check the rest of the photographs.

‘Jack, give it a rest,’ said Jenny.

Nightingale opened his mouth to reply but before he could speak the office door was thrown open by an angry woman. It took him a couple of seconds to work out who it was and that he’d last seen her through the lens of his video camera leaving the hotel where she’d met her lover. It was Mrs McBride. Before Nightingale could react she rushed over and slapped him across the face. His mug fell from his hands and hot coffee splattered across the floor. ‘Hey!’

He was off balance and before he could get off the desk she slapped him again. ‘You bastard!’ she shrieked.

Jenny reached for the phone. ‘I’m calling the police,’ she said.

Mrs McBride ignored her. ‘He killed himself, you bastard. Are you happy now?’

‘Who?’ asked Nightingale.

‘Who do you think? My husband. He killed himself because of you.’ She raised her hand to slap him again but then she burst into tears and slumped to the ground, racked with sobs.

Jenny put down the phone and went around the desk to comfort her. At first Mrs McBride shook her off, but eventually she allowed herself to be led to the sofa. Jenny gave her a tissue and sat down next to her. ‘What happened?’ she asked.

Nightingale picked up the mug and dropped a few sheets of copy paper onto the spilled coffee. It wasn’t the first time he’d been attacked by an angry spouse, and he doubted it would be the last.

‘He drowned himself,’ said Mrs McBride. ‘In the canal. He left me a note.’ She dabbed her eyes. ‘He said he loved me and couldn’t live without me.’ She looked up at Nightingale. ‘Why did you do it?’ she asked tearfully.

‘He was a client,’ said Nightingale. ‘I was working for him.’

‘You bastard,’ she said, but this time there was no venom in her voice, only despair.

‘You were being unfaithful,’ said Nightingale, quietly. ‘Your husband had a right to know.’

‘My husband was dead below the waist,’ said Mrs McBride. ‘We hadn’t had sex for five years. Five bloody years. What should I have done? Become a nun?’

‘Mrs McBride, I’m sorry but that’s not my problem. Your husband wanted to know where he stood.’

‘Ha bloody ha,’ said Mrs McBride.

Nightingale flushed when he realised what he’d said. ‘You know what I meant,’ he said. ‘He suspected you were being unfaithful. He wanted to know the truth.’

‘I was his wife – that’s the truth. I stood by him all the time he was in the hospital. I stuck with him in sickness and in health. That’s the truth.’

‘You were being unfaithful,’ said Nightingale.

‘Jack…’ said Jenny.

‘I was having sex, that’s all!’ hissed Mrs McBride. ‘I’m a woman, not a block of bloody wood. I needed sex and I found a man who’d give me sex and you went and told Joel. You bloody well told him and now he’s dead!’ She began to cry and Jenny put an arm around her.

‘Mrs McBride, I’m sorry for your loss…’ said Nightingale.

‘It’s your fault he’s dead,’ she said.

‘Did he say that?’ asked Nightingale.

‘He didn’t have to. He said in the note that he couldn’t live without me, and that he knew I was going to leave him.’ She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. ‘Is that what you told him? Did you tell him I was going to leave him?’

‘I didn’t tell him anything of the sort,’ said Nightingale. ‘I just gave him my report.’

‘He said in his note that he couldn’t bear to live without me, but I was never going to leave him.’ She grabbed at Jenny’s hands. ‘You have to believe me.’

‘I do,’ said Jenny.

Mrs McBride looked at Nightingale. ‘When he told me he knew, I was glad in a way. I’d been feeling as guilty as sin for weeks and wanted to tell him myself. But when he showed me the video you’d given him, I couldn’t face him. I went to stay with my friend Lynn to give him time to cool down, but then I was going to explain everything and tell him I still loved him, but now I can’t because he’s dead and that’s your fault.’

‘Did he tell you about my investigation?’

‘He showed me the video you gave him. And the phone records. But it wasn’t until I found your name in his cheque book that I knew who’d done it.’ She dabbed her eyes. ‘How can you live with yourself, doing what you do?’

‘It’s my job, Mrs McBride.’

‘You could have talked to me and I could have explained. I’d have ended it with Ronnie – he’s married anyway. You knew that, didn’t you? His wife makes him sleep in the spare room and he just wanted to touch someone, to share a bed with them. Ronnie was never going to leave her and I was never going to leave Joel.’

‘There’s nothing more I can say, Mrs McBride, other than that I’m sorry for your loss.’

‘Sorry doesn’t cut it,’ said Mrs McBride. ‘You killed my husband, and you’re going to hell.’

‘Your husband killed himself, Mrs McBride. You know that and so do