Nightfall

DVD.’

‘And what did he say on it?’

Nightingale was there to question Tyler, not open his heart to him. ‘Just the normal father-son sort of chit-chat. Basically apologising for giving me up for adoption. He never mentioned me to you? Not once?’

Tyler shook his head. ‘Never.’

‘Or my sister, his daughter?’

‘Never talked about kids, never mentioned having them or wanting them.’

‘I get the feeling he was different during the last few years.’

Tyler stopped holding his cue as if it was a club and picked up his pint. ‘He changed, that’s true,’ he said. ‘Starting travelling overseas more, meeting some very strange people. Buying books by the dozen. Expensive ones. Often in cash.’

‘Books about the occult?’

‘I didn’t get to see them all but the ones I did see, yeah, witchcraft and stuff. And he started spending more time on his own. Then last year he started getting rid of the staff, one by one. Then he sold his art collection and his furniture. I asked him what was going on but I don’t think he ever explained to me what he was up to.’

‘You don’t think? Don’t you know?’

Tyler sighed. ‘You had to know him to understand what it was like. He had a way of, I don’t know, looking at you that made you either forget or change your mind about something. Like, I’d be really tired and I’d tell him and he’d say something to me and it was like I’d just done a line of coke. Or I’d say I couldn’t work on such and such a day because I had to do something and the next minute I’d forget what was so important and agree to drive him around.’

‘He hypnotised you – is that what you’re saying?’

‘Nah, I was never in a trance and he never did any wavy-hand stuff or swung a watch.’ He sat down on a bar stool. ‘It was weird, though. Sometimes he’d mumble something that didn’t sound like it was English. But then he’d smile and I’d forget about it.’ He put a hand to his forehead. ‘Even talking about it sounds stupid. Like I was imagining it. But I’ll tell you, Jack, I would have taken a bullet for Ainsley Gosling, or a knife, or stepped in front of a train.’

‘But have you never asked yourself why you felt that way? How he inspired that sort of loyalty?’

‘It was just his way,’ said Tyler.

‘Charisma,’ said Nightingale.

‘Yeah, charisma.’ Tyler put down his pint and potted the rest of his balls. He grinned and held out his hand. Nightingale sighed and gave him twenty pounds. ‘Double or nothing?’ enquired Tyler.

‘Yeah, why not?’ said Nightingale, and watched as Tyler set up the balls again. He’d asked for a Corona but the best Tyler could provide was Budweiser. ‘You were the one who found him, weren’t you?’

‘Yeah. One hell of a mess.’

‘He was alone in the house?’

Tyler nodded. ‘He’d given the Woodhouses the night off.’

‘The Woodhouses? That was the couple who took care of the house, right?’

‘Millie and Charlie. They were with him even longer than I was. He had a big staff up until a few years ago but he let them all go.’

‘Do you know why?’

‘He was running out of cash. He always paid me and he never seemed short of cash for books, but I think he lost a lot when the stock market crashed.’

‘How did you get into the house?’

‘I had a key. I went to the kitchen, like I always did, for a coffee with Millie but she wasn’t there. I waited until about ten and then I went up and found him.’

‘Was there a note?’

‘No.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘You calling me a liar?’

‘It’s just that you and he were close, Alfie. Suicides usually want to explain themselves – to say why they did what they did. If he was going to say anything to anybody, it would have been to you, right?’

Tyler sighed and straightened up. ‘There was a letter, but it didn’t explain anything.’

‘And you really didn’t leave an envelope for me on the mantelpiece in the main room?’

Tyler shuffled uncomfortably.

‘Alfie, you might as well tell me everything. It couldn’t have been anyone but you. You found the body, and the police didn’t see any envelope when they were there.’

Tyler nodded slowly. ‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘There was a letter for me and an envelope for you. In the letter Mr Gosling told me to wait until the police and everyone had gone, then leave your envelope on the mantelpiece and lock up.’

‘And what did you do with your letter?’

‘Burned it. That was what he told me to do.’

‘And what else did it say?’

‘Said I could keep the Bentley, for one. Apologised for the mess. Told me to call the cops. And there was some cash for the Woodhouses.’

‘Where are they now?’

‘No idea. They just went. I think they had a place in the Lake District.’ Tyler finished setting up the table and picked up his cue.

‘He was buying a lot of books over the year or so before he died, right?’ asked Nightingale.

‘Tell me about it,’ said Tyler. ‘He had me driving him all over the country and to and from the airport every week or so.’

‘What about a diary written by a guy called Sebastian Mitchell? Did you ever see that? Big leather-bound book, written in Latin, back to front. I think it was the last thing he read.’

‘Like I said, he didn’t show me his books. But I went to Mitchell’s house a few times.’

Nightingale’s jaw dropped. ‘You met him?

‘Never met him but drove to his house. Place up near Wivenhoe, in Essex. Big place, very heavy security.’