Nightshade

58

Nightingale stared at the Sudoku grid but couldn’t concentrate. He knew that he had to go back into Jenny’s office and apologise to her, but for the life of him he didn’t know what to say. Marcus Fairchild was a predatory paedophile and the leading light of a group that thought human sacrifice was the route to Satanic power. But there was no way he could explain to Jenny how he knew that, and no way that Jenny would believe him. Any apology he made would be a lie, but he didn’t see that he had any choice.

His mobile rang and he fished it out of his pocket, expecting it to be Jenny. It wasn’t. The caller’s number was withheld. He took the call. It was Harry Simpson. ‘I’ve got an address for Stevenson,’ he said.

‘That’s terrific, thanks.’

‘You’re not planning to do anything stupid, are you?’ asked Simpson.

‘Like what?’ said Nightingale.

‘I don’t know. I just worry how this is going to end up.’

‘But not worried enough to ignore me, right?’

There was a long silence. Nightingale didn’t say anything. He figured that there was something Simpson wanted to tell him and he didn’t want to spoil it by prompting.

‘There’ve been some rumours, about cops and kids,’ Simpson said eventually.

Nightingale was about to say something, but he bit his lip.

Simpson sighed. ‘No names, and certainly no mention of Stevenson. But there’s talk of a task force from London coming up here. Remember that list of paedophiles that was doing the rounds on the internet? Top Tory politicians and businessmen?’

‘Yeah, I remember.’

‘Well, there’s another list that hasn’t been made public. And the rumour is that there are some very top people on it, a lot of Scottish bigwigs. Some serious names. The rumour is that the London cops are getting ready to blow the thing wide open.’

‘And the Northumbria cops have been left out of the loop?’

‘Totally. Which suggests they don’t trust us.’

‘But no rumours about Stevenson?’

‘None that I’ve heard. So I’ll give you his address, but then that’s the end of it. And we never had the conversation.’

‘That’s fine with me,’ said Nightingale. ‘Give me the address and then forget we ever spoke.’

Simpson gave him the address and Nightingale scribbled it down on his newspaper. After he ended the call, Nightingale stood up and opened his office door. Jenny didn’t look up as he walked in and continued to ignore him as he walked up to her desk. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why I was being an arsehole.’

She nodded but didn’t look up at him.

‘I over-reacted, I’m sorry.’

‘Okay.’

‘I know he’s your godfather, and I realise he was only trying to help. I guess I just get possessive when it comes to cases. Tell him I’m sorry, will you?’

She looked up at him and smiled. ‘He’s a really nice guy, Jack. You’d like him if you got to know him.’

‘I’m sure I would,’ lied Nightingale. ‘How about I make you a coffee, to make up?’

‘Or you could buy me a Costa? And a chocolate muffin.’

‘I could do that,’ said Nightingale. ‘Oh, I’ll be out of the office tomorrow. I’m back up to Berwick.’

‘Do you want me to book you a train?’

Nightingale shook his head. ‘I’m going up with Eddie Morris. We’ll use his car.’

‘Eddie Morris housebreaker and burglar?’

‘That’s the one. But make that alleged housebreaker and burglar, he’s never actually been convicted.’

‘What are you up to, Jack?’

Nightingale tapped the side of his nose. ‘Best you don’t know,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t want to make you an accessory before the fact.’