Read Online Nightfall: The First Jack Nightingale Supernatural Thriller by Stephen Leather - Free Book Online

dropped onto his nose. ‘Excuse me?’ he said.
    The secretary appeared at Nightingale’s shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Turtledove, I said you were busy but he barged straight past me.’
    ‘You didn’t even get out of your chair,’ said Nightingale, without looking at her. He closed the door on her and sat down. ‘I don’t think you’ve told me everything, Mr Turtledove.’
    ‘I’ve told you all I know,’ said Turtledove, putting the remains of his biscuit on the saucer.
    ‘Just who was Ainsley Gosling?’
    ‘I told you yesterday. He was your genetic father.’
    ‘What did he do for a living? How did he make his money? How could he afford that house? Have you seen it? It’s a mansion, Mr Turtledove, a huge mansion.’
    ‘I never met Mr Gosling and I never visited the house,’ said the solicitor. ‘I’ve told you that already.’
    Nightingale took out his cigarettes. Turtledove opened his mouth to protest but closed it when Nightingale glared at him. He lit one and blew smoke, trying to calm himself.
    ‘I understand how stressful it must be, losing your father,’ began Turtledove, but Nightingale cut him short with a wave of his hand.
    ‘Please don’t try to empathise with me,’ said Nightingale. ‘I’ve been trained to empathise and I can spot a fake a mile off. Now, you said you never met Gosling. How can that be if you’re the executor of his will?’
    ‘I didn’t draw up the will. It was delivered to me by courier,’ said the solicitor. ‘After he died.’
    ‘So you didn’t witness the signature?’
    ‘Mr Nightingale, how many times do you want me to repeat myself? I never went to the house, and I never met Mr Gosling. I was simply asked to execute the will.’
    ‘So you have no idea if the will is genuine or not?’
    ‘I assume the firm that drew it up made all the necessary checks,’ said Turtledove. ‘My understanding is that he was a client of theirs for many years.’
    Nightingale flicked ash onto the floor. ‘Who was he? What did Gosling do for a living?’
    ‘I have absolutely no idea,’ said the solicitor. ‘Obviously, being local, I’d heard of him, but I gather he kept himself to himself. He was a very private man.’
    ‘He died three weeks ago,’ said Nightingale. ‘Why did it take you so long to contact me?’
    ‘I was only sent the file on Monday. On Wednesday I called your office.’
    ‘Did you know that he committed suicide?’
    Turtledove’s jaw dropped.
    ‘I assume from the look on your face that you didn’t,’ said Nightingale.
    ‘Good Lord, what happened?’
    ‘He blew his head off with a shotgun,’ said Nightingale. ‘I don’t suppose he left a note with you, did he, anything that you were supposed to give me?’
    ‘There was nothing,’ said the solicitor. ‘He killed himself, you say? That’s terrible. That’s simply terrible.’
    ‘And you never went to Gosling Manor?’
    ‘Never.’
    ‘And so you didn’t leave an envelope on the mantelpiece?’
    The solicitor frowned. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’
    Nightingale waved his cigarette dismissively. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘You’re being paid for your work, I assume. You’re not doing this out of the goodness of your heart.’
    ‘Of course I’m being paid,’ said Turtledove.
    ‘By whom? Specifically,’ said Nightingale. ‘I want a name.’
    Turtledove flicked through a case containing business cards. He took one out, squinted at it and handed it to Nightingale. ‘This is the gentleman who handled your father’s finances. He’s the manager of a bank in Brighton.’
    ‘But you haven’t met him?’
    ‘No. He sent me a retainer and a promise to pay my bill in full once the will had been executed.’
    ‘Why are you being paid by a bank in Brighton and not by the lawyer who sent you the file?’
    Turtledove looked pained. ‘I’m afraid I can’t answer that, Mr Nightingale. As I keep telling you, everything about this matter has been irregular and,