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Authors: Stephen Leather
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‘If it was Robinson’s men then I can ID them for you; if it wasn’t, well, I don’t want them knowing that I’m a witness because I’m in enough trouble as it is.’ He drank from his bottle, then moved closer to the detective and lowered his voice. ‘And we both know that the powers-that-be monitor all PNC checks these days. If I ask anyone else to run the number and it’s been flagged then I’ll be dropping them in the shit. But you’re on the Dwayne Robinson investigation so you can just say that you saw the vehicle near the hospital or close to Robinson’s place.’
‘You mean that in addition to breaching the Data Protection Act, I lie to my bosses and put my job on the line? Thanks, pal.’
‘It’s a white lie. In the grand scheme of things, anyway.’
Evans drained his glass and handed it to Nightingale. ‘Get me another lager while I think about it,’ he said. ‘And some crisps. Smoky bacon, if they’ve got them.’
13
Jenny was already at her desk when Nightingale arrived. He held out a brown paper bag. ‘Croissants and banana chocolate-chip muffins,’ he said. ‘The breakfast of champions.’
Jenny’s eyes narrowed as she looked up from her computer monitor. ‘What do you want?’
‘You’re so suspicious,’ he said, putting the bag down on her desk. ‘What makes you think I want anything?’ He nodded over at the coffee-maker. ‘Want a coffee?’
‘Now my spidey-sense is definitely tingling, but I’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so yes, please. Milky with one sugar.’
Nightingale busied himself at the coffee-maker. ‘Did you drive in today?’ he asked.
Jenny sighed. ‘Your car’s stopped working again, hasn’t it?’
‘Battery’s dead,’ said Nightingale. ‘Must be a short somewhere.’
‘And you want a lift?’
‘Your Audi is a lovely car,’ said Nightingale, stirring in a spoonful of sugar. ‘If I didn’t like classic cars so much I’d probably go for an A4 myself.’
‘There’s a world of difference between a classic car and an old banger,’ said Jenny, opening the brown paper bag. She smiled as she took out a muffin. ‘These are my favourites,’ she said.
‘I know that,’ said Nightingale, taking two coffees over to her desk. He gave her one of the mugs and sipped from the other.
‘Where do you need to go, Jack?’
‘Gosling Manor. I promised to meet a building guy. He’s going to give me an estimate for the repairs.’
‘How much damage did the fire do?’
‘The upstairs hall is gutted but the fire brigade were there before the structure was damaged.’
‘It was insured, wasn’t it? I mean, it was arson so it wasn’t as if it was your fault or anything.’
‘I haven’t checked. I hope so.’
‘Jack! Are you serious? How can you not have checked already?’
‘I’ve had a lot on my plate. Anyway, there’s a huge mortgage on the place and they usually come with insurance.’
‘You should check, and soon.’
‘To be honest, I’m more worried about water damage. The firemen used a hell of a lot of water and I haven’t looked down in the basement yet. Water and books aren’t a good mix.’
‘When do you want to go?’
Nightingale looked at his watch. ‘You’ve got time for your breakfast and I’ve got time for a fag and a quick read of the Sun .’ He grinned. ‘Now that is the breakfast of champions.’
14
Jenny brought her Audi to a stop in front of Gosling Manor. It was a sunny day but bitterly cold and Nightingale turned up the collar of his raincoat after he climbed out of the car to open the gates. Jenny drove through and he pulled them closed, then realised that the builder would be arriving shortly so he left them open and got back into the passenger seat.
‘You still haven’t done anything about a gardener, have you?’ said Jenny as she drove slowly along the driveway to the house.
‘It’s winter. You don’t cut grass in the winter,’ said Nightingale.
‘There’re
‘You mean that in addition to breaching the Data Protection Act, I lie to my bosses and put my job on the line? Thanks, pal.’
‘It’s a white lie. In the grand scheme of things, anyway.’
Evans drained his glass and handed it to Nightingale. ‘Get me another lager while I think about it,’ he said. ‘And some crisps. Smoky bacon, if they’ve got them.’
13
Jenny was already at her desk when Nightingale arrived. He held out a brown paper bag. ‘Croissants and banana chocolate-chip muffins,’ he said. ‘The breakfast of champions.’
Jenny’s eyes narrowed as she looked up from her computer monitor. ‘What do you want?’
‘You’re so suspicious,’ he said, putting the bag down on her desk. ‘What makes you think I want anything?’ He nodded over at the coffee-maker. ‘Want a coffee?’
‘Now my spidey-sense is definitely tingling, but I’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so yes, please. Milky with one sugar.’
Nightingale busied himself at the coffee-maker. ‘Did you drive in today?’ he asked.
Jenny sighed. ‘Your car’s stopped working again, hasn’t it?’
‘Battery’s dead,’ said Nightingale. ‘Must be a short somewhere.’
‘And you want a lift?’
‘Your Audi is a lovely car,’ said Nightingale, stirring in a spoonful of sugar. ‘If I didn’t like classic cars so much I’d probably go for an A4 myself.’
‘There’s a world of difference between a classic car and an old banger,’ said Jenny, opening the brown paper bag. She smiled as she took out a muffin. ‘These are my favourites,’ she said.
‘I know that,’ said Nightingale, taking two coffees over to her desk. He gave her one of the mugs and sipped from the other.
‘Where do you need to go, Jack?’
‘Gosling Manor. I promised to meet a building guy. He’s going to give me an estimate for the repairs.’
‘How much damage did the fire do?’
‘The upstairs hall is gutted but the fire brigade were there before the structure was damaged.’
‘It was insured, wasn’t it? I mean, it was arson so it wasn’t as if it was your fault or anything.’
‘I haven’t checked. I hope so.’
‘Jack! Are you serious? How can you not have checked already?’
‘I’ve had a lot on my plate. Anyway, there’s a huge mortgage on the place and they usually come with insurance.’
‘You should check, and soon.’
‘To be honest, I’m more worried about water damage. The firemen used a hell of a lot of water and I haven’t looked down in the basement yet. Water and books aren’t a good mix.’
‘When do you want to go?’
Nightingale looked at his watch. ‘You’ve got time for your breakfast and I’ve got time for a fag and a quick read of the Sun .’ He grinned. ‘Now that is the breakfast of champions.’
14
Jenny brought her Audi to a stop in front of Gosling Manor. It was a sunny day but bitterly cold and Nightingale turned up the collar of his raincoat after he climbed out of the car to open the gates. Jenny drove through and he pulled them closed, then realised that the builder would be arriving shortly so he left them open and got back into the passenger seat.
‘You still haven’t done anything about a gardener, have you?’ said Jenny as she drove slowly along the driveway to the house.
‘It’s winter. You don’t cut grass in the winter,’ said Nightingale.
‘There’re
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