23
First thing Monday morning Nightingale stopped off at Costa Coffee and brought two lattes before heading up the stairs to his office. ‘A coffee run, how lovely,’ said Jenny when she saw him. ‘What do you want?’
‘I’m hurt,’ said Nightingale, placing one coffee in front of her and carrying the other through to his office. ‘I just wanted to show you how much you’re appreciated.’ He had a carrier bag tucked under his arm.
‘You needn’t have got me a coffee, a pay rise would have been just as symbolic,’ she said.
Nightingale returned holding his raincoat. He handed her the carrier bag and hung up his raincoat. ‘I wanted a coffee, too,’ he said. ‘So it was killing two birds, really.’ He dropped down onto the chair opposite her desk.
‘How did it go up in Berwick?’
‘I got hit over the head with a blunt object and was almost killed when my car got forced off the road.’ He grinned at her and swung his feet up onto her desk.
‘Ask a stupid question …’
‘I’m serious,’ said Nightingale. ‘First night there I was cold-cocked and told to get out of town, and when I didn’t a Land Rover side-swiped me into a ditch.’
‘Did you tell the police?’
‘I didn’t see the point. I couldn’t identify anyone. And other than a sore head I’m fine.’ He gestured at the carrier bag and Jenny emptied the contents on to her desk. There were half a dozen Sunday newspapers and the evidence bags containing the crucible and the knife that Nightingale had taken from the barn.
‘Can you send that off to the lab, get them to check the blood that’s on these things.’
She held them up. ‘Where did you get them from?”
‘They were on a Satanic altar at McBride’s farm. It looks like that’s blood so I’m hoping the lab will confirm that and tell us what sort of blood it is.’
‘Lab work’s not cheap,’ she said. ‘But I suppose we just add it to Mr McBride’s bill.’
Nightingale took out his mobile phone and handed it to her. ‘I took some pictures as well – can you print them so I can get a better look at them? There’s a Satanic altar in the barn, or at least what passes for one. I’m going to make a few enquiries on that front, and the blood should go some way to either confirming or denying it’s genuine. But there were upside-down crucifixes and goats with horns and pentangles …’
‘But?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m sensing a “but” is on the way.’
Nightingale looked pained. ‘It was almost too Satanic, if that’s possible. It didn’t seem organic, it was as if it had been put together so that it would press all the buttons.’
‘Like a film set?’
Nightingale nodded. ‘Exactly like a film set. And the brother was adamant he was in the barn two days before McBride kicked off. I don’t see he’d lie about that. I mean, what’d be the point? There’s no doubt McBride killed those kids. He said the Satanic stuff wasn’t there and I believe him. So if it wasn’t there two days before the killings, then either McBride put it all there or someone else did.’ He pulled out the sheaf of papers he’d taken from the altar. ‘And there’s these.’ He gave them to her.
She frowned as she flicked through the photographs on his phone. ‘What are these?’
‘They’re printouts, as if McBride had been to Satanic websites and then made copies. But there’s at least one wrong ’un in there.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s a site belonging to the Order of the Nine Angels. They’re a sect that’s said to be involved with human sacrifice, mainly kids. But the thing is, it’s actually called the Order of the Nine Angles. It’s a common mistake that, people think it’s about fallen angels but in fact it’s nine angles and it refers to their insignia. The website there is a fraud, it’s somebody messing about. And the real Nine Angles don’t have a website.’
‘How come you know so much about them?’
Nightingale shrugged. ‘Something I worked on a while back. But if McBride was serious about Satanism and sacrifice he’d know that site was a fake. I think that stuff was planted in the barn along with the rest of the Satanic stuff.’
‘But who on earth would do that? And why?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Nightingale. ‘Yet. One of the cops. Or both. Or maybe they’re covering for someone else.’
‘And what about the papers?’ she said, gesturing at the carrier bag. ‘I usually only see you with the Sun.’
‘I didn’t get much help from the cops I spoke to,’ said Nightingale. ‘But some of the journalists seem to have some half-decent sources. I need to work through exactly what happened. There’s something not right about it.’
‘In what way?’
‘It was something a cop said to me. A uniform who was standing outside the school. He said McBride was shooting kids but not teachers. And he didn’t shoot at the cops. That doesn’t make sense, does it?’
‘It does if McBride hated kids.’
‘But there’s no evidence of that. The opposite in fact. Shooters like McBride usually end up being shot by the police, but he didn’t make a move against them. I want to take a closer look at what happened at the school.’
‘And the Sunday papers will help with that?’
‘It’s a start,’ he said.