Nightshade

9





Jenny showed Mr McBride out and then went back into Nightingale’s office. He was already back at his Sudoku. She waved the cheque that Mr McBride had given her. ‘Two thousand pounds on account,’ she said.

‘On account of the fact that his brother is a child-killer,’ said Nightingale, putting down his paper.

‘What do you think?’ asked Jenny.

‘I think it’ll make a change from chasing unfaithful husbands,’ said Nightingale. ‘And the whole Satanic thing is interesting.’

‘Why would a Satanist kill kids with a shotgun? They go in for ritual killings, don’t they? Not much in the way of ritual with a 12-bore.’

‘I’ll know better once I’ve had a look around McBride’s barn.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘Bit of a drive, Berwick.’

‘There’s a train,’ she said.

‘That’ll get me to Berwick, but what do I do then?’

‘You can hire a car. Or you could drive up.’

‘My MGB isn’t up for that,’ he said.

‘But my Audi is, is that what you’re saying?’

Nightingale grinned. ‘Vorsprung durch technik,’ he said.

‘I’m not your chauffeur,’ she said.

‘I’ll split the driving with you,’ he said.

‘Can’t you fly up?’

‘To where? Newcastle? I’m still going to have to get a car. Plus I’ll have to schlep out to Heathrow. Come on, I’ll pay for the petrol and I’ll buy you lunch.’

‘Jack, seriously, it’s a six or seven-hour drive. Fourteen hours there and back. It’s an overnighter. And someone has to mind the office.’

Nightingale nodded. She was right. She usually was. ‘Can I at least borrow the Audi?’

‘If you promise to be careful.’

‘Cross my heart.’

‘I’m serious, Jack.’

‘So am I. We’ll do a swap, you can borrow the MGB.’

‘I’ll stick with taxis, thanks. Which you’ll pay for. I’ll get a hotel fixed up for you. When are you going up?’

‘Might as well go tomorrow, strike while the iron’s hot. Come on, the office can do without you for one day. The answer machine will be on.’

‘No can do. I’m at my parents at the weekend.’

‘Hunting, shooting and fishing?’ Jenny’s parents owned a huge estate outside Norfolk.

‘Eating, walking and napping is what I had planned,’ said Jenny. ‘Plus I’ve a mountain of reading I want to catch up on. I’ve got Jodi Picoult’s new one and I’m dying to get stuck into it.’

‘Is your Uncle Marcus going to be there?’

‘No. Why do you keep asking about him?’

‘Do I?’

‘Every time I say I’m going home.’

‘Well, forgive me for expressing an interest in your personal life. Anyway, chick lit trumps a nice drive up to bonnie Scotland, does it?’

‘I think you’ll find that Berwick is in England,’ she said. ‘How long do you think you’ll be there?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do you think you’ll be back on Saturday? Or Sunday?’

‘Doubt I’ll be able to get much done on a Saturday,’ he said. ‘I’ll fly up first thing tomorrow and come back Saturday. Evening maybe.’

‘I’ll book your flights and hotel,’ she said. ‘Edinburgh’ll probably work best. And I’ll arrange a hire car at the airport. I’ll get the postcode of the farm so I can get the car people to pre-programme the sat-nav for you.’

‘I’m not completely helpless,’ said Nightingale.

‘It’ll be safer,’ said Jenny. ‘That way I won’t have to deal with an “I’m lost” phone call when I’m stuck in to Jodi Picoult.’

‘Oh ye of little faith.’

‘I have faith, Jack. Just not in your navigation skills.’





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