I Know Who Did It (A Jack Nightingale Short Story) Read Online Free PDF Page B

where he lived when Robbie Hoyle called him. ‘You screwed up with that
photograph, it’s not from forty years ago.’
    Mrs Chan put a
bottle of beer down in front of him and smiled.
    Nightingale waved
his thanks. ‘Why do you say that?’ he asked Hoyle.
    ‘Because his name
isn’t Charles Nelson and he’s thirty-nine years old.’
    ‘You must have
the wrong guy.’
    ‘One hundred per
cent match on facial recognition,’ said Hoyle. ‘I’m looking at both pictures
now, Jack. It’s the same guy, same chip in the front tooth. Where did you get
your photograph from?’
    ‘It was on the
wall of the school. He was the headmaster there, forty years ago.’
    ‘Somebody is
messing with you. His name is Richard Hall and like I said, he’s thirty nine.’
    ‘Have you got an
address?’
    ‘Sure. He’s in
north London. But if your guy was a headmaster forty years ago, it’s definitely
not him.’
    ‘You’re a star,
mate, thanks.’
    Nightingale ended
the call and a few minutes later, just as he was finishing his noodles, his
phone beeped to let him know he had received a message. Attached to the message
was a picture of a driving licence belonging to Richard Hall. The address on
the licence was in Highgate, not far from the cemetery where Karl Marx was
buried.

 
    * * *

 
    ‘Exactly what are
you going to say to him?’ asked Jenny. She was behind the wheel of her Audi
sports car, parked a short distance from the house in Highgate where Richard
Hall was supposed to live.
    ‘I’ll ask him if
he’s Charles Nelson,’ said Nightingale. He was in the passenger seat. She had
picked him up in Bayswater at just after seven o’clock in the morning, the idea
being that the early bird would catch the worm.
    ‘And if he denies
it, what then?’
    ‘The picture
evidence is pretty convincing,’ said Nightingale.
    ‘You’d need DNA
or fingerprints to be sure,’ said Jenny. ‘Face recognition isn’t an exact
science, not yet anyway. And if you’re right – what then?’
    ‘What do you
mean, what then?’
    ‘Suppose he
admits to being Charles Nelson? And that he changed his name to Richard Hall?
And that he hasn’t aged a day over the last forty years? You think he’ll just
put his hands up to murdering Emily Campbell.’
    ‘You’d be
surprised how many people do confess when confronted with the evidence.’
    ‘Jack, all you
have is a photo on your phone. And the change of name means he wants to cover
his tracks.’
    Nightingale
sighed. ‘I could do with less negativity, frankly.’
    ‘Yeah? And I
could do with a boss who doesn’t use me as a chauffeur before the sun comes
up.’
    ‘You get what
this guy has done, right? He’s done a deal with a devil to live forever and in
return he has to offer up regular human sacrifices.’
    ‘You really
believe that?’
    ‘If I didn’t, I
wouldn’t be up at sparrow’s fart, would I?’
    The front door
opened and a man in a suit stepped out. He was carrying a briefcase. ‘Is that
him?’ asked Nightingale, peering at the picture of the Richard hall driving
licence on his phone.
    ‘Hard to tell,’
said Jenny.
    The man pulled
the door shut and walked down the path towards the pavement.
    ‘It’s him, no
doubt,’ said Nightingale. He climbed out of the car. ‘You stay where you are.’
    ‘That’s exactly
what I was planning to do,’ she said.
    Nightingale
walked towards the man. He kept his head down and tried to get by but
Nightingale held out his arms to block his way. The man stopped, confused. Only
then did he look at Nightingale. ‘Mr Nelson? Charles Nelson?’
    Nightingale had
been a cop long enough to recognise guilt when he saw it, even though it
flashed across the man’s face in less than a second. ‘I’m sorry, no, you have
the wrong person.’
    He tried to get
by but Nightingale moved to block his way again. ‘You were headmaster at
Rushworth School forty years ago.’
    The man froze and
his eyes burned into Nightingale’s. ‘Are you