Nightfall: The First Jack Nightingale Supernatural Thriller Read Online Free PDF

she is,’ said Mrs Brierley.
    ‘You know her?’
    ‘She’s my sister.’
    Nightingale’s jaw dropped. ‘Your sister?’
    ‘Didn’t you know?’ said Mrs Brierley. She forced a smile. ‘Some detective you are. Lynch was my maiden name.’ She took a long drag on her cigarette, held the smoke in her lungs, then exhaled slowly.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ said Nightingale.
    She waved away his apology, as if it was an annoying insect. ‘How much do I owe you, Mr Nightingale?’
    ‘Miss McLean outside has your bill,’ said Nightingale.
    Mrs Brierley stubbed out what remained of her cigarette in the ashtray on his desk.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ said Nightingale, again.
    ‘There’s nothing for you to be sorry about,’ she said, and stood up. ‘You did a very professional job, Mr Nightingale.’ There were tears in her eyes. ‘Thank you.’
    Nightingale opened his door for her. ‘Mrs Brierley would like her bill, Jenny,’ he said.
    ‘I have it here,’ she said, and handed it to her. Mrs Brierley took out her cheque book as Nightingale went back into his office.
    He flopped into his chair and stubbed out the remains of his cigarette. He might not enjoy breaking bad news to people, but it was part of the job. If a husband or a wife suspected that their spouse was up to no good, ninety-nine times out of a hundred they were right. In Mrs Brierley’s case it had been unexpected withdrawals from their current account, late nights supposedly at the office and a new brand of aftershave in the bathroom. He noticed that she had left the phone records and the hotel receipt and thought about going after her but decided against it – perhaps she didn’t want them. He wondered what she would do now that she knew the truth. She would almost certainly divorce her husband, and probably split up her sister’s family as well. She had three children and two still lived at home so she’d probably keep the house and Mr Brierley would end up in a rented flat somewhere, either with or without his sister-in-law for company.
    Nightingale went back to his desk and started reading Metro , the free newspaper that Jenny had brought with her. Shortly afterwards he heard Mrs Brierley leave. There was a soft knock on his door and Jenny pushed it open. She was holding a pot of coffee. ‘You read my mind,’ he said.
    ‘It’s not difficult,’ she said. ‘You don’t ask much from life. Curries, cigarettes, coffee.’
    ‘The breakfast of champions,’ he said.
    She poured coffee into his mug. ‘She took it quite well, didn’t she?’
    ‘She cried, which is a good sign. It’s when they go quiet that I start thinking about knives and hammers and things that go bump in the night.’
    ‘I gave her the card of a good divorce lawyer.’
    ‘Very thoughtful of you.’ Nightingale sipped his coffee. Jenny made great coffee. She bought the beans from a shop in Mayfair and ground them herself.
    ‘I felt sorry for her,’ said Jenny, sitting on the edge of his desk.
    ‘There are two sides to every case,’ said Nightingale. ‘We only get to hear the one that pays us.’
    ‘Even so,’ said Jenny.
    ‘Maybe she made his life a misery. Maybe the sister was kind to him. Maybe she let him wear her stockings and suspenders and the wife wouldn’t.’
    ‘Jack . . .’ Jenny shook her head.
    ‘I’m just saying, you can’t go feeling sorry for the clients. They’re just jobs.’
    ‘Speaking of which, a solicitor in Surrey wants to see you.’ She handed him a scribbled note.
    Nightingale studied it. ‘Can’t he just email us the info?’
    ‘He said he wants to see you in his office. He’s got gout so he has trouble getting about. I figured you wouldn’t mind as you don’t have much on at the moment.’
    Nightingale flashed her a tight smile. He didn’t need reminding of how light his caseload was. ‘This place, Hamdale. Never heard of it.’
    ‘I’ve got the postcode – you can use the GPS on your phone.’
    ‘You know I can never get it to