Nightfall: The First Jack Nightingale Supernatural Thriller by Stephen Leather

took the envelope out of his pocket. Inside there was a key and the business card of a safe-deposit company. ‘The plot thickens,’ he muttered. He looked at the envelope again. Other than his name there was nothing on it, no indication of who had left it for him in the house. He doubted it had been Ainsley Gosling because if it had been there when the police had entered they’d have opened it in case it was a suicide note. That meant someone else had been in the house after the police had taken away the body.

6
    T he safe-deposit company was in Mayfair and Nightingale travelled there by tube because he figured parking the car would be a nightmare. He went straight from home after phoning Jenny to say that he would be late in. She was full of questions about his visit to the Hamdale solicitor but Nightingale said it would have to wait until he was back in the office.
    The company’s office was discreet with just a small brass plate on a black door and a single brass bell-push. He pressed it and looked up at a CCTV camera. The door buzzed and Nightingale went in. The reception area was equally discreet, grey walls and carpet, glass and metal furniture, and no inkling of what services were on offer. Nightingale told a receptionist why he was there and two minutes later a female clerk in a grey suit was leading him down a steel staircase to a large room lined with metal doors of varying sizes. The clerk took Nightingale’s key, then used it with a key of her own to open the two locks on one of the larger doors. She pulled out a metal box and placed it on a table, had him sign a form attached to a clipboard, then went back upstairs. Nightingale wondered what it contained. The clerk hadn’t strained as she’d lifted it so if there was cash inside there wouldn’t be much. Diamonds would be nice, he decided. Or a few Krugerrands. Or maybe even an explanation of who Ainsley Gosling was and why he had given up his son for adoption and never made any attempt to contact him until after he’d blown off his head with a shotgun. He took a deep breath and opened the lid. It was empty. Nightingale groaned. What was the point of leaving him the key if there was nothing in the box? Was someone playing a sick trick on him? He started to close the lid but stopped. There was something at the bottom of the box. A brown envelope. He took it out and opened it. Inside he found a single DVD.

7
    J enny was on the phone when Nightingale opened the office door. ‘I’m sure the cheque was sent out on Tuesday and it’s only Thursday today so it could still be in the post,’ she said, wagging a warning finger at him as he went over to the DVD player. ‘He isn’t in at the moment, but as soon as he arrives I’ll tell him to call you.’
    Nightingale slotted in the DVD and turned on the television. ‘Remote?’ he mouthed at Jenny.
    She pointed at his desk. ‘Absolutely,’ she said, into the phone. ‘Goodbye.’ She replaced the receiver and wagged the finger at him again. ‘You can’t mess around with Customs and Excise like this,’ she said. ‘They send people to jail for not paying their VAT.’
    ‘While they let murderers and rapists roam the streets,’ he said, picking up the remote control. ‘You should write a letter to the editor of the Daily Mail .’
    ‘How did it go yesterday? What’s the job?’
    ‘There’s no job,’ said Nightingale, ‘but I do have a house. A bloody big one. And a father I never knew that I had.’
    ‘Jack, what on earth are you talking about?’
    ‘Get me a coffee and I’ll tell you,’ he said. As Jenny made it, Nightingale filled her in on the events of the past twenty-four hours.
    ‘A mansion?’ she said, when he’d finished.
    ‘Right out of Country Life ,’ he told her. ‘Land as far as the eye can see, stables, a conservatory, more bedrooms than you can shake a stick at.’
    ‘And it’s yours?’
    ‘Seems to be. Unless this is all some Candid Camera stunt.’
    ‘And this