The two men in suits escorted Morgan out of the room, followed by the woman in the fur coat.
Nightingale stood up and stretched. ‘Sorry,’ he said to Jenny.
Jenny stood up. ‘For what?’
‘For bringing you here,’ he said.
‘It was fascinating,’ she said.
‘You don’t believe it, do you?’
‘That Lachie was trying to contact me?’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Jenny, he didn’t say Lachie. You did. Morgan said it was Larry.’
‘That’s pretty close, don’t you think? And he got the beard right.’
‘He was taking cues from you. He picked up from you that I was there when Lachie died. He was good, but he was still conning you.’
‘How can it be a con? He didn’t want anything from us.’
‘Maybe he just likes to play God. Maybe he hopes you’ll pay him for a private consultation. Who knows? But I know one thing for sure and that’s that he wasn’t talking to spirits.’
Nightingale jumped as a hand touched his shoulder. He looked round and saw a short man standing behind him; he had dark curly hair and was wearing a green anorak. Nightingale recognised him from the audience.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,’ the man said. ‘But you came to contact somebody, didn’t you?’
‘Isn’t that why people come to a meeting like this?’ said Nightingale. The last members of the audience filed out of the room, leaving the three of them alone.
The man laughed softly. ‘I suppose that’s so,’ he said. ‘Though some are curious to know what if anything lies beyond this life. Sorry, you are.?.?.?’ He waited expectantly for Nightingale’s name.
‘We’re just on our way home,’ said Nightingale. He started to walk to the door.
‘Is your name Jack?’
Nightingale stopped and slowly turned to look at the man.
He held up his hands as if he feared that Nightingale was going to get aggressive. ‘I’m just interested, that’s all. Are you Jack?’
‘Yes,’ said Nightingale. He frowned. ‘Do you know me?’
‘Did you come to see a girl? A young girl?’
‘Who are you?’ asked Nightingale, taking a step towards him.
The man reached inside his jacket. Nightingale grabbed him by his lapels and threw him up against the wall.
‘Jack!’ shouted Jenny.
The man’s hand was still inside his jacket and Nightingale groped for whatever it was that he was reaching for.
‘My wallet,’ gasped the man. ‘I just want to give you my card.’
Jenny put a hand on Jack’s arm. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ she hissed.
Nightingale released his grip on the man’s jacket and stepped back. The man opened his wallet with trembling hands and took out a business card. He held it out to Nightingale. ‘My name’s Graham Lord,’ he said.
Nightingale looked at the simple white card. Underneath the man’s name were the words ‘Spiritual Connections — Private Readings Available’ and a mobile phone number.
‘What do you want from me?’ said Nightingale. ‘How do you know my name?’
‘You came to contact a young girl. With blonde hair? Long blonde hair?’
‘What’s your game?’ asked Nightingale.
‘She was standing behind you,’ said Lord. ‘I couldn’t hear her but I could see her mouth moving and I thought she was saying “Jack”.’
Nightingale frowned. ‘You could see her?’
‘That’s what I do. I talk to spirits.’
‘Like the guy we came to see tonight? The medium?’
Lord sneered. ‘Neil Morgan? He’s a charlatan. Cold reading, that’s what he does. Picks up on physical and verbal cues and plays the percentages.’ He looked across at Jenny. ‘Larry, Lachie. Father, friend of father. Then you effectively told him that Lachie had killed himself.’
Nightingale looked at Jenny. ‘Told you,’ he said.
‘There are very few genuine mediums around and they don’t tend to go to places like this. The real ones don’t bother with shows like we’ve just seen.’
‘What about you, then, Graham? Why were you here?’
‘Lordy,’ said Lord. ‘Everyone calls me Lordy.’
‘So answer my question, Lordy. Why were you here?’
Lord sighed. ‘Because, unlike Morgan, I’m the real thing. I come to places like this because I can see the spirits. There were spirits here tonight trying to communicate, but Morgan can’t see them. He’s too busy playing his games. Remember the young couple with the baby?’
‘The woman whose mum had died? Sure.’
‘Her mum was standing next to Morgan. She was so angry at him because she knew that he was lying.’
‘You really saw her?’ said Jenny.
‘I see spirits all the time,’ said Lord. ‘It’s harder for me to talk to them. To hear what they say. I do that best at home. But tonight I saw the little girl standing behind you. Holding a doll.’
Nightingale felt his head spin.
‘I think she was saying your name,’ said Lord. ‘“Jack” she said.’
‘And what was her name?’ said Nightingale. ‘Do you know?’
Lord nodded earnestly. ‘Sophie,’ he said. ‘She said her name was Sophie.’
Nightingale pressed Lord for more information but the man insisted that he could only help them at a private meeting.
Nightingale and Jenny left Lord in the community centre and walked to where she’d parked her car. As Jenny took out her keys, Nightingale patted her on the shoulder. ‘Give me a minute. I need to call Joshua back.’
‘Joshua?’
‘The American. The guy who keeps buying my books. That was him who phoned back there.’
Jenny unlocked the Audi and climbed in and Nightingale fumbled in his pocket for his mobile. He returned Wainwright’s call and the American answered.
‘Where are you, Jack?’ he asked.
‘London,’ said Nightingale. ‘I’m not a world traveller like you. I’m rarely outside the M25.’
‘The M25? What’s that?’
‘The motorway that runs around London, a.k.a. the highway to Hell. I guess you’d call it a freeway. What about you? Where are you?’
‘About two hours away from Stansted Airport,’ said the American. ‘I was calling to see if I could have a look at your father’s book collection tomorrow.’
‘Sure,’ said Nightingale.
‘Ten o’clock in the morning?’
‘Perfect,’ said Nightingale. He looked over at Jenny and flashed her a thumbs up.
24
Nightingale climbed out of his MGB and opened the gates. He’d picked up the car that morning and paid the repair bill of two hundred pounds in cash. The mechanic had given him a knowing wink as he’d pocketed the money, wishing him well and saying that he’d see him again soon, which hadn’t inspired Nightingale with confidence. He left the gates open and drove slowly down the driveway to Gosling Manor. He parked next to the fountain in front of the house and smoked a cigarette as he waited for Wainwright to arrive. He wondered whether Wainwright would arrive in a stretch limo or behind the wheel of an expensive sports car but his question was answered when he heard the far-off throbbing sound of a helicopter. Nightingale grinned when he saw the huge blue and white
