Stephen Leather - Nightshade

‘Well, your teeth actually look quite good,’ he said. He lifted up the plastic visor. ‘They are a little uneven but we’ll fix that with braces when you’re older. And I’ll give you some mouthwash to take home with you.’

The phone in reception rang and Debbie hurried out to answer it. The regular receptionist was off sick and Debbie had been juggling two jobs all day.

Walton put his tools down and took off his mask. ‘So I’ll see you again in six months,’ he said.

‘Do you believe in Jesus, Dr Walton?’

Walton frowned, not sure if he’d heard her correctly. ‘Do I what?’

‘Do you believe in Jesus?’

‘I’m Jewish, Bella. We believe in God but we don’t believe that Jesus was his son.’

Bella smiled. ‘Your people killed Jesus. But he forgives them.’

‘What are you talking about, Bella?’

Her smile widened. ‘Jesus has a message for you, Dr Walton. About your wife.’

‘My wife?’

‘Jesus wants you to know what your wife is doing, Dr Walton. But I have to whisper it to you.’ She beckoned him to move closer. ‘Come here, and I’ll tell you what Jesus says.’

Nightingale grunted as he saw the thick-set man in his thirties holding a black Met kitbag walk out of the Southampton police station and head to a nearby car park. Jenny had parked the Audi where they could get a clear view of the main entrance and they had been there for the best part of two hours. ‘That’s him, isn’t it?’

Jenny took another look at the newspaper cutting that had a photograph of Hopkins, identifying him as the hero police officer who had rescued Bella Harper. ‘Yes, I think so,’ she said.

Nightingale peered over at the photograph and back to the man with the kitbag. He nodded. It was definitely him. ‘Do you mind staying here? I want to talk to him man to man.’

‘Sexist as always.’

‘All right, cop to cop.’

‘How about former cop to cop?’

‘I knew you’d understand.’ He climbed out of the Audi and hurried after the policeman. ‘Dave Hopkins!’ he called and the policeman stopped and turned to look at him.

‘Inspector Hopkins?’ said Nightingale.

The inspector narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ‘Who wants to know?’

Nightingale handed him a business card. ‘Jack Nightingale,’ he said. ‘I used to be in the job but I’m private now.’

‘The Met?’

‘How did you know?’

‘You look like the Met,’ said Hopkins. ‘Look, the days of cops being able to talk to you guys are long gone. The fact that you’ve even spoken to me means I’ve got to enter it into the log.’

‘I just need a chat,’ said Nightingale. ‘Actually, I just need one question answering. And you’re the only one who can answer it.’

‘I can’t. Seriously. It’s more than my job’s worth.’

‘It’s important.’

‘Yeah? What are you on? A couple of hundred a day plus expenses?’

Nightingale shook his head. ‘This isn’t about money. I’m just …’ He shrugged. ‘I’m doing a favour for a friend. But it’s not a case I’m interested in. It’s a victim.’

The inspector frowned. ‘A victim?’

‘Bella Harper.’

Nightingale paid the barmaid and handed Hopkins his gin and tonic. ‘Thanks,’ said the detective. They were in a quiet pub a short walk from the police station.

Nightingale raised his bottle in salute. ‘You’re not a smoker, are you?’

‘Bloody right, and I’m gasping.’

They went outside and Nightingale offered him a Marlboro. Hopkins shook his head. ‘Can’t stand them,’ he said. ‘I’m a Rothmans man, always have been.’ He took out his own pack and they lit their own cigarettes and blew smoke. ‘So. Bella Harper.’

‘Must have been rough,’ said Nightingale.

‘I was sure she was dead.’ He shivered and took a long drag on his cigarette. ‘You know, I was almost up on charges. I hit the bastard over the head with a spade. And that bitch of a girlfriend. They killed her and I was the one being threatened with charges.’

‘Nothing came of it, though?’

‘My Federation rep stepped in. It went away. But it shows you what it’s like these days. The criminals get the breaks and the victims are treated like shit.’ He sipped his gin and tonic.

‘You’ll be at the trial?’

‘That’s months away. They’re pleading not guilty. She says she didn’t know what he was doing, he says Bella slipped and fell in the bath.’

‘Bastards.’

‘Yeah. Tell me about it.’

‘Should have hit him harder with the spade.’

Hopkins laughed harshly. ‘Yeah, I wish I had now. I could have claimed that he’d slipped and fallen.’

‘He’ll get life.’

‘You think? Child abduction doesn’t always mean life. The woman will get away with a few years if they can get her to give evidence. He might get ten. Fifteen. Could be out in five.’

Nightingale took a drink of his Corona. ‘Still, Bella’s okay, that’s the important thing. Could have been a lot worse.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘You said you thought he’d killed her.’

‘I was sure of it,’ said the inspector. ‘She was under the water when I pulled her out. He’d had his hands around her throat. There were no bubbles, she wasn’t moving. I put her down and gave her the kiss of life but she was gone, I could tell. She wasn’t breathing, she was just …’ He shrugged. ‘Gone. You’ve seen dead people, right?’

Nightingale nodded. ‘More times than I care to remember.’

‘So you know. The life goes. You can see it in the eyes. It’s not about body temperature or brain activity or any of that crap. You’re either dead or you’re alive and Bella was dead. I gave her the kiss of life and I did heart massage but looking back I wasn’t doing it for her, I was doing it for me. I thought that so long as I kept trying it wouldn’t be true. But nothing I did made any difference. She was dead.’ He took another long pull on his cigarette, held the smoke deep in his lungs, and then exhaled slowly. ‘So then the cavalry arrive and my Super takes me in the kitchen and the paramedics go up and then the next thing is they’re shouting that she’s alive.’

‘That’s strange, all right,’ said Nightingale.

‘Yeah. Except she wasn’t, Jack. I know dead. And she was dead. She might be alive and well now but that day, when I was working on her on the landing, she was dead.’

‘You might have missed something. Drowning victims can be resuscitated.’

‘That’s what I was doing, but it didn’t do any good. She wasn’t coughing up water. He strangled her. That’s what killed her. She didn’t inhale the water.’

‘Like a coma, then. Signs of life suppressed. Then she woke up when the paramedics arrived.’

‘Yeah, maybe that was it,’ said the inspector, but there was no conviction in his voice. ‘I’m just glad that it turned out the way it did. She’s back with her parents and at the end of the day that’s all that matters.’

‘Have you seen her, since?’

The detective shook his head. ‘Nah. The press office were talking about a reunion thing, you know? A photograph of little Bella and the hero cop that saved her life. But I said no.’

‘Because?’

‘Because I didn’t save her life. The girl I dragged out of the bath was dead. I did everything I could but she was still dead. I’d given up, I was in bits, and that’s when they found out she was alive. Whatever happened, it was nothing to do with me.’ He drained his glass. ‘So what was the question?’ he asked. ‘What did you want to know?’

‘You’ve already answered it for me,’ said Nightingale. He drained his bottle and put it down on the trestle table. ‘I’m good.’ He turned up the collar of his raincoat and walked away. He took his phone out and called Jenny. ‘All done,’ he said. ‘Where are you?’