Nightingale went to the bar and fetched the detective a double vodka and tonic. When he got back to the table he sat down next to Sutton. ‘So, Robyn Reynolds. I went to see her yesterday.’
‘Yeah, you said when you phoned. What’s your interest?’
‘She’s my sister.’
Sutton’s jaw dropped. ‘Bullshit,’ he said. ‘She was an only child.’
‘She was adopted. At birth.’
Sutton scratched his chin. ‘No. We went right through the family history. John and Rachael Reynolds were her parents, but they pretty much disowned her when they discovered what she’d done.’ He frowned. ‘You went to see her?’
Nightingale nodded. ‘In Rampton.’
‘They let you in? Why would they do that?’
‘I had the right DNA,’ said Nightingale. ‘I am her brother. Half-brother, anyway.’
Sutton squinted at Nightingale as he sipped his drink. ‘How’s that possible?’ he said as he put down his glass.
‘We have the same father. Different mothers but the same father. And we were both adopted at birth. I went to Bill and Irene Nightingale; two years later she went to her family.’
‘If you were adopted at birth the records would have been sealed,’ said the detective. ‘How did you track her down?’
‘Her DNA was taken when she was arrested, and it came up when I had them run my father’s DNA through the national database looking for a parental match.’
‘Clever,’ said Sutton. ‘But Reynolds is thirty-one and you’re…?’
‘Thirty-three,’ said Nightingale. ‘Turned thirty-three two weeks ago.’
‘So why wait until now to track down your long-lost sister?’
Nightingale shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. I guess I just wanted to know if I had any family. My adoptive parents died a few years back, and my aunt and uncle passed away recently.’
‘You must have been a bit put out to discover she was a serial killer,’ said Sutton. He swirled the ice cubes around his drink with his finger. ‘Right bloody shock that must have been.’
‘The month I’ve been having, it was par for the course. I have to say, though, that she didn’t seem that disturbed.’
‘Hopefully they keep her doped up,’ said the detective. ‘She was an evil bitch.’ He put up his hand. ‘I know she’s your sister and all but she killed five kids. Butchered them.’ He shuddered. ‘I try not to think about what she did, you know?’
Nightingale nodded. ‘I saw what was in the newspapers but there wasn’t much detail released in court.’
‘Yeah, the CPS took the view that because she was pleading guilty there was no point in being too graphic. They reckoned the parents had been through enough. Very few people actually know what that bitch did.’
‘She used a knife, right?’
‘And her hands. She ripped them apart.’
‘Did she ever say why she did it?’
Sutton shook his head. ‘She said not one word about the killings,’ he said. ‘She’d chat about the TV, the weather, the news, politics, about anything under the sun. But as soon as we went anywhere near the kids and what she did to them, she clammed up.’
‘But there was no doubt, right? No doubt that she did it?’
Sutton narrowed his eyes. ‘Is that what this is about? You’re planning some sort of appeal? Trying to get her out of there? Because I’ll tell you now, that’s not going to happen. She’s as guilty as sin.’
Nightingale put up his hands. ‘That’s the last thing on my mind,’ he said. ‘Up until three weeks ago, I didn’t even know that I had a sister. But I spent some time with her and she seemed…’ He struggled to find the right words.
‘Coherent?’ suggested the detective. ‘Plausible? Well-balanced?’
‘She’s acting?’
‘She’s a sociopath,’ said Sutton. ‘A stone-cold killer.’ He leaned forward. ‘You want to know what she did? She gutted them. She cut their throats and then she gutted them from neck to groin. And then she pulled out the organs and rearranged them around the body. Real Jack the Ripper stuff. Guts around the feet, folded out the lungs like wings, smeared blood everywhere. That’s how they found her, over Timmy’s body. She abducted him from school, took him to St Mary’s church in Clapham, and butchered him.’
‘Inside the church?’
Sutton frowned. ‘Why the hell does that matter?’
‘It doesn’t. I’m just trying to get a feel for what happened.’
‘She butchered a nine-year-old boy. End of story. Case closed.’
‘I’m not trying to undo the work that you did,’ said Nightingale. ‘And I’m not trying to screw up your case.’
‘It’s unscrewupable,’ said Sutton.
‘Exactly,’ said Nightingale. ‘I just wanted a chat, just to put it into perspective. She’s all the family I’ve got left.’
‘What was she like with you?’
‘Like you said, plausible and coherent. Look, the details of what she did, the details that weren’t in the papers…’
‘The chief super wanted to hold them back because he was worried about copycats.’
‘So the MO was the same in all five cases?’
Sutton nodded. ‘The bodies were mutilated in the same way. According to the pathologist, the same knife was probably used in all five killings and the wounds matched the knife they caught her with. All the kids were killed in churches, but we held that back.’
‘All the experts who spoke to her reckoned she was insane?’
Sutton laughed sarcastically. ‘Her sanity was never an issue. There are some crimes that are so horrific…’ He shook his head. ‘She butchered kids, Jack. There’s no crime worse than that. And anyone who does it is crazy. There was nothing she could say that would ever excuse or explain what she did.’
‘But she didn’t even try?’
Sutton shrugged. ‘What possible reason could she give for murdering five children?’
‘None,’ said Nightingale.
‘Exactly,’ said Sutton. He drained his glass and slammed it down on the table. ‘Make it another double,’ he said.
44
J enny walked into Nightingale’s office carrying a mug of coffee. He had taken the top drawer from his desk and emptied the contents over the floor. He was down on his knees rooting through the papers, notebooks and cigarette lighters and muttering to himself.
‘What are you looking for?’ she asked, putting the mug down next to his computer terminal.
Nightingale sat back on his heels. ‘Remember the money that I got from Joshua Wainwright last time?’
‘Two million euros? I’m not likely to forget that.’
‘Yeah, well, Wainwright gave me a copy of the receipt with his phone number on it. Now I can’t find the bloody thing.’
‘I filed it,’ she said. ‘With the rest of the company receipts.’
‘Are you serious?’ he said. He could see from the look on her face that she was. ‘Your efficiency never ceases to amaze me,’ he said. He began to refill the desk drawer.
Jenny went back to her office and retrieved the receipt from the filing cabinet by her desk. She photocopied it, returned the original to its file and gave the copy to Nightingale. ‘Are you going to see him again?’
‘Yeah, thought I’d show him the list of what we’ve found so far and have a chat. Kill two birds.’ He nodded at a printout on his desk. ‘There’re a couple of hundred books there and with any luck he’ll want to buy a few.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘We could do with some cash, right? What with me still having to pay the mortgage on Gosling Manor and all.’
‘We’re owed more than two thousand pounds from clients but that’s about it,’ she said. ‘We’ve lost a lot of work with you concentrating on your sister.’
‘It’s got to be done, Jenny,’ said Nightingale, leaning back in his chair. ‘If I don’t help her, who will?’
‘Was the cop any use last night?’
‘Yeah, he was okay. He said he’d try to get an address for her parents.’
‘And then what?’
‘I’ll pay them a visit.’
Jenny perched on the edge of Nightingale’s desk. ‘Jack, are you sure that’s a good idea?’
‘They might know something,’ said Nightingale.
‘What do you think they might know?’