Lastnight by Stephen Leather Read Free Book Online

them.’
    ‘They? There’s more than one?’
    ‘Has to be,’ said Nightingale. ‘There’s too much going on for one person to do. Some of the bodies were dumped from a vehicle and it’s hard for one person to do that.’ He took a long pull on his cigarette. ‘Are there any pubs around here where Goths hang out?’
    ‘Not that I know of. Plenty of Goths around, though. There’s a few take their dogs on the common.’
    ‘Yeah?’
    Harry nodded. ‘Near Eagle Pond, not far from the Windmill pub. There’s a bench there and you’ll usually see two or three of them there this time of day.’
    Nightingale looked up and down the street. There was no sign of anyone coming to move the cars either side of him. ‘I’ll give it a go,’ he said. He flicked his cigarette butt into the gutter and it disappeared into a grid in a shower of sparks.
    ‘Be lucky,’ said Harry.
    ‘Lucky would be good,’ said Nightingale.
    ‘Tell you what, give me your mobile number and I’ll send you a text if your motor gets released.’
    ‘You’re sure?’
    ‘I’m in the area for the next hour or so. It’s no problem.’
    Nightingale gave him a business card. ‘How long have you been a traffic warden?’ he asked.
    Harry shrugged. ‘A month. Why?’
    ‘No reason,’ said Nightingale. He thanked him and started walking towards the common. He looked back over his shoulder, half expecting to see Harry printing out a ticket, but the traffic warden just smiled and flashed him a thumbs up.

6
    N ightingale walked slowly across the grass. There were grey clouds threatening rain overhead and a stiff breeze was blowing in from the north, ruffling his hair and sending a shiver down his spine. He stopped short when he saw the figure sitting on a bench ahead of him. She was wearing a black leather bomber jacket with chains hanging along the back of it. Sitting on the ground next to her was a black and white collie. He was about a hundred feet away from the girl and the dog but his heart was pounding as if it was about to leap out of his chest. He took a deep breath. The last time he’d seen Proserpine he had been standing in a protective circle in his garage and he’d summoned her from the bowels of Hell. That was how it was supposed to be done – confronting a demon from Hell under any other circumstances could easily end in tears – if not eternal damnation.
    He took another deep breath, his mind racing. If it was Proserpine, what did she want? There was a time when Proserpine had a claim on his soul, but no longer. He’d won his soul back and he intended to keep it that way. The only time she appeared was when she wanted something from him, but at that moment he was in no mood to be doing any favours for one of Satan’s nearest and dearest.
    He started walking again, his hands deep in the pockets of his raincoat. Was she connected to the dead Goths in some way? Was she there to warn him off? Or to help him?
    As he got to within fifty feet of the bench she turned to the side and he realised it wasn’t her. She had the same black lipstick, thick mascara and pale white skin, but her face was rounder and her nose more upturned. Nightingale exhaled and he realised he had been holding his breath.
    He decided not to come up behind her so he headed off to the left, joined the path and then walked back towards the bench. From the side she looked even less like Proserpine, she was a few pounds heavier and a fair bit curvier and her eyes didn’t look as if they belonged to something that had been dead for a long time.
    He slowed as he reached the bench. ‘Nice dog,’ he said. He squatted down in front of the collie. ‘What’s your name, then?’
    ‘His name is I Don’t Talk To Strangers,’ said the girl.
    Nightingale grinned and straightened up. ‘That’s a mouthful,’ he said. ‘Must be fun calling him in at night.’
    ‘He’s a she,’ said the girl. ‘And I don’t talk to strangers either. Especially old men in