Free Nightmare by Stephen Leather

raincoat and tossed it on the back of one of the sofas. He looked at his watch. ‘Shouldn’t be long. I’d offer you coffee but I haven’t got anything in the fridge.’
    ‘Well, it’s not like you live here, is it?’ said Jenny, sitting on one of the sofas. ‘Seriously, what are you going to do with this place?’
    ‘I haven’t decided,’ said Nightingale, sitting on the other sofa.
    ‘You can’t live here, can you? What would you do if you needed milk? Or bread?’
    ‘Or duck noodles?’
    ‘You know what I mean. Where’s the nearest shop? How do you get a newspaper? It’d take a paperboy half an hour just to get down the drive.’
    ‘Now you’re exaggerating.’
    ‘And could you put up with a commute like that every day?’
    ‘We could work from here. There’s plenty of room.’
    ‘So I’d be the one commuting? Every day from Chelsea?’
    ‘That’s the beauty of having an Audi A4.’
    ‘You’re not seriously considering it, are you? How would clients get here?’
    Nightingale grinned. ‘I’m joking,’ he said. ‘Of course we can’t work from here. But there’s something about the place that pulls me here, you know. It’s like I belong.’
    ‘That’s a freaky thing to say, Jack, considering that it’s where your father killed himself. Doesn’t that worry you?’
    ‘Why should it?’
    Jenny shrugged. ‘It sort of taints it, don’t you think?’
    ‘Are you worried about ghosts? Is that it?’
    ‘It’s not about ghosts. It’s just knowing that in that room upstairs he put a shotgun under his chin and pulled the trigger. Doesn’t that give you the willies?’
    ‘I hadn’t thought about it,’ he said.
    ‘Could you sleep in that room, knowing that happened?’ She shuddered. ‘I couldn’t.’
    The doorbell rang and she jumped, then sighed and patted her chest. ‘I nearly gave myself a heart attack then.’
    ‘That’ll be the builder,’ said Nightingale. ‘Do you want stay down here or do you want to come upstairs with me?’
    ‘I’m okay here,’ she said. ‘I’ll keep looking for titles on the list of books that your pal Wainwright wants.’
    ‘He’s hardly a pal. But yeah, he’s keen to buy and it’s not as if I need a Satanic library, is it?’ He grinned over at her. ‘Not scared, being here on your own?’ He made a ghostly moaning sound and waggled his fingers at her.
    ‘Behave, Jack.’
    ‘I’m just saying . . . Satanic library, things that go bump in the night . . .’
    ‘Me being a girl and all?’ Jenny picked up a leather-bound book and threw it at him, missing his head by inches.
    ‘That’s no way to treat an antique,’ he said. ‘And before you say anything, I meant the book.’
    Jenny picked up a second book to throw at him but he ran up the stairs and back into the hall. The doorbell rang again as he closed the panel and carefully walked across the muddy floor.
    He opened the front door. There was a man in his thirties standing on the steps. He had short blond hair and an impish smile and was wearing dusty blue overalls. He was holding a clipboard and he looked at it and then grinned up at Nightingale. ‘You Mr Nightingale?’
    ‘Jack,’ said Nightingale. ‘Domino’s Pizza? You’re an hour late so we get them free, right?’
    The man looked confused and then realised that he was joking. ‘Chris Garner. I’m here to give you a quote.’ He stuck out his hand and Nightingale shook it. ‘Nice place you’ve got here,’ he said.
    ‘Yeah, well, wait until you see inside,’ said Nightingale, holding the door open. ‘It’s a bit of a mess.’
    Garner walked across the threshold and whistled softly. ‘You’re not joking,’ he said, taking a pen from the pocket of his overalls. ‘What happened? Leak?’
    ‘Firemen,’ said Nightingale. ‘There was a fire. The firemen were enthusiastic.’
    ‘Yeah, that’s the way they are,’ said Garner. ‘They do love their hoses.’ He looked down at the floor. ‘That’s marble,