The carrier bag the lawyer was holding contained jeans, a shirt, socks and a pair of trainers in his size. He used the men’s room to change out of his paper suit. His mobile phone, wallet, car keys and, more importantly, his cigarettes and lighter were all returned to him, and he lit up as soon as he left the police station. From the disgusted look Pamela Hutton shot him, he deduced that he’d be wasting his time offering her one. ‘Thanks, ‘ he said. ‘That was very efficient.’
She raised an eyebrow, perhaps wondering if Nightingale was being condescending, but then seemed to give him the benefit of the doubt. ‘You’re entirely welcome, just doing my job.’
‘And the clothes were a nice touch. How did you know my shoe size?’
‘I was given a full briefing, Mr. Nightingale.’
‘I guess you’ll want to know what it was all about?’
‘Not at all, Mr. Nightingale. My instructions from my Senior Partner were to be present at any and all police interviews, make every effort to have you released from police custody, and provide legal advice on any question you might be asked. That’s all I know, and all I need to know, it seems. Though I will say I am glad you didn’t turn out to be a murder suspect.’
‘Did your partner happen to mention who was paying?’
‘She did not. And I didn’t ask.’
Good old Joshua, thought Nightingale. Always playing his cards close to his chest. The Senior Partner would probably be on retainer to one or other of Wainwright’s faceless shell companies. He wondered in how many cities around the world Wainwright could just pick up the phone and get immediate action. Probably most of them. He smiled at her. ‘Can I offer you coffee? Breakfast?’
‘Perhaps some other time,’ she said, leaving the ‘perhaps not’ unsaid, but clearly implied.
‘Fair enough,’ said Nightingale. ‘I’ll pick up a cab and find my car.’
She nodded.
‘So,’ she said, ‘I’ll be at the Peabody just before three.’
Nightingale gave that some thought. There seemed no danger of his being charged with anything, and it occurred to him that the detective might loosen up and perhaps give Nightingale some useful information if the formidable Ms Hutton wasn’t there to approve every question and answer.
‘Maybe that won’t be necessary,’ he said. ‘Seems I’m in the clear, and I should be able to cope with giving a witness statement. Why not take the afternoon off?’
She sniffed. ‘I’m a very successful and hard-working attorney, Mr. Nightingale, and I plan to go as far as possible in my field. I won’t be doing that by taking afternoons off. Rest assured, I shall find something to fill my time, profitably. Entirely your decision, of course, but call me if you change your mind.’ She handed him a business card, spun round quickly and walked away with a clatter of heels and without a parting smile.