John Matthews - Ascension Day

Jac didn’t want to call Stratton from inside the office, so told Penny Vance that he was going to grab a coffee. He hit the buttons of his cell-phone as his feet hit the pavement outside.

There’d been a heavy storm overnight, and with the sun burning off the last of the cloud and haze, humidity was high. Early November, but it was still in the seventies. Jac could feel his shirt sticking to his back after only a few paces.

Bob Stratton answered quickly, but there was a confusion of noise in the background from a busy shopping mall or store, and Jac had to raise his voice above the passing traffic as he explained about Marmont and Pet Sematary .

‘So if you think it might be some sort of message, did Durrant give any hint as to what form it might take?’ Stratton pressed. ‘Do we know what we might be looking for?’

‘No, that’s it. All we know is that Marmont has these favourite scenes in the book due to his own dog dying years back, and that it’s odd he should be given a book he’s already read several times…’

‘Especially when he’s still in a coma.’

‘That aside.’ Jac joined Stratton briefly in a muted chuckle. ‘We’re assuming that if he doesn’t wake up — whatever problem exists goes with him. It’s only if and when he does come to… so perhaps there’s a note with the book. Or maybe something inside the book itself. Outside of that, we’re fishing.’

‘And you want yours truly, the fisherman, to head out there and start reading Stephen King?’

‘Yeah.’ Jac stopped by the deli window, held back from going inside. He didn’t want to add to the noise coming from Stratton’s end. ‘As soon as.’

‘The only problem is, I’m not due out there until nine this evening — and I’ve got one of those days ahead of me. The earliest I could rearrange things to get out there is late afternoon: four or five.’

‘Okay.’ Jac recalled that Stratton had an arrangement running with a couple of shift nurses to block any visitors and phone him the minute there were signs of Marmont awakening. ‘But could you meanwhile phone your friendly nurses and ask them to remove any cards and packages from Marmont’s room for you to inspect when you arrive? He’s not under any circumstances to see them.’

‘Will do. And I’ll phone as soon as I have news.’

Jac stepped inside the deli as he wished Stratton luck and rang off. With a busy mid-morning crowd and the steam from the espresso machine, it seemed even hotter than outside.

Shirt sticking to his back ; the last time he recalled that was when he’d first walked through Libreville prison. Not just from nerves, but as the heat, stench and oppression — the staleness of thousands of caged hopes and emotions — sank through his skin. He felt as if he was still sticky and unclean hours later, even after showering as soon as he got home. That was how he felt after only minutes inside Libreville: Durrant had been there eleven years.

‘Latte and a Danish, Mr Jac?’

‘Yeah, Joe. Thanks.’ His usual daily take-out.

For the first time Jac began to question his own motives. Probably Durrant had every right to want to die; he himself might well feel the same after all those years inside somewhere like Libreville. Was he hoping to save Durrant’s life for Durrant’s benefit, or merely for his own reputation, to stop his first significant case collapsing at the first hurdle?

Bob Stratton found the note straightaway, but it was brief, told him nothing:

Thought you might like to read again your favourite scene.

Remember how the locks and light switches were tagged for your shift? Seek and ye shall find !

The only useful thing was that the note had been slotted as a bookmark in Marmont’s favourite scene — the dog coming back to life. Stratton didn’t need to hunt through to find it.

But there was nothing else on the pages, no underlining, circling or cryptic notes. Stratton flicked through the rest of the book and tipped it upside down in case there were other notes inside, but there was nothing.

He decided to grab a quick coffee from the canteen to clear his throat and his thoughts, and, while sipping, he studied the note again, hoping that something more might leap out at him.

The favourite scene was mentioned, so that was no secret — or perhaps they wanted in particular to bring Marmont’s attention to it. But why mention tagging the locks and light switches? Why was that so important? Seek and ye shall find ?

Stratton scanned and re-scanned the note in between sips. Find what ? What on earth was there to find in just a three-line note? And why say your shift? Surely there were only two shifts: day and…

Stratton sat up with a jolt, almost spilling his coffee. Night-shift ! If they’d put it like that, it might have given too strong a clue to an inquisitive third-party.

Stratton darted down the corridor and found one of his friendly nurses.

‘Josie! Is there a cupboard or store-room that can be grabbed for a moment? Somewhere where it’s dark.’

Josie raised an eyebrow and smiled slyly. ‘Well, you sure know how to sweet-talk a girl.’

Stratton returned the smile, but a flush rose quickly from his collar. ‘No, it’s not that. I just need to be alone with this for a moment.’ Stratton pointed to the book in his hand.

From the way Josie’s eyebrow stayed arched quizzically as she led him along the corridor, he’d made the request seem no less odd.

Stratton found the first word on the second page of Marmont’s favourite scene — highlighted silver-grey in the darkness — then two more on the next page, one on the next, two pages with nothing, then another word. Stratton flicked through almost thirty pages before the highlighted words petered out. He then went back to the beginning to put it all together, making notes on a pad as he went. When he’d finished, he flicked on the store-room light and read what he’d written:

Don’t say anything about the fight until you’ve had a chance to speak to us. It’s important we get our stories straight .

Stratton punched the air. ‘Got em!’

‘You look pleased with yourself,’ Josie commented as he exited. ‘I didn’t know Stephen King had that type of scene in his books.’

Only a weak half-smile this time from Stratton. He was too busy concentrating on tapping out Jac McElroy’s number on his cell-phone.

Jac took the call as he was walking along Camp Street, only a block away from his apartment. He’d got used to walking back and forth to work. Just over a mile, it was better than braving rush-hour traffic and paying all-day car-park charges on St Charles Street. Only the firm’s senior partners had reserved places in the back parking lot.

Jac beamed widely as Stratton told him the news from St Tereseville General. To those passing, they probably thought he’d just arranged a hot date. That was tomorrow night, and wouldn’t raise much of a smile.

‘That’s great,’ Jac said. ‘Looks like we’ve got the guards’ account roped and tied, even if Marmont does wake up.’ Then, realizing that probably sounded flippant, ‘Though obviously it would be better if he did — not least for Marmont himself.’ In their brief association, he’d enjoyed Stratton’s offbeat patter. Hopefully Stratton appreciated it being bounced back.

‘If nothing else, so that he can read Pet Sematary for the hundredth time.’

‘Might send him back into a coma again.’

Stratton’s chuckle faded as they came onto the mechanics of just where and when he’d be able to get a written report to Jac.

‘I’m hoping to head back out to Libreville again this weekend,’ Jac said. ‘There’s one final person I want to see who was involved in this. And, combined with your report, that should nail things once and for all with Haveling.’