Doors Without Numbers

by C. D. Neill

  As Hammond collected his box file from the restaurant office, he was aware of a look of respect by the manager. At first he wondered if it were due to the generous tip he had left but his thoughts were quickly corrected by the other man who made it no secret that he had admired Hammonds choice of dinner guest the previous evening. Despite his slight annoyance at the manager’s lack of discretion, Hammond found himself blushing as Kathleen was mentioned. He was reminded again of his cowardly behaviour towards her and it embarrassed him enough to make a hasty exit from the restaurant as he made his way to the car. As Hammond opened the driver’s door he was surprised by the musty smell that greeted him. Instinctively he looked up towards the side of the Restaurant building looking for the air vents that could explain the smell but he couldn’t see any. He shrugged dismissively and proposed that the smell had been caused by the damp air as the car had been left stationary. The car throbbed in response to the turned ignition, he allowed the engine to idle as he quickly texted a message on his mobile to Paul telling him he intended to call him later that evening. He hoped that Paul wouldn’t be waiting for another call like last time. He missed talking to his son and wanted to make an effort to enjoy a real conversation with him. The reply beeped several seconds later. It took Hammond several seconds to translate Pauls’ reply which used numbers to abbreviate words but he understood Paul would expect his call at eight in the evening. There was a hint of sarcasm in his son’s reply, Paul was probably amused by his Father making an appointment to talk to him, but it satisfied Hammond enough to put the car into gear and exit the car park.

  Neither Lloyd or Kathleen Harris were at home when Hammond called there but he felt partly relieved. He wasn’t sure how he would face Kathleen after his rejection of her advances the previous evening and he would have been embarrassed if Harris had sensed the discomfort between them. Harris would not have allowed such a situation to pass by without comment. At the same time, Hammond wanted to see for himself how his former colleague was coping with his illness. Every time he had seen him, Lloyd Harris had behaved quite capably, yet Kathleen would have had no reason to exaggerate. The inconsistency didn’t make sense to Hammond, and the detective within him wanted to find the answers. Instead he resigned himself to trying later and called Edwards telling him he would be there within the hour. He hung up and instinctively patted the box file lying on the passenger seat beside him. The sooner he had answered Harris’ enquiry the better.

  The Philadelphia Orchestra had soothed Hammond’s mind into a still focus as he headed towards the motorway, The pitch and lows of the Adagio Strings lifted his spirits and eased his responsibilities momentarily until he heard a clunking noise from somewhere underneath him. He switched off the radio and tilted his head towards the floor of the car in an attempt to decipher the cause of the noise which was beginning to cause him alarm. But the noise had gone. Checking his rear view mirror, he was satisfied that he had not driven over an obstacle in the road and increased the radio’s volume as he merged with the motorway traffic. Occasionally his right hand lifted with the swell in the music and then lowered gently back onto the steering wheel as he allowed the music to caress him. His attention was drawn momentarily to the rear number plate of the car travelling in front of him. It was obviously a bespoke registration; LUV 31Y. He studied it for several seconds before it dawned on him that the numbers represented similar looking letters. It reminded him of the text messages Paul had sent. Hammond guessed it was known as text language but he personally found it easier to write full English, perhaps it was his age. As he pulled into the middle lane a thought struck him suddenly. A thought so profound he laughed at his stupidity at not realising it before. He knew who Cherry13 was. He slapped his hand back onto the steering wheel with a triumphant gesture. A black BMW shot past him at terrifying speed on the overtaking lane, startling him out of his moment of jubilation. Annoyed, Hammond cursed the reckless driver hoping that they would be caught by a traffic patrol further along but then, as soon as he had made the wish, he regretted it. Seeing a traffic police car parked on the side of the hard shoulder, the black BMW suddenly slammed the brakes and swerved in front of Hammond’s car. As Hammond punched his foot down onto the break, he realised too late that the car wasn’t responding. A tide of sickness overwhelmed him as he predicted what was about to happen. Instinctively, he allowed his body to go limp and helplessly waited for the blackness that engulfed him.

  The bright lights hurt his eyes. He couldn’t see anything but blobs that moved in and out of focus and occasionally made mumbling noises. He tried to lift a hand to cover his eyes but instead felt a wave of pain that overtook his senses and sent him back into the blackness.

  The threat was particularly vicious. It was more terrifying than anything he had ever sensed in his life, he tried to run but found his legs were paralysed. He found himself wanting to scream but no sound came from him. There were lights flashing around him, he squeezed his eyes closed to block out the luminosity that threatened to burn his mind but even with his eyelids sealed he knew the light would enter his head, it would eradicate all his thoughts and memories. He screamed silently, knowing that he could not be helped, that no one would rescue him.

  Wallace Hammond awoke, not knowing where he was or how long he had been there. He knew he felt different, but he couldn’t understand where the feeling was coming from. He tried to touch his body but found he couldn’t move his arms. He attempted to lift his head but discovered that doing so brought on pain and nausea. There were vague memories but he couldn’t make sense of them. He could move his eyes but realised that he was only seeing through his left eye, the right eye was covered in a pink blur. He knew his heart was beating, he could feel it thumping in his eardrums but all other sound was muffled as if he were underwater. The feeling of panic that arose from his gut swept over him, he tried to cry out but instead he could only move his tongue which was dry and swollen. For the first time in years, Wallace Hammond prayed for mercy.

  “Wallace?” The voice was indistinguishable but it tugged at him as if there was a connection there that he could trust. He gargled a response and then felt hands over him, he felt his eyelid being lifted and a light shone into his eye. It hurt him but it was over quickly. There was activity around him, hurried movements and he knew his prayer was being answered.

  His tongue no longer felt swollen, he found he could move his left hand a bit more and was surprised to discover that his head was elevated slightly. He moved it towards the left side of him where he was aware there was someone seated. The figure moved forward and he felt a hand on his squeezing gently. His eye focused on the woman who had saved him from his nightmare. Lyn. He tried to speak her name but she put a finger on his lips and moved closer.

  “You had us worried there for a while”. Lyn had moved so close to him that he could smell the scent of apple shampoo in her hair. She looked tired, her eyes were swollen with dark circles underneath.

  “You are at the hospital Wallace, you crashed your car. We have been here with you since. Paul was here until an hour ago but he is coming back. The nurses have just phoned him to tell him you are awake.” Lyn was talking fast, as if she had to fill the silence with explanations. He wanted to respond, he wanted to be back in the body that moved and functioned but he was restrained somehow. Slowly, he thought about what he wanted to say and formed the words in his mind. After a few moments mouthing the shape of the words he managed to speak. “Bad smell in car.” The effort made his head fall back and he slept.

  “The promised land lies on the other side of a wilderness.”

  Henry Havelock Ellis. The Dance of Life. 1923

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  He was told that he had been unconscious in the Intensive Care Unit for a week, Paul had offered this information to his father with an almost accusatory tone. Hammond instinctively mumbled an apology in response and then apologised again when he saw Paul had tears in his eyes. Time had been stolen from Hammond and he felt cheated. He d
id not remember much about the car crash and his first thought was to wonder if he had been responsible but each time he asked, the question was ignored and the topic of conversation changed. He could now move his head freely and his right eye was not so swollen although he couldn’t yet open it fully. He could see that the nurses had collected all his cards and messages from well wishers on a string that was strung over his bed in his private room. His right arm still felt heavy but his left hand was able to move without difficulty. His conversations with the doctors made him realise how lucky he was to be alive. Other than severe concussion caused by head trauma, a cracked rib and a smashed ankle accounted for the pain but he knew from the expressions on his visitor’s faces that he wasn’t looking particularly handsome. He guessed his blackened eyes and bruised, swollen face had something to do with it. Lyn had visited him several times and he had enjoyed her attention but she visited him less now that she knew he was recovering. Paul and Jenny had been with him every day since he had woken and they passed the time playing chess or cards. Hammond would often question why he had not seen Galvin, Edwards or Dunn, but often this question was ignored until the Doctor explained that Lyn had asked for them to keep away. This had made Hammond angry, even though he knew it had been Lyn’s way of caring for him. Even now she couldn’t accept that his work was as much part of him as his family. The emotional ties between himself and his colleagues were not endearing but they were necessary. Lyn would only ever see his police career as a sideline, but in reality it wasn’t about choice. Being a detective was being Wallace Hammond just as much as it was being a father to Paul. It didn’t take long for Hammond to demand Paul phone his team and invite them to the hospital, he ignored Paul’s protests but bribed him with the thought that the sooner he could return to work, the sooner he would recover.

  Sergeant Lois Dunn was not tactful with her reaction upon seeing Hammond in bed. Later he would describe her actions as almost gagging. Galvin and Edwards just looked sheepish and awkward. They were working with DCI Morris who had closed the Roberts case the day after Hammond had crashed the car. Hammond was not surprised but he was upset. To compensate the team offered to fill him in on the details. Hammond knew they were humouring him; no doubt they knew that he needed a distraction from his ailments. They couldn’t talk to him about the cases they were working on although Hammond had kept up to date with the local news and knew there had been a fatal stabbing during a domestic disturbance locally.

  “So Thomas has been charged?”

  Dunn looked down at her hands as she answered him “As far as I know, they are waiting for the results of the psychiatric evaluation on Thomas. I think the CPS are pushing for Grievous Bodily Harm.”

  Hammond sighed. “You’re going to Robert’s inquest?”

  Dunn shrugged. “I guess so, although we know what the outcome will be.”

  “I am not sure what I was going to do that day. I know I was returning to Folkestone, to do something but I can’t remember what. I know it was important though.”

  Hammond had a niggling feeling that there was something else he had meant to do but he couldn’t remember. There was a sense of urgency that he couldn’t rid himself of.

  Galvin spoke up for the first time, he avoided looking at Hammond’s face as he did so. “You shouldn’t worry about that now Sir, you have got to rest.”

  Hammond flinched at the suggestion that he was useless. He felt frustrated. He was sick of being an invalid. The team felt the change in atmosphere and tactfully withdrew, offering to visit him again. He nodded, resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t be included in any investigation whilst he was a broken man. He attempted to smile as they bid him goodbye and closed his eyes trying to remember what he felt was so important.

  Two officers from the Serious Collision Investigation Team visited Hammond in the afternoon. He automatically felt guilty by their presence and demanded to know how many people had been hurt in the accident. Instead of answering his questions, the first officer blinked at him with evident surprise.

  “You believe you are responsible for the collision?”

  Hammond tried to shuffle his weight slightly, he was in pain and needed more medication but it was important to him that he remain alert. He felt that he was missing something about the crash, it was obvious to him that his earlier visitors had been deliberately evasive as if they knew more about the incident than they wanted to share with him. He suspected that they were ashamed of any mistakes he had made.

  “To be honest I don’t remember the actual incident but I feel responsible somehow.”

  The first officer helped himself to a chair and sat opposite Hammond.

  “There were traffic patrol officers who witnessed the incident. It is evident that the collision wasn’t your fault. The accident couldn’t have been prevented, although the severity of the collision is believed to have been exacerbated by the condition of your car.”

  “I don’t understand. You are saying my car wasn’t road worthy? It had its MOT a month ago!” Hammond was confused and wished the man wouldn’t talk in riddles

  “What do you remember?” The question was asked by the second officer, a young slim man.

  “Like I said, I don’t remember anything.”

  “You were heard saying to your wife that “the car smelt bad.” Do you remember to which car you were referring?”

  Hammond was tempted to correct the reference to Lyn as his wife but instead concentrated and then slowly remembered getting into by his car outside the restaurant. He had opened the driver’s door and been aware of an unfamiliar smell. He recounted the memory to the officers.

  “Can you remember what kind of smell, was it a burning smell for example?”

  Hammond replied that it had been more of a musty smell, like a man who hadn’t washed recently, he gave a lop-sided smile as if to excuse what he said, aware that such a description wasn’t helpful.

  The interview was short but left Hammond exhausted. He knew his memory couldn’t be rushed but he felt a sense of urgency that wouldn’t leave him. He was confused. There were too many gaps. He wanted to talk to Jenny. He knew that she would be honest but he suspected she had been asked to withhold information. There was a telephone above his head but it needed a credit card and he didn’t have Jenny’s mobile number. Paul had said that he was staying at home with Jenny whilst Hammond was in hospital but he didn’t want to phone the house. Paul would be loyal to his mother and therefore it was not a good idea to ask him what Lyn didn’t want him to know. But Jenny had her own ideas. If she knew how bothered he was not knowing what was going on she would tell him, he was sure of it. He considered whether his mobile phone was nearby and asked a passing nurse if she could pass him his belongings from the cupboard but her search showed there were no personal belongings in the room. He guessed Lyn had it all.

  To Hammond’s disappointment he did not receive any visitors the following day other than the Physiotherapist and surgeon. He needed to have surgery to pin his ankle and they talked about the after care. It was becoming increasingly obvious to Hammond that he wouldn’t be walking unaided for several months. The thought depressed him and he wondered how he would cope at home alone. The nurses had been busy during the day putting up Christmas decorations along the wards, it was a bitter reminder that Christmas was drawing closer and he didn’t relish the idea of being alone unless he was working. Paul would spend Christmas with his mother, and rightfully so. Lyn’s teaching job had the advantage of school holidays. Presumably Jenny would join them. He dwelled on the idea that he may be lonely and this lead to more thoughts about Kathleen. He couldn’t understand why Kathleen had not visited him at the hospital but then logical thought told him she didn’t know about the accident. It was likely that she thought he was avoiding her following the embarrassment at the restaurant weeks ago. Thinking of Kathleen he suddenly remembered what else he had in the car with him during the time of the accident. He had forgotten about the file Lloyd Harris had compiled. With a
sickening thought he pressed the button for the nurse’s attention and asked to use a phone. It was after some heated persuasion that the phone was to be used for ‘police business’ that the nurse reluctantly agreed to allow him to use the phone at the nurse’s station and delivered him with some aplomb at the desk in his wheelchair. He phoned Ds Lois Dunn and asked her to visit him that afternoon. He stressed the word ‘important’ more for the nurses benefit than for Dunn’s but she agreed to visit him after finding out what had happened to his mobile phone and the file.

  As he was wheeled back to his bed, Hammond felt more revived than he had been for the several weeks he had been there.

  The surgery on Hammond’s ankle was deemed a success, within hours of waking up he was moved to another ward. Somewhat irrationally Hammond felt as if he were now under pressure to get well quickly to allow more beds for other patients. He grumbled mentally thinking how much better off he would be if he had taken the option of private health care through the Police Healthcare Scheme. It had seemed an unnecessary expense at the time, but he now realised how cavalier he had been about his health. As the wheelchair took him along the corridors the mingled wafts of stale air, disinfectant and cafeteria food drifted after him and reminded him of his first hospital stay when he was four years old. It was summer 1962, he had been in hospital with Pneumonia. He remembered being on a ward that was full of children who didn’t appear to have any reason for being there. They weren’t ill like himself, they would spend the days playing or reading him stories. He remembered one girl in particular, her name was Sarah. She had been sad when he was finally discharged, he remembered her handing him the remaining squares of her Fry’s Five Boys chocolate as a leaving present. Hammond found himself smiling at the memory, he remembered the chocolate wrapper even now, a picture of five boys all showing different moods. Sarah had said he had reminded her of the boy called expectation. Many years later, he was told by his mother that the children on his ward had stayed at the hospital whilst their parents were in prison or until there was room at the orphanages. The hospital had provided available beds for them until they found more permanent accommodation. Now, almost five decades later, the hospitals were throwing patients out as quickly as possible. Hammond’s stomach responded to the smells of lunch being served and he realised he hadn’t eaten properly for several days. Gloomily he wondered what food he would be offered if he were now in a private hospital and apologised to his stomach for depriving it of such promise. No-one had mentioned how long Hammond would stay in hospital, but as he reached his new ward he realised how badly he wanted to leave. His ward companions looked as if they were clinging on to life by a thread. The racking cough of his neighbour from the next bed only ceased for a second as his arrival was noted before it continued its tormenting sound.