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fan_flashworks2024-09-17 04:21 pm
briarwood) wrote in fan_flashworks2024-09-17 04:21 pm
Entry tags:
Death In Paradise – Fanfic - The Night Watch
Title: The Night Watch
Fandom: Death in Paradise
Rating: All ages
Length: 3,000 words approx
Content notes: Very brief reference to suicide.
Author notes: Challenge: Long. DIP always starts with a murder. I had an idea about a story where the team are racing against time to prevent a death, rather than solve one. This story isn’t quite what I originally planned, but I like how it turned out.
Summary: A late night call to a radio talk show
“This is Radio Saint Marie, and that was Eddy Grant, Living on the Front Line.” Maya smiled into the mic. “It’s one-forty-five, and you’re listening to the Night Watch. I’m Maya Crowne, and I’m here with you until the sun comes up to share the island’s favourite tunes and take your calls. We can chat about anything you like, so if you’re still awake, give me a call, or it’s going to be a long night for me all alone.” She started the turntable, and as the familiar tune began, she spoke over the opening bars. “In the meantime, let’s hear from Saint Marie’s very own Leon and the Ragers.” She adjusted the dials and finally clicked off her mic.
Maya leaned back in her chair, taking a deep breath. She was nearly an hour into the show and there were no calls. It happened, occasionally, and she was used to filling the chat segments on her own if she had to, but she enjoyed the Night Watch because she got to talk to people. Talking to herself made for a really long night.
The Night Watch played four nights a week, Monday through Thursday from one o’clock until sunrise. The playlist was classic reggae interspersed with requests from listeners that could be anything from Beethoven to Taylor Swift. The huge collection of vinyl behind her was testament to the audience’s varied taste.
In between songs, Maya took calls from anyone who wanted to talk, about anything. She had a couple of regulars: a night receptionist from one of the hotels on the bay who liked to chew over the island’s politics, an insomniac office worker who always asked for the same track (Jennifer Rush singing The Power of Love) and the owner of a food truck who would describe his latest menu and offer her breakfast after the show. If she accepted he would drive over to the station, and greet her with hot food at sunrise.
Most callers were first-timers, though, and Maya loved the variety at night. She talked to new mothers kept awake by crying babies, bored workers on night shifts, sometimes kids up late studying for exams. Some people just called in with a music request or a message for someone else they hoped was listening. Once she’d broadcast a marriage proposal on the air, and later DJ’d the wedding. Some callers asked for advice, and Maya might ask the rest of the audience to call in and help out. Some people would talk for ages, just to fill the lonely hours. Maya never knew what the night would bring. It was why she loved being Saint Marie’s Night Watch.
She played three tracks from Leon, one after another, using the time to stack up a few more albums to fill the next hour. As she reached for Bob Marley, she finally saw the blue light blinking.
She pushed the button. “Hi, this is Maya on the Night Watch. Please hold.” She drew down the dial to let the track fade out, turned on her mic and went through the spiel, naming each track she had played. “It’s almost two AM, and I’m Maya Crowne, bringing the sleepless of Saint Marie the Night Watch. And we have a caller.”
She pushed the dial, and made her tone bright and welcoming. “You’re live on the Night Watch. Who’s calling?”
There was a slight hesitation, before a woman’s voice answered her. “I’m Catrine, dear. I do so love listening to you when I can’t sleep.” Her voice was like warm honey, and she had the accent of an island native. There was some background noise, like voices in the next room. Maya adjusted the dials to filter it out.
Maya smiled. “I’m so glad, Catrine. How are you tonight?”
“Not so good, Maya.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I…well…”
Maya softened her voice. “It’s okay, Catrine. We’re all friends here. How can I help?”
“Maya, I don’t sleep so well these days,” Catrine said. “Your show has kept me company through many a long night. I suppose I…I wanted some company.”
Maya drew a breath to answer, but Catrine’s next words froze the reply in her throat.
“You see, I believe I’m going to die tonight.”
*
JP laid the baby gently back in the cradle. “Ssh, now,” he whispered. He smiled for Rosie as he straightened.
His wife looked as tired as he felt, but she smiled back. JP crossed the room and gave her a hug.
From the next room, the sound of Leon and the Ragers faded and he heard the voice of Maya Crowne. Her voice and the Night Watch show had become very familiar to him since the twins were born.
He headed toward the radio, intending to turn it off and hopefully catch a couple of hours sleep before he had to open the police station. But then he heard:
“…wanted some company. You see, I believe I’m going to die tonight.”
JP’s hand froze on the radio dial.
Maya’s voice said, “Catrine? What do you mean? Are you in danger?”
“No, dear. Let’s not talk about that. I just want company.”
“JP?” Rosie said. She knew he couldn’t ignore this. Of course she knew.
Maya sounded nervous now. “We can talk about anything you like, Catrine. Do you have a favourite song I can play for you?”
“My favourite?” Catrine repeated. “Blue Sky, Green Sea.”
“By The Spares. That’s lovely,” Maya agreed. “Another local band, and I’m sure we have it in our stacks. Let’s listen to some Bob Marley while I go look for it. Stay on the line, Catrine.”
As the first strains of The Sun is Shining filled the airwaves, JP was dressing hurriedly in his uniform.
“What are you going to do?” Rosie asked him.
“I don’t know, Rosie, but I have to try to find her. That sounded like someone who is planning to hurt herself.”
“You can call…”
“The Inspector will be asleep, and calling Ruby will take too long.” He tied his boots. “I’m already awake.”
“I’ll keep the radio on.” Rosie kissed him quickly. “I hope you find her.”
*
“We’re going back on the air in a moment, Catrine. Can you tell me where you are?”
Maya could almost see the mischievous smile when Catrine answered, “Of course, dear. I’m in Saint Marie.”
Damn it. Out of time, Maya adjusted the dials and swapped out the vinyl as her mic went hot. “Sun is Shining with Bob Marley, but here on Saint Marie it’s just after two AM and it’ll be a few more hours until we see sunshine. You’re listening to Maya Crowne with the Night Watch and I’m on the line with Catrine. Are you in Honoré, Catrine? I was at the parade last week. Did you see it?”
“No, dear. I don’t go out any more. I remember hearing it, though. The drums played all afternoon. What was it like to be there?”
Maya usually tried to keep her callers talking, but she would talk if it kept Catrine on the line. This wasn’t the first time she’d taken a call about someone in danger. On one of her first shows, she took a call from a woman who was lost somewhere in the dark and over a tense hour worked to figure out where she was. Another listener had driven out into the forest to find her. More than once she’d taken a call from someone waiting at home for a child or partner who hadn’t come home, and hoped the missing person was listening. In such scenarios, Maya and her listeners could help. This call felt different, and she didn’t know what to do.
So, she talked about the parade, describing the colours and the music, people dancing in the streets of Honoré, the cocktails served in huge glasses piled high with sliced fruits. Catrine laughed in the right places, made little comments. She didn’t sound like someone who was dying.
Maya saw someone passing the studio as she loaded up the next track.
“It sounds lovely, dear,” Catrine said. “The parades weren’t always so big. We always had fun, though.”
“Stay on the line and tell us all about it,” Maya suggested. “Meanwhile, here’s Blue Sky, Green Sea.” She started the track and cut her mic as Sam waved through the window. May gave him the wait a minute signal, cued up another record to play just in case, then signalled it was safe to enter.
Sam opened the studio door and Maya saw the man behind him. Police?
Like everyone else at Radio Saint Marie, the sight of a uniform made her think of the recent murder of one of their own. Dezzie had been killed mid-broadcast and while the whole island mourned the death of a local celebrity, his friends at the radio station had all come under suspicion.
“Is your caller still on the line?” the officer asked. Then he gave a nervous smile. “Sorry. I’m officer JP Hooper.” He offered his hand. “I love your show, but I heard the call tonight and I’m concerned. I’d like to find her, make sure she’s okay.”
“She’s on the line, but I’ve already asked. The only location she gave was Saint Marie.”
“Do you have any way to get the number she’s calling from?”
Sam shook his head. “Sorry. It’s an old land-line. No caller ID.”
“She lives in Honoré, because she talked about hearing the parade,” Maya said, her eye on the timer. “And when she first called there was some background noise.”
“Can I hear it?”
“Not while we’re on the air,” Sam answered.
“Then you have to tell me what you heard, Maya. I need to find her while she’s still talking to you.”
“Of course.” Maya pointed. “Grab a headset. Fast!” The track was almost over.
Sam pushed JP toward a seat. “She’s saying you can listen in. Whatever’s there in the background, you’ll hear it.”
JP picked up the headphones. “Tha-”
Maya gestured sharply and turned on her mic. “The Spares’ Blue Sky, Green Sea, a special request by tonight’s caller, Catrine. Is there a story to why you like that one, Catrine?”
“It’s a lovely song,” Catrine answered.
JP was sitting in the guest chair, the headphones over his ears. For some reason, he was covering them with his hands. He looked like a little kid trying to block out something he didn’t want to hear. He frowned in concentration.
“I love it, too,” Maya smiled, “but why is is special to you?”
“Oh, I have a lot of memories of that song, Maya.” Catrine paused. “In fact, it was the first record I ever bought, when it was new.”
“That was…” Maya began.
“Nineteen eighty-seven,” Catrine supplied. “In the summer.”
Maya laughed. “Yesai! How old were you?”
“I was a teenager. I saved my money for weeks to buy that single.”
“Can you remember what you paid for it?” Maya asked.
“No. But I remember choosing a copy with a tear in the cover so I could talk a few pennies off the price.”
“That’s clever of you. I did something like that when I started buying music.”
JP made a gesture that Maya didn’t recognise, but she guessed he wanted to talk to her, or maybe to Catrine. She touched her lips, telling him to be silent, and reached for the next song.
Once she was done with her spiel, she killed the mics and pulled off her headphones. “Two and a half minutes,” she said.
“I can hear wind in trees, maybe something like an engine. What did you hear?”
“Something like voices, but not people. At least, I don’t think so.”
“Birds?” JP asked.
“At night?”
“Could it have been?”
“Well…not songbirds. Maybe parrots?”
He nodded. “I think I know where she is. Spencer House.” He pulled the headphones off. “Thank you, Maya.”
Spencer House was that big house above the town. It was a private hospital. Or perhaps a convalescent home, Maya wasn’t sure. “Please help her.”
“I will.” JP hurried out.
*
Spencer House stood almost at the top of the hill above Honoré, overlooking the town and harbour. It was a mansion house almost as old as the town itself. No longer a residence, it still had remnants of its history, including a well-known aviary. JP remembered it from his boyhood: the aviary was open to the public and he’d come on a school visit, to see the birds and laugh at the ones that appeared to talk.
The imposing entrance was well-lit, and through the glass JP could see someone at the reception desk. He pointed to his badge and the door opened. He hurried inside.
“I’m officer JP Hooper, Honoré Police. I’m looking for someone called Catrine,” he said. “I think she may be a…patient, here?”
“Resident,” the receptionist answered. “We call them residents. It’s very late, officer.” She wore a white name-tag clipped to her white uniform: Lou-Lou.
“Do you have a resident of that name?” JP pressed.
“It’s confidential…”
“Turn your radio on, Lou-Lou. Radio Saint Marie.”
She frowned, but obeyed.
Catrine’s voice filled the air. “…near the harbour. We wore yellow feathers, and we danced…oh, all night.”
JP spoke quietly, “Catrine called in to the Night Watch radio show and told Maya Crowne that she’s going to die tonight. I’m here to check on her. Please. Is she here?”
The receptionist nodded. “We do have a Catrine. That’s her voice.” She stood as she spoke. “I can take you to her room, but…”
“But?” JP followed her.
“Did she really say she was going to die?” She used a plastic card to open a door and let him through.
“On the air,” JP confirmed. “She said she wanted company. I was at home, but I thought a wellness check is the least I can do.”
“That’s very good of you, officer. But you see, Catrine may well be right.”
“She’s sick?” She hadn’t sounded unwell on the radio.
“Not exactly. Catrine has…” she hesitated as they headed into the elevator. “Medical information is confidential, you understand, and there’s no crime being committed. I shouldn’t tell you.”
“I understand.” JP wanted to insist, but she was correct. There was no evidence of a crime. He couldn’t demand information. “I came because her call to the radio station seemed like a cry for help. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with the care she’s getting here. You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with.”
She met his eyes as she pushed a button and the elevator began to rise. “Catrine has a medical condition that can’t be fixed. She’s going to die. It could be tonight…or months from now. We don’t know.”
JP understood, or he thought he did. It must be a terrible thing to live with that knowledge. Something, perhaps her fear, or perhaps something else, prompted Catrine to believe she would die tonight. To call, so she wouldn’t be sitting alone with that dread, all night, unable to sleep.
The elevator doors opened.
“Room twenty,” she said.
JP headed to the room.
When he knocked gently on the door it swung open a little: the door hadn’t been latched. JP saw a middle-aged woman, a little grey in her neatly-braided hair, sitting in an oversized armchair with a large mobile phone in her lap. The radio beside her was silent.
“…a hostel up in the hills. We used to buy a bottle of bootleg and climb up there every Friday. The hostel’s manager had a gramophone. We would pass the bottles around and sing and play…”
JP heard Maya’s voice come through the phone. “That sounds like a lot of fun, Catrine.”
JP moved quietly into the room, smiling his nervous smile. Catrine saw him there. Her eyes darted to Lou-Lou behind him, and she seemed to relax. JP knelt beside her armchair.
“Hello, Catrine. My name is JP. I heard you on the radio.”
“Hello, JP.” Catrine’s smile made her seem much older than she looked. It was a grandmother’s smile. “I’m glad to meet you.”
“I’m worried about you, Catrine,” JP said, conscious that her phone was broadcasting every word to everyone listening to the Night Watch. “You sounded lonely.”
She nodded slowly. “Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I do feel lonely. I enjoy the Night Watch. Spending the night with Maya and her callers.”
“You feel less alone,” JP said, understanding.
“Yes.” Her smile was sad.
“And tonight you decided to call?”
Catrine stretched out both of her hands, palms upward. Uncertainly, JP laid his hands in hers. She squeezed his hands, her grip weak, or maybe just too gentle. JP looked down at their linked hands. He fingernails were painted deep fuchsia-pink.
“JP, I have a…a weakness in my heart. The doctors cannot repair it, and it is going to kill me. They don’t know when, but I do. She drew his right hand to her chest. “I feel it, here.”
JP shook his head. “Catrine, when we can’t sleep we imagine all kinds of things…It’s just fear.”
“I’m not afraid,” Catrine corrected. “I have led a good life. It’s time, for me. Thank you for coming, JP. Thank you for caring.”
He felt her grip on his hand slip. He picked up the phone in her lap. “Maya?”
“JP, you’re on the air with the Night Watch.” It was her usual, cheerful voice, but he heard the strain in it.
“I think Catrine would like some music,” he suggested. “Can you play something happy?”
“Of course,” Maya answered. “Everyone, let’s hear some Bob Marley.” After a few seconds she said, “JP, you won’t hear it on the line. You’ll have to turn Catrine’s radio on.”
JP obeyed and discovered it was already on, but the volume had been dialled right down. He turned the knob so they could hear the song.
…about a thing/‘cause every little thing gonna be alright…
He saw Catrine smile as her eyes closed. He felt for a pulse at her neck.
Rise up this morning, smiled with the rising sun…
He turned to Lou-Lou and shook his head silently, letting her know. “I’m sorry, Maya. It’s time to take another call.”
Fandom: Death in Paradise
Rating: All ages
Length: 3,000 words approx
Content notes: Very brief reference to suicide.
Author notes: Challenge: Long. DIP always starts with a murder. I had an idea about a story where the team are racing against time to prevent a death, rather than solve one. This story isn’t quite what I originally planned, but I like how it turned out.
Summary: A late night call to a radio talk show
“This is Radio Saint Marie, and that was Eddy Grant, Living on the Front Line.” Maya smiled into the mic. “It’s one-forty-five, and you’re listening to the Night Watch. I’m Maya Crowne, and I’m here with you until the sun comes up to share the island’s favourite tunes and take your calls. We can chat about anything you like, so if you’re still awake, give me a call, or it’s going to be a long night for me all alone.” She started the turntable, and as the familiar tune began, she spoke over the opening bars. “In the meantime, let’s hear from Saint Marie’s very own Leon and the Ragers.” She adjusted the dials and finally clicked off her mic.
Maya leaned back in her chair, taking a deep breath. She was nearly an hour into the show and there were no calls. It happened, occasionally, and she was used to filling the chat segments on her own if she had to, but she enjoyed the Night Watch because she got to talk to people. Talking to herself made for a really long night.
The Night Watch played four nights a week, Monday through Thursday from one o’clock until sunrise. The playlist was classic reggae interspersed with requests from listeners that could be anything from Beethoven to Taylor Swift. The huge collection of vinyl behind her was testament to the audience’s varied taste.
In between songs, Maya took calls from anyone who wanted to talk, about anything. She had a couple of regulars: a night receptionist from one of the hotels on the bay who liked to chew over the island’s politics, an insomniac office worker who always asked for the same track (Jennifer Rush singing The Power of Love) and the owner of a food truck who would describe his latest menu and offer her breakfast after the show. If she accepted he would drive over to the station, and greet her with hot food at sunrise.
Most callers were first-timers, though, and Maya loved the variety at night. She talked to new mothers kept awake by crying babies, bored workers on night shifts, sometimes kids up late studying for exams. Some people just called in with a music request or a message for someone else they hoped was listening. Once she’d broadcast a marriage proposal on the air, and later DJ’d the wedding. Some callers asked for advice, and Maya might ask the rest of the audience to call in and help out. Some people would talk for ages, just to fill the lonely hours. Maya never knew what the night would bring. It was why she loved being Saint Marie’s Night Watch.
She played three tracks from Leon, one after another, using the time to stack up a few more albums to fill the next hour. As she reached for Bob Marley, she finally saw the blue light blinking.
She pushed the button. “Hi, this is Maya on the Night Watch. Please hold.” She drew down the dial to let the track fade out, turned on her mic and went through the spiel, naming each track she had played. “It’s almost two AM, and I’m Maya Crowne, bringing the sleepless of Saint Marie the Night Watch. And we have a caller.”
She pushed the dial, and made her tone bright and welcoming. “You’re live on the Night Watch. Who’s calling?”
There was a slight hesitation, before a woman’s voice answered her. “I’m Catrine, dear. I do so love listening to you when I can’t sleep.” Her voice was like warm honey, and she had the accent of an island native. There was some background noise, like voices in the next room. Maya adjusted the dials to filter it out.
Maya smiled. “I’m so glad, Catrine. How are you tonight?”
“Not so good, Maya.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I…well…”
Maya softened her voice. “It’s okay, Catrine. We’re all friends here. How can I help?”
“Maya, I don’t sleep so well these days,” Catrine said. “Your show has kept me company through many a long night. I suppose I…I wanted some company.”
Maya drew a breath to answer, but Catrine’s next words froze the reply in her throat.
“You see, I believe I’m going to die tonight.”
JP laid the baby gently back in the cradle. “Ssh, now,” he whispered. He smiled for Rosie as he straightened.
His wife looked as tired as he felt, but she smiled back. JP crossed the room and gave her a hug.
From the next room, the sound of Leon and the Ragers faded and he heard the voice of Maya Crowne. Her voice and the Night Watch show had become very familiar to him since the twins were born.
He headed toward the radio, intending to turn it off and hopefully catch a couple of hours sleep before he had to open the police station. But then he heard:
“…wanted some company. You see, I believe I’m going to die tonight.”
JP’s hand froze on the radio dial.
Maya’s voice said, “Catrine? What do you mean? Are you in danger?”
“No, dear. Let’s not talk about that. I just want company.”
“JP?” Rosie said. She knew he couldn’t ignore this. Of course she knew.
Maya sounded nervous now. “We can talk about anything you like, Catrine. Do you have a favourite song I can play for you?”
“My favourite?” Catrine repeated. “Blue Sky, Green Sea.”
“By The Spares. That’s lovely,” Maya agreed. “Another local band, and I’m sure we have it in our stacks. Let’s listen to some Bob Marley while I go look for it. Stay on the line, Catrine.”
As the first strains of The Sun is Shining filled the airwaves, JP was dressing hurriedly in his uniform.
“What are you going to do?” Rosie asked him.
“I don’t know, Rosie, but I have to try to find her. That sounded like someone who is planning to hurt herself.”
“You can call…”
“The Inspector will be asleep, and calling Ruby will take too long.” He tied his boots. “I’m already awake.”
“I’ll keep the radio on.” Rosie kissed him quickly. “I hope you find her.”
“We’re going back on the air in a moment, Catrine. Can you tell me where you are?”
Maya could almost see the mischievous smile when Catrine answered, “Of course, dear. I’m in Saint Marie.”
Damn it. Out of time, Maya adjusted the dials and swapped out the vinyl as her mic went hot. “Sun is Shining with Bob Marley, but here on Saint Marie it’s just after two AM and it’ll be a few more hours until we see sunshine. You’re listening to Maya Crowne with the Night Watch and I’m on the line with Catrine. Are you in Honoré, Catrine? I was at the parade last week. Did you see it?”
“No, dear. I don’t go out any more. I remember hearing it, though. The drums played all afternoon. What was it like to be there?”
Maya usually tried to keep her callers talking, but she would talk if it kept Catrine on the line. This wasn’t the first time she’d taken a call about someone in danger. On one of her first shows, she took a call from a woman who was lost somewhere in the dark and over a tense hour worked to figure out where she was. Another listener had driven out into the forest to find her. More than once she’d taken a call from someone waiting at home for a child or partner who hadn’t come home, and hoped the missing person was listening. In such scenarios, Maya and her listeners could help. This call felt different, and she didn’t know what to do.
So, she talked about the parade, describing the colours and the music, people dancing in the streets of Honoré, the cocktails served in huge glasses piled high with sliced fruits. Catrine laughed in the right places, made little comments. She didn’t sound like someone who was dying.
Maya saw someone passing the studio as she loaded up the next track.
“It sounds lovely, dear,” Catrine said. “The parades weren’t always so big. We always had fun, though.”
“Stay on the line and tell us all about it,” Maya suggested. “Meanwhile, here’s Blue Sky, Green Sea.” She started the track and cut her mic as Sam waved through the window. May gave him the wait a minute signal, cued up another record to play just in case, then signalled it was safe to enter.
Sam opened the studio door and Maya saw the man behind him. Police?
Like everyone else at Radio Saint Marie, the sight of a uniform made her think of the recent murder of one of their own. Dezzie had been killed mid-broadcast and while the whole island mourned the death of a local celebrity, his friends at the radio station had all come under suspicion.
“Is your caller still on the line?” the officer asked. Then he gave a nervous smile. “Sorry. I’m officer JP Hooper.” He offered his hand. “I love your show, but I heard the call tonight and I’m concerned. I’d like to find her, make sure she’s okay.”
“She’s on the line, but I’ve already asked. The only location she gave was Saint Marie.”
“Do you have any way to get the number she’s calling from?”
Sam shook his head. “Sorry. It’s an old land-line. No caller ID.”
“She lives in Honoré, because she talked about hearing the parade,” Maya said, her eye on the timer. “And when she first called there was some background noise.”
“Can I hear it?”
“Not while we’re on the air,” Sam answered.
“Then you have to tell me what you heard, Maya. I need to find her while she’s still talking to you.”
“Of course.” Maya pointed. “Grab a headset. Fast!” The track was almost over.
Sam pushed JP toward a seat. “She’s saying you can listen in. Whatever’s there in the background, you’ll hear it.”
JP picked up the headphones. “Tha-”
Maya gestured sharply and turned on her mic. “The Spares’ Blue Sky, Green Sea, a special request by tonight’s caller, Catrine. Is there a story to why you like that one, Catrine?”
“It’s a lovely song,” Catrine answered.
JP was sitting in the guest chair, the headphones over his ears. For some reason, he was covering them with his hands. He looked like a little kid trying to block out something he didn’t want to hear. He frowned in concentration.
“I love it, too,” Maya smiled, “but why is is special to you?”
“Oh, I have a lot of memories of that song, Maya.” Catrine paused. “In fact, it was the first record I ever bought, when it was new.”
“That was…” Maya began.
“Nineteen eighty-seven,” Catrine supplied. “In the summer.”
Maya laughed. “Yesai! How old were you?”
“I was a teenager. I saved my money for weeks to buy that single.”
“Can you remember what you paid for it?” Maya asked.
“No. But I remember choosing a copy with a tear in the cover so I could talk a few pennies off the price.”
“That’s clever of you. I did something like that when I started buying music.”
JP made a gesture that Maya didn’t recognise, but she guessed he wanted to talk to her, or maybe to Catrine. She touched her lips, telling him to be silent, and reached for the next song.
Once she was done with her spiel, she killed the mics and pulled off her headphones. “Two and a half minutes,” she said.
“I can hear wind in trees, maybe something like an engine. What did you hear?”
“Something like voices, but not people. At least, I don’t think so.”
“Birds?” JP asked.
“At night?”
“Could it have been?”
“Well…not songbirds. Maybe parrots?”
He nodded. “I think I know where she is. Spencer House.” He pulled the headphones off. “Thank you, Maya.”
Spencer House was that big house above the town. It was a private hospital. Or perhaps a convalescent home, Maya wasn’t sure. “Please help her.”
“I will.” JP hurried out.
Spencer House stood almost at the top of the hill above Honoré, overlooking the town and harbour. It was a mansion house almost as old as the town itself. No longer a residence, it still had remnants of its history, including a well-known aviary. JP remembered it from his boyhood: the aviary was open to the public and he’d come on a school visit, to see the birds and laugh at the ones that appeared to talk.
The imposing entrance was well-lit, and through the glass JP could see someone at the reception desk. He pointed to his badge and the door opened. He hurried inside.
“I’m officer JP Hooper, Honoré Police. I’m looking for someone called Catrine,” he said. “I think she may be a…patient, here?”
“Resident,” the receptionist answered. “We call them residents. It’s very late, officer.” She wore a white name-tag clipped to her white uniform: Lou-Lou.
“Do you have a resident of that name?” JP pressed.
“It’s confidential…”
“Turn your radio on, Lou-Lou. Radio Saint Marie.”
She frowned, but obeyed.
Catrine’s voice filled the air. “…near the harbour. We wore yellow feathers, and we danced…oh, all night.”
JP spoke quietly, “Catrine called in to the Night Watch radio show and told Maya Crowne that she’s going to die tonight. I’m here to check on her. Please. Is she here?”
The receptionist nodded. “We do have a Catrine. That’s her voice.” She stood as she spoke. “I can take you to her room, but…”
“But?” JP followed her.
“Did she really say she was going to die?” She used a plastic card to open a door and let him through.
“On the air,” JP confirmed. “She said she wanted company. I was at home, but I thought a wellness check is the least I can do.”
“That’s very good of you, officer. But you see, Catrine may well be right.”
“She’s sick?” She hadn’t sounded unwell on the radio.
“Not exactly. Catrine has…” she hesitated as they headed into the elevator. “Medical information is confidential, you understand, and there’s no crime being committed. I shouldn’t tell you.”
“I understand.” JP wanted to insist, but she was correct. There was no evidence of a crime. He couldn’t demand information. “I came because her call to the radio station seemed like a cry for help. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with the care she’s getting here. You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with.”
She met his eyes as she pushed a button and the elevator began to rise. “Catrine has a medical condition that can’t be fixed. She’s going to die. It could be tonight…or months from now. We don’t know.”
JP understood, or he thought he did. It must be a terrible thing to live with that knowledge. Something, perhaps her fear, or perhaps something else, prompted Catrine to believe she would die tonight. To call, so she wouldn’t be sitting alone with that dread, all night, unable to sleep.
The elevator doors opened.
“Room twenty,” she said.
JP headed to the room.
When he knocked gently on the door it swung open a little: the door hadn’t been latched. JP saw a middle-aged woman, a little grey in her neatly-braided hair, sitting in an oversized armchair with a large mobile phone in her lap. The radio beside her was silent.
“…a hostel up in the hills. We used to buy a bottle of bootleg and climb up there every Friday. The hostel’s manager had a gramophone. We would pass the bottles around and sing and play…”
JP heard Maya’s voice come through the phone. “That sounds like a lot of fun, Catrine.”
JP moved quietly into the room, smiling his nervous smile. Catrine saw him there. Her eyes darted to Lou-Lou behind him, and she seemed to relax. JP knelt beside her armchair.
“Hello, Catrine. My name is JP. I heard you on the radio.”
“Hello, JP.” Catrine’s smile made her seem much older than she looked. It was a grandmother’s smile. “I’m glad to meet you.”
“I’m worried about you, Catrine,” JP said, conscious that her phone was broadcasting every word to everyone listening to the Night Watch. “You sounded lonely.”
She nodded slowly. “Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I do feel lonely. I enjoy the Night Watch. Spending the night with Maya and her callers.”
“You feel less alone,” JP said, understanding.
“Yes.” Her smile was sad.
“And tonight you decided to call?”
Catrine stretched out both of her hands, palms upward. Uncertainly, JP laid his hands in hers. She squeezed his hands, her grip weak, or maybe just too gentle. JP looked down at their linked hands. He fingernails were painted deep fuchsia-pink.
“JP, I have a…a weakness in my heart. The doctors cannot repair it, and it is going to kill me. They don’t know when, but I do. She drew his right hand to her chest. “I feel it, here.”
JP shook his head. “Catrine, when we can’t sleep we imagine all kinds of things…It’s just fear.”
“I’m not afraid,” Catrine corrected. “I have led a good life. It’s time, for me. Thank you for coming, JP. Thank you for caring.”
He felt her grip on his hand slip. He picked up the phone in her lap. “Maya?”
“JP, you’re on the air with the Night Watch.” It was her usual, cheerful voice, but he heard the strain in it.
“I think Catrine would like some music,” he suggested. “Can you play something happy?”
“Of course,” Maya answered. “Everyone, let’s hear some Bob Marley.” After a few seconds she said, “JP, you won’t hear it on the line. You’ll have to turn Catrine’s radio on.”
JP obeyed and discovered it was already on, but the volume had been dialled right down. He turned the knob so they could hear the song.
…about a thing/‘cause every little thing gonna be alright…
He saw Catrine smile as her eyes closed. He felt for a pulse at her neck.
Rise up this morning, smiled with the rising sun…
He turned to Lou-Lou and shook his head silently, letting her know. “I’m sorry, Maya. It’s time to take another call.”
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Fandom blind, but this is so poignant - the team making all the effort to keep Catrine on the line and then the resignation when they finally discover her.
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