Chapter Forty Four
Johnny gazed up at the violet sky between the white spires. He felt strangely at ease as if nothing could harm him in this place. He walked around the base of one tower and saw a figure he instantly recognised standing by the entrance to a tower. “Erin!” He shouted, as he ran toward the building, but she had gone!
He looked around and saw her by the entrance of another spire. “Leave me alone Johnny it’s… not time yet.”
“Erin–please!” Johnny shouted, as he ran into the entrance through which she had gone. The interior, however, was empty.
Johnny woke up and stared at the cell walls through the darkness. Tears ran down his face as his mind adjusted to reality–a reality he wished of no part.
The next day he was taken from the miserable prison in Washington DC back to the Moultrie Court building where his lawyer had entered a not guilty plea on his behalf at his arraignment
Bailiff’s led him from a holding cell into a large courtroom where twelve jurors sat in two rows. He was placed beside Randall Page, who sat at a table at the front with his briefcase in front of him. Another table across the narrow aisle had the two men Johnny recognised as the public prosecutors.
The judge, the Honourable Willard Truman, sat and peered at the proceedings from behind a pair of circular spectacles. He was a big, African/American man with a double chin and greying hair.
A clerk stood up and addressed the court: “The people versus John Duncan.”
The prosecuting attorney, Charles Scholtz, a short, bulky man in a black suit with thick, wavy, fair hair rose from his seat. He prepared to question the first prosecution witness: Sergeant Duane Ellis.
The sergeant was sworn in and sat in the witness box next to the judge.
“Sergeant, can you tell us, in your own words, what you saw when you entered the house at 14b 36th North West Street Georgetown?”
“Well, we found the street front door open, so we climbed the stairs and entered the apartment–the front door being open. Mr Duncan was sitting on the floor with his hands on his head. Over by the coffee table, which was in the centre of the room, lay the body of Kyle Miller with a knife in his chest. There was cash lying around the floor.
“Was there anyone else in the apartment?”
“No sir.”
“What did you do next?”
“I tested Mr Miller for a pulse, but finding none I attended to Mr Duncan.”
“Okay, thank you Sergeant.”
Randall Page stood up and walked around to the front of the desk while fastening his jacket. “Sergeant, you say when you arrived at the apartment the front door was open; anyone could have entered and then left before you?”
“Yes, that could’ve been possible.”
“Was there any real signs of a struggle?”
“Apart from the cash on the floor–no!”
“Would you not say, from your vast experience in such cases, that there should have been more signs of a struggle?”
“Yes.”
Johnny watched the proceedings in physical form only; his mind was searching for Erin; searching for that place of dreams; searching for that place where he wanted to be, away from this wearisome world.
The next prosecution witness was Doctor Ahmed Khan, who took the stand with a copy of the medical report on Johnny.
A clerk appeared at the table and handed two sheets to Randall Page, who scanned them before nudging Johnny with his elbow, “you’re a free man!”
“Doctor Khan, will you give the court a brief outline of the medical report on John Duncan,” said Charles Scholtz
The Doctor ran through the report.
“Would you say then, that he had been hit once?”
“Yes I would, as the report says the PET scan shows one hair-line fracture on the skull where the skin had been broken–a compound fracture.”
“Okay, thank you doctor.”
“Doctor,” said Page, as he rose from his seat, “Your report says quite clearly that there was only one fracture on Mr Duncan’s skull?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Well, why does the actual PET scan show two fractures, which were not there when Mr Duncan had a scan done after his recent accident? To explain: I have been given a back-up hard-copy of the scan which is usually filed away and forgotten about. I also have an original hard-copy of the scan from the time he was hospitalized for the car accident. I will display them to the court. The original for the latest PET scan seems to have been mislaid.”
Murmuring erupted throughout the court.
“Order!” Shouted the judge, “Mr Page, Mr Scholtz–a word.”
Johnny walked out into the warm sunshine of Indiana Avenue. He shook hands with Randall Page. “Well thanks. But, Doctor Khan–why?”
“Your enemies had got to him–money, power, whatever!”
A black Pick-up screeched to a halt in front of the parked cars which lined the avenue. Johnny recognised the driver as the passenger side window lowered.
“Please get in Mr Duncan?”
“Nathan Malloy, Johnny said, as he waved goodbye to his attorney and entered the truck. "It was you who paid my bills.”
“And supplied the scan evidence - I didn’t want to see you banged up for something you didn’t do!”
“Unlike some others and thank you…thank you very much.”
“What now?” Nathan asked, as they drove along Pennsylvania Avenue
“I’m going to see this through. Come too far to just walk away.”
“I thought that would be the case, that’s why I’ve booked you into the Marriot Hotel on 22nd Street.”
“Oh no Nathan, I can’t accept any more from you.”
“Of course you can John. Stay as long as you need; you’re now one of my customers.”
They turned into 15th Street. “I’m taking you for a hire car. This is a dangerous city. I’d feel better if you drove rather than walked and took the metro.”
They pulled up outside Enterprise Rent-A-Car on Vermont Avenue. “Its all arranged, just show them your drivers licence.”
“Nathan–what can I say?”
“Here’s my business card: if you need anything just phone. And for Christ’s sake take care!”
Johnny lay back on one bed in his room. “This is living,” he said to himself. The receptionist had looked him up and down when he checked in, so he decided a shave and shower were in order before sampling the delights of one restaurant.
That night he slipped between the crisp, white sheets of his bed and thought how good it was to be in a real bed after many uncomfortable nights in cell beds where sleep was hard to find.
He dreamt of climbing through the different dimensions until emerging on the depressing thirteenth and greeted by the Dark Angel.
“Why do you seek me?” She asked in her rasping voice.
“Because I need your help.”
She laughed and then asked: “Why would I help you?”
“Because in return I will give you my soul.”
All traces of laughter left her features and her eyes focused on his, and Johnny felt an eternal sadness weaken his heart.
“Why?
“Because I would like to spend eternity in the spire city.”
“Ah–fantasy, but very well. What do you wish me to do?”