Cooties (Iman)
They take it in turns at the Inspector’s bedside, as soon as the hospital staff let them. Every time there’s a shift change down at the station there’s someone new at the door. Mrs. Thursday welcomes them all in with a thin smile and an offer to run down to the canteen for a cuppa.
Jakes sits the night vigil by preference. He misses most of the first day in an alcoholic fog. Strange had to come drag him bodily out of the pub, picking him up and swearing in his face in the way Jakes has always known he’s wanted to. He doesn’t fight, just lets himself be dragged along. They’re pulling up to the hospital in a patrol car before he even begins to figure out what’s going on.
*
The second time Jakes turns up at the hospital he accidentally walks in on the family, huddled together in a little knot. Someone is crying. Jakes stands at attention outside the door until they file out, Mrs. Thursday giving him a pat on the arm as she goes by.
Joan still won’t look at him, which is fine, Jakes doesn’t want to look at Joan. He doesn’t want to look at anyone.
*
He wakes up on the fifth day. Jakes is there, half-asleep, half wrapped in memories and regrets and self-loathing. He looks up at the hoarse whisper, “Morse?”
Jakes has to swallow several times before he can answer. “No, sir. It’s Sergeant Jakes.”
Thursday turns to look at him, and it looks as though turning his head like that takes all the effort he can muster. Jakes does not want to explain. Besides, he can’t imagine the good it will do anyone. Not right now.
“He’ll be along a bit later,” he says instead, and Thursday closes his eyes with a look that might be relief and goes back to sleep. Jakes leans back in his chair and fumbles out another cigarette.