A Walk With the Dead Read Online Free PDF

said sternly.
    Louisa grinned. ‘I’ll just go to the loo, then I’ll be ready,’ she said, rushing towards the stairs.
    Paniatowski stepped into the hallway to get her coat, and while she was there, she couldn’t resist the temptation to look in the hall mirror in order to discover just how much of a ‘dear old mum’ she’d actually become.
    The face that looked back at her was not half bad, she decided. The blonde hair was still naturally wavy, and if there were any white hairs, they didn’t actually show yet. The eyes were still blue and lively and interested. The central European nose – which she had once desperately wished was smaller – had not suddenly shrunk down to standard Whitebridge size, but she had got used to it over the years, and anyway, she knew from the glances she got that most men found it attractive. Her lips were still full, her chin was still firm . . .
    â€˜Don’t be so vain, Mum,’ Louisa called, from halfway down the stairs.
    â€˜It’s nothing to do with vanity – I’m conducting a facial assessment,’ Paniatowski replied.
    â€˜Yeah, right,’ Louisa said sceptically.
    Paniatowski turned –
almost
reluctantly – away from the mirror.
    Pulling men would still be no problem for her, if that was what she wanted, she told herself. But she didn’t want to pull any man at that moment, and – slightly worryingly – she was not sure she would ever want to pull one again.
    There were three of them at this initial meeting – the governor, the chief officer and Baxter. The governor was sitting behind his desk. Baxter and the chief officer were in armchairs which were positioned so that they could see both each other and the man in charge of the prison.
    Baxter made a quick assessment of the governor, whose name was Wilton. He was probably in his late fifties, the chief constable guessed. He had an indecisive chin, and had tried – unsuccessfully – to camouflage his bald spot by brushing the longer strands of his thinning grey hair over it. And it was obvious that though he felt an obligation to stick to his chosen career path in the prison service, he would actually have been much happier just pottering about in his back garden.
    The governor’s chief officer – a man called Jeffries – was a different case entirely. He was around forty and unashamedly bald. He had sharp, intelligent eyes and a hard body. When he’d shaken hands with Baxter, the shake had been perhaps a little firmer than it needed to be, but that – the chief constable thought – was because he was making a point.
    â€˜We are, of course, willing to give your investigation our full cooperation, Chief Constable,’ the governor said, ‘and if we are in any way at fault over what happened, I’d be most grateful if you’d draw our attention to it.’
    If you’re in any way at fault for what happened, then you’re already in deep shit, Baxter thought.
    But aloud, all he said was, ‘I’d like to ask a few preliminary questions, just so I can get things clear in my mind.’
    â€˜Please feel free to do so,’ the governor invited.
    â€˜Let’s start with the fact that Templar was
able
to hang himself,’ Baxter suggested. ‘Couldn’t the pipe which ran across his cell have been boxed in, thus making that impossible?’
    The governor glanced at his chief officer for guidance.
    â€˜Yes, the pipe could have been boxed in,’ Jeffries said.
    â€˜Then why wasn’t it?’
    â€˜I think it comes down to the question of money, doesn’t it, sir?’ Jeffries asked the governor.
    â€˜Exactly,’ Wilton agreed gratefully. ‘We simply don’t have the funds to do most of the things we’d like to do. The toilet block is a disgrace and the kitchen facilities are positively medieval, but whenever we put in a request for more money,