The Unquiet Dead Read Online Free PDF Page B

mottled with moss and grime. Lines of empty spectator benches flanked each side of the drained pool; it looked like the whole structure was sitting dormant, waiting for people to return. Waiting for life.
    Men in waders began to walk a slow line along the bottom of the pool until they reached the dark green water. On the count of three, they all took a step forward. Jessie grimaced as she watched the water level rise up their boots while they poked at the water with sticks. There was a shout. Jessie’s heart leapt. The line stopped. Someone dragged up a sodden, rotting piece of cloth. It was a blanket. There was a tremor of excitement. It was well known among the police that bodies often came wrapped in blankets. The search increased in intensity but they reached the end having found nothing more. Mark ordered them to retrace their steps. Still nothing. Jessie watched as the camera followed them to the second, smaller pool. This pool was in much worse condition. Jessie could hear the trickle of water before the camera turned towards the sound. Water was falling from the ceiling to the floor along the wall on the left-hand side. The building must have been leaking for some considerable time, for the tiled wall was coated in a slick of green slime. A similar puddle of brackish water had accumulated in the deepest part of the swimming pool. The men in their waders jumped down into the empty pool and walked to the water’s edge. The search began again.
    Elsewhere the drug squad must have been having some success, because people, or shapes that resembled people, were being taken, dragged or carried out. There were ambulances waiting outside, along with specialist care workers who would deal withthese sorry few. The camera ran its critical eye over them, searching for Anna Maria. They were Dickensian in their ghostliness: milk-white skin flecked with scabs and sores, stretched over malnourished features. None of them were Anna Maria. Half a mile away, Jessie shuddered. If few had the strength to walk, then none had it in them to summon the enormous amount of energy required to kill.
    The team moved upwards floor by floor. There was one smallish circular room with a domed glass ceiling that became a temporary focus of attention. One of the glass panels had been smashed and was letting in the rain that had steadily begun to fall. Desperation had forced the addicts over the rooftops and through the glass panel. But not Anna Maria. Jessie was sure of it. There was one long room where many of the homeless people had been huddled together. The lino floor was badly soiled with human faeces, but what the camera zoomed in on was the rat’s droppings. Jessie could only imagine the smell. Moore had been right in one respect: drug addiction was a recurring problem.
    There was a sense among the search team that the raid was over. They had been to the top of the building and found it empty. None of the addicts had had the energy to mount the extra flight of stairs; they had fallen on the floor that they’d arrived at. The general level of chat increased as the team made their way back down to the lobby,but silence fell when a call summoned them to the boiler room, the beating heart of Marshall Street Baths. Jessie wasn’t out of danger yet.
    When the person holding the camera walked into the engine room, Jessie’s spirits rose. It was like returning to modern times. The lighting was bright, the tanks were new and painted in shiny red Hammerite, the flumes looked like concertinaed silver foil, while the network of water pipes resembled Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. It was immediately obvious that the water tanks had not been tampered with. It was a closed-loop water system and the bolts had not been removed since installation; the original paint still covered the joins. No one had used this scalding water to make evidence broil away.
    Jessie was beginning to envisage the view from her new office. A good sunset was like a religion to