SEVEN DEADLY THINGS (Henry & Sparrow Book 3) by A FOX (best value ebook reader TXT) 📗

up to the entrance and found that it wasn’t locked. There was a CAUTION — WET FLOOR notice standing on the tiles inside and he guessed a cleaner might be finishing up in there. He took a look around and then stepped in, pulling the door quietly closed behind him. A warm fug of chlorinated air enveloped him at once. He allowed Sid to guide him around the mirror-still main pool, along the stretch beneath the see-through flume, past a drum-shaped jacuzzi, empty and silent, and finally to a shallow set of steps into the aquamarine splash pool, beneath a clump of full-sized fake palm trees.

Here. This was it. The area where Martin had breathed his last. Here was where he had taken a knife from his pocket and slit his own throat. There were dark twists of residual energy still vibrating through the stone of the tiles and the high-pitched frequency of the glass in the atrium overhead.

But not the vibrations he would associate with a desperate, hopeless soul, seeking an escape into oblivion.

‘She was right, Sid,’ he said. ‘He didn’t kill himself.’ He sighed. Now what? What was he meant to do with all this certainty and not a shred of evidence to back it up? Damn. He should never have come here. Why the hell couldn’t he be content with a quiet life?

A scream rang out across the water.

10

‘Oh shhhh-sugar — I’m sorry!’ Ellie was consumed with embarrassment. ‘I just didn’t expect anyone to be in here. It’s shut for the night, you know…?’

The good-looking guy in a black bike leathers smiled and raised his hands. ‘No really — I’m sorry. Lurking around here like this after hours. I’m not surprised you were scared. I was just having a quick look at the facilities — the door wasn’t locked.’

‘You can come in for a swim from seven in the morning,’ she said, holding a stack of three Buntin’s Bear floats across her chest like a shield, although it was clear the guy was perfectly nice.

‘I might do that,’ he said, and for the first time since last Tuesday evening, she thought there might be some reason to want to come back into the pool complex. He looked pretty fit. What the hell was he doing at Buntin’s?

‘I’m off to meet my friend in the bar,’ he said. ‘I’m just dropping in; not staying on site.’

‘OK — good — well, have a great time,’ she said.

‘Um…’ he paused by the door. ‘Were you here when that guy… that guy killed himself last week?’

She felt a surge of adrenaline. ‘Are you a reporter?’ she said, dropping the sweetness. Gary had warned her about this.

‘No, I just heard about it… wondered…’ he said, staring at her very intently.

‘I’m sorry, but I have to close up now,’ she said, putting on her best brisk, no-nonsense voice. ‘You need to go and find your friend in the bar.’ She gave him a tight, end-of-conversation smile and he, thank god, took the cue and buggered off.

As soon as he’d descended the steps outside the side door and vanished from sight, she locked up. She really could have done without this. The Alligators March this evening had not taken in the pool complex, and never would again while she was on staff. She was planning never to come in here again, but another Blue had gone off sick, so she’d been abruptly put back on the rota to double-check the pool and lock up, as soon as she’d sent the kids off to bed. It was a bit bloody much, really, considering. She would have to talk to Gary and get taken off this duty. The new lifeguard was arriving on Monday, but she honestly couldn’t do this again tomorrow night. It wasn’t fair.

She tidied the floats and checked everything that needed to be switched off was switched off. Then, keeping her eyes firmly away from the spot where Martin’s body had floated out, she walked back to the main door facing the pavilion, then stepped outside and locked that too, with a shiver.

She dropped the key back to Mike in the security hub. As soon as he saw her, Mike rolled his chair away from the bank of screens in the darkened room and waved a snorkel at her.

‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell the mum to drop in for it tomorrow.’

‘Huh. She’s probably still up, partying,’ said Mike, rolling his eyes. ‘You could give it to her in the bar.’

She grinned and folded her arms, leaning in the doorway. ‘You don’t really approve, do you?’

‘Of what?’

‘All these mums letting their hair down while their kids are asleep in the chalets.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s up to them,’ he said. ‘The kids are safe enough with me and the Sleep Tight Team on the case.’

‘It’s a pretty good system,’ said Ellie. ‘No kidnaps yet, anyway.’

It was a pretty good system. For parents who signed up, Buntin’s offered the Sleep Tight service — which gave the Sleep Tight Team visual access to the chalets via outside security cameras, trained on the doors and windows, and inside cameras in the living areas. Once triggered by a call from the chalet from a parent, the Sleep Tight team switched on and monitored all the visual feeds, as well as a baby monitor audio feed direct from the children’s bedrooms. If any infants cried or started wandering around looking lost, the parent would be immediately contacted via their mobile phone. Or via the PA system in the bars if they didn’t answer. They could be back at their chalet within five minutes.

This part of Mike’s job, along with four night security staff who patrolled the avenues of chalets in pairs from nine-thirty until midnight when the bars shut, was basically a massive babysit.

A whimpering sound issued from one of the feeds, a red light flickering under CHALET 49. ‘Uh-oh,’ said Mike. ‘Mummy might have to stop necking vodka and Coke.’

She laughed and went on her way, checking her