The Unquiet Dead (26 page)

‘Who said anything about dark forces? These earthbound spirits are not necessarily evil; most of them are just misplaced. As for convincing you, I don’t have to. Marshall Street Baths will do that all by itself.’ Again his eyes shifted a fraction, over her left shoulder. ‘That is, if it hasn’t already done so.’

Jessie left Burrows and Niaz at the station and walked the short distance to the baths. After what Father Forrester had said, maybe it was worth checking up on Don again. Maybe he knew more than he realised. Not because there were spirits whispering in his ears, but because he’d spent his life watching what went on at Marshall Street Baths. He’d had a bird’s-eye view.

Jessie hammered on the door for five minutes before Don heard her. Standing in the old foyer she felt again the sheer weight of human traffic that had passed through the doors during the building’s lifetime. Staring at the sad, empty pool, she felt sorry for the place. Of course it made her feel miserable, it was a miserable place. A broken promise in brick.

‘I’m here all the time now,’ said the caretaker. ‘It’s my fault those druggies came back, I mustn’t let it happen again.’

‘Don, do you mind if I ask you some more questions?’

‘More questions,’ he said sadly.

‘Not about Jonny,’ said Jessie quickly. ‘About the building, about the other people who used the baths.’

His face lit up.

‘I like talking about the building. It was built in the twenties. God, we Brits were a bunch of wimps, not fit for the front line. They needed to beef us up, so they started building pools and everyone was encouraged to swim. Fat lot of good it did
them, they got slaughtered second time round just the same. Still, we benefited, I suppose. As for me, I always wanted to be a lifeguard.’

‘The man we found in the boiler room, he must have used the pools.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Do you remember a man with a limp? It would have been very pronounced.’

He scratched his head.

‘Easy to notice,’ she said, simplifying things for him.

‘It’s a long time ago now,’ he said, still looking perplexed.

‘I know. Take your time.’

‘’Course there were special lessons for the handicapped and such. They weren’t allowed in my pool. They had to go to the baby pool.’

‘Who looked after them?’

‘The council. People who had no arms and legs came sometimes. That was weird, seeing them trying to swim. We did sponsored swims for people like that. Some of the regulars became friends.’

‘Anyone with a limp?’

‘Not the … you know, them. Their helpers, though, they were always nice. Bloody saints, if you ask me. They were always making funny noises. There’ve been so many people, so many faces, so much noise. It could drive a man crazy.’

‘That’s okay, Don. What about the boiler room? Did anyone go down there other than you?’

The elderly man suddenly reached out for Jessie’s arm. ‘Will they be opening up the other pits down there?’

‘They looked in all the pits, Don. You know that.’

‘And the coal stores?’

‘Yes. Why do you ask?’

‘Well, I thought it would all stop when they took him away, but it hasn’t.’

‘What would stop, Don?’

He looked at her for a second with such frightened eyes that Jessie took a step back. He put a hand to his head. ‘Questions, questions, questions. No more questions.’

Jessie took his arm gently. ‘I’m sorry. How about you show me your scrapbook? You could tell me who your friends were.’

‘Danny was my friend, and Rose, then there was Tim and …’ He went on listing names as Jessie led the way out of the empty pool-room and descended to the lower level. She switched on the light and waited for all the bulbs to glow before walking down the corridor that led to the modern boiler room. ‘… it’s been a long time since I’ve had friends like those.’

‘Don, the voices that you hear – the medication does help, doesn’t it?’

He looked around shiftily. ‘If I tell you, you won’t tell the doctors, will you?’

‘No.’

‘I pretend he goes away, but he never does.’

‘Who?’

‘Jonny Romano.’

‘You didn’t kill Jonny Romano. He took drugs, he had a seizure, he drowned.’

‘I could have saved him. I know that, you know that, and he knows that. He won’t let me forget. We’re both trapped here.’

‘It was an accident. You said so yourself.’

‘Is was NOT an accident. Do you think I’m stupid?’

Don’s confusion was genuine.

Jessie thought about what Father Forrester had said, that a bad place could seep into a person’s mind and contaminate their spirit. ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t be here all the time. It isn’t your sole responsibility to keep the drug addicts out. Your only responsibility here is to check the boiler room. You don’t have to be here all the time.’

‘Boiler room,’ he said.

‘It’s just an empty building,’ said Jessie.

‘He’s waiting for me,’ said Don. ‘He’s very close now.’

Finally all the lights came on and they proceeded to the entrance of the boiler room. ‘See – there’s nothing to be frightened of in here –’

It came from nowhere. Just as Don peered into the room a blue ball of flame ignited in front of them. They were sent tumbling backwards. Jessie put her hands to her cheek and felt where the flame had licked her face. Her skin felt hot and crinkly, but she couldn’t feel any pain. The explosion burnt
itself out as quickly as it had ignited. She rolled over and pushed herself up off the floor. ‘Don, are you all right?’

He lay beside her, curled up in a ball. He wasn’t moving.

‘Don,’ she said again softly. Cautiously, she turned him over. She knew at once that he was dead.

‘You bastard!’ she cried out, her voice echoing through the empty corridor. She didn’t know who she was shouting at or why she was shouting or whether she expected an answer. She looked down at Don.

This was not happening. He couldn’t be dead. It wasn’t his time. Jessie rolled him flat on to his back and without further thought performed emergency CPR. She pressed the pads of her palms into his chest, five jerks, followed by a long slow breath. Five jerks. One slow breath. Five jerks. One slow breath. ‘Please don’t die, please don’t die, please don’t die,’ she repeated quietly. Five jerks. One long breath. Something moved. His eyelid fluttered. She pressed her ear to his chest and listened. It was faint, but it was there: a very weak heartbeat.

Niaz, Burrows and Jessie sat round a small table in the hospital cafeteria. An announcement blared out over the Tannoy system:

‘…Will Mr Malcolm Edwards please report to neonatal immediately …’

News of the explosion had quickly reached CID
and Burrows and Niaz had rushed over to make sure Jessie was okay. She was. The burns on her face were superficial. Don had borne the brunt of the blaze.

‘What did the gas company say?’ asked Jessie.

‘That there hasn’t been any gas piped into the building for years.’

‘What do the boilers run off, then?’

‘Oil,’ replied Burrows.

‘It was in the air, it had to be gas.’

‘There hasn’t been any –’

‘Then it must have been trapped. We’ve been traipsing all over the place, someone could have knocked a pipe and released it somehow.’

‘I asked them. They said that was highly unlikely.’

‘Highly unlikely means it’s possible, right?’

Burrows and Niaz exchanged looks. ‘Father Forrester did say –’ ventured Burrows.

‘Don’t,’ warned Jessie. ‘A man nearly died. Please do him the respect of sticking to fact.’

‘The fact is, ma’am,’ said Niaz, ‘we may never be able to explain it.’

‘Don’t you start, Niaz.’

‘He said “unexplained phenomenon”,’ continued Burrows.

‘Unlikely isn’t unexplained. I was there: the flames were blue. Blue means gas. However unlikely that may sound, it was gas.’

‘But it isn’t the first time something strange has happened there,’ said Burrows.

Jessie was furious with both of them for leaping
on the spiritualist bandwagon and leaving her and common sense behind.

‘I can understand why people want to believe in exorcists. If the result is a clearing of the air, then all the better. It’s the placebo effect. It happens time and time again in clinical trials. Fifty per cent of the time the sugar pill works, so why not in the case of the supernatural? A robed man turns up with the Bible, Holy water and a bit of incense, says a few prayers and, Hey presto, the spirits have moved on.’

‘What about the gas cylinder?’

‘It’s cylindrical; cylindrical things roll, and from watching the flood water it’s clear the ground isn’t level. Next.’

‘The explosion?’

‘Trapped gas, Burrows.’

‘The electricity cutting out?’

‘If you want it to be ghosts, then fine. Personally, I put it down to a leaky building and dodgy wiring. Everything can be explained your way, but equally, everything can be explained my way.’

Check the date. He drowned. It was an accident. Listen to yourself
. In fact the only thing she couldn’t explain was what went on in her own head.

The three sat in silence watching the activity in the cafeteria as patients and their families clustered round their formica tables, sipping lukewarm tea, full of forced jollity and inane conversation, all the while avoiding any discussion of death.

Burrows asked Jessie, ‘What were you doing down there anyway?’

‘We were going to look at his scrapbook.’

‘It’s as if someone wanted to stop you getting it.’

Jessie reached down into her bag. ‘Well, they didn’t succeed.’

She made room on their table for the worn journal and opened it at random. Placing her hand on a yellowed newspaper clipping, she turned to them.

‘Burrows, I want you to talk to the archives department at the council. They must have some sort of record of the disabled swimming groups that Don talked about. I want names, details of their disabilities and the dates they occurred. Niaz, see if your friend Asma can find out anything about Mrs Romano. Do that cross-pollinating thing, see if her disappearance raised any eyebrows.’

‘She’s not my friend,’ said Niaz very quietly.

‘Whatever. We have to find Mrs Romano. Begin a nationwide search.’

She looked down at the photograph under her hand. Michael D. Firth, the proud lifeguard, was staring back at her from the midst of a group posing in the foyer of the baths. Danny, Rose, Tim … They’d raised money for a minibus. Everyone was smiling; the sense of pride radiated off the yellowing page.

The door of the canteen opened and a physician approached their table. Jessie, Burrows and Niaz stood.

‘Which one is DI Driver?’

Jessie stepped forward.

‘Congratulations. You saved a man’s life today. Not many people get to know what that feels like.’ Jessie wasn’t sure whether he was congratulating her or himself.

‘Why did he just die like that?’

‘He had a heart attack. You got it going again. Physically, he is a fit man, and that helped. I cannot venture what triggered the attack. His heart looks healthy. Did something happen to frighten him?’

‘There was an explosion, right in front us. He took the full impact.’

‘I thought that was what the nurse said, but I dismissed it.’

‘Why?’

‘He has no burns. Not even a hair of his moustache was singed.’

‘But he was in front of me,’ said Jessie. ‘And look at me.’

‘You should see someone about that,’ said the doctor. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me –’ With that he turned and made his way out. But Jessie wasn’t satisfied. Moments later she chased him down the corridor.

‘No, hold on! We’ve been waiting for hours – is that all you can tell me? What about the medication he’s on?’

‘Well, he’s been on a lot of different drugs over the years.’

‘Might that have contributed?’

‘I couldn’t say. It this part of an investigation?’

‘He told me the pills didn’t work. He said he lied to his doctors.’

‘Schizophrenics always lie to their doctors. We expect it and up the dosage.’

‘What if he were telling the truth?’

The doctor snorted. Enraged by his arrogance, she turned back towards the cafeteria, now more confused than ever.

Dominic Rivers was standing by Niaz and Burrows.

‘I heard you were casing the joint,’ he said. ‘What have you done to yourself this time?’

‘Never mind,’ said Jessie sternly. Dominic looked at her arms.

‘Do you want me to check –?’

Seeing the quizzical glances Niaz and Burrows were exchanging, she cut in: ‘Nope, I’m fine.’

‘Right. Can’t stop, but I thought you’d like to know: your dead geezer, he’d attempted suicide on two, possibly three occasions. None were successful, as we know.’