The Dark and Deadly Pool Read Online Free

thick that the gap was well hidden.
    I struggled from the shrubbery, pulling twigs from my hair, and bumped into Art.
    “So there you are,” he said. “I thought you must have gone back inside to start your shift.” He wasn’t very subtle. He stared at his watch and then at me.
    “I was helping you look,” I said.
    “It’s a waste of time,” Art said. “No way anyone could get in or out of here.”
    “Yes, there is!” I said. “There’s a gap where the walls don’t meet. I found it!”
    He looked surprised. “You’re kidding.”
    “No, I’m not. Go look for yourself.”
    Art looked at his watch again. “Okay. But you’d better get into the office. And scrub the tiles around the Jacuzzi before you leave tonight. Deeley called in sick this morning, so they didn’t get taken care of.”
    I thought he’d be more excited by my news. “But somebody got into the pool last night. He must have squeezed through that gap.”
    “Some kid probably,” Art said.
    “We should have somebody close it.”
    “I’ll get maintenance on it.”
    “Do you want me to call them when I get to the office?”
    “I want you to do your job,” he said. “You’ll be the only one on duty. I’ll take care of it later. G’wan, Liz. Get busy.”
    Mrs. Bandini waved at me again. Her friend, Mrs. Larabee, had joined her. She waved too. “I’ve got something to tell you,” Mrs. Bandini called.
    “I’ll be there in a minute,” I called back.
    Quickly I locked my handbag in the bottom deskdrawer and checked the women’s dressing room, picking up a few towels that had been dropped on a bench under the sign saying, PLEASE PUT TOWELS IN THE BASKET . I turned off a shower that had been left dripping and gave the rest room a once-over. I put a fresh stack of towels on the little table next to the door leading from the office to the exercise room, and scanned the pool area from the office window. There seemed to be only four hotel guests and eight club members. It was always pretty quiet in midafternoon. The hotel guests began to arrive around five-thirty. Their business meetings were over, and they were ready for a swim. The club could get pretty crowded during weekday evenings. Even though Art Mart had undoubtedly done the cross-check with the photo-ID cards, I went over them too.
    The photo-ID cards were Lamar’s idea. As the hotel guests registered at the front desk, they were also automatically registered on film by hidden cameras. They didn’t know they were being photographed, and Lamar thought it was better that way. No nonsense about posing or wanting a copy or getting embarrassed because it was a bad shot. He wasn’t looking for star quality, Lamar had said. He was simply taking one more step to guard the safety and well-being of all guests of the Ridley Hotel.
    The security force studied those photographs, and believe me, there were no strangers wandering around the Ridley Hotel. Duplicate cards were sent each morning and afternoon to the health club along with a list of guests who had checked out, so their cards could be tossed. The cards of regular club members, who lived in Houston, were also on file.
    I liked to go over the cards. It helped me to remember names, and everyone likes to be addressed by name.
    It was also fun to study the types of faces and wonder who each person was and what he or she was like. There were glum faces and eager faces and faces with expressions from peevish to placid. Opening the card file and thumbing through it, guessing about the people behind the faces, made me think of opening a box of smooth-looking chocolates and trying to figure out which hid the chocolate creams and which held the cherries. Some of the faces stayed a few days and became familiar. Some came and disappeared and came back again. Some popped in on an afternoon, but were on their way the next day and never returned.
    I glanced at Sylvia Bandini’s card. She was a club member, here every day. Tina said that Mrs.