William had no idea that his prayers had been answered as he lay unconscious on the floor. The shut off switch sprang back and the switch turned off. A limp strip of grey electrical duct tape dangled from the switch.
Jock Kelly came on duty five days a week, Monday to Friday, at six am sharp. It was now six-ten, Monday morning. It had taken him ten minutes to unlock his office in the basement, check his emails and take the flight of stairs to the first floor. As he walked briskly towards the Fitness Centre the first thing he noticed was the typed notice taped to the door - Closed for Maintenance. He grabbed the notice and screwed it up into a ball and wondered who the practical joker was.
The affable Scot had been the building superintendent at the Panorama Apartments for almost five years. He was meticulous in the way he carried out his duties and he shook his head when he saw the pile of clothing on the bench at the northern end of the pool and he wondered what had gone on the night before. Jock picked up the set of keys and the mobile phone which was tucked under a pair of grey tracksuit pants and realised he would have to put the car park key through the DKS reader to see who the keys belonged to. The mobile phone was dead.
Jock cast his eye around for anything else that looked amiss as he made his way towards the edge of the pool. It was all clear. Checking the pool was one of the items on his mental checklist. Last summer an elderly resident suffered a heart attack while doing laps and Jock had discovered his body spread-eagled at the bottom of the pool.
But everything seemed in order today and for that, Jock Kelly was grateful. He turned to leave knowing he still had to inspect the rest of the building before returning to the basement to check the garage roller doors and put the key tag through the reader to find out who the clothes and mobile phone belonged to. The garage doors had been playing up recently and he was fed up with being called out late at night to let someone into or out of the building.
He checked his watch. If he hurried he’d make it across the Bridge before the traffic got too heavy. He stopped as he turned to leave. Something had caught his attention. He looked at the wall next to the steam room and tried to make sense of the strip of grey electrical tape dangling from the automatic shut off switch. When he reached the steam room he tugged at its heavy timber door and wondered why it wouldn’t open. He looked down at his feet and saw the thin wedge of timber which had been placed under the door. He kicked it away with his foot and looked through the window.
‘What tha fawk?’
William Phillips was lying on his side on the floor, unconscious or perhaps dead. The white floor tiles where he lay were smeared with a pool of sticky blood. He pushed against the door, it opened and he bent down and shook William violently. ‘Wake up marn for Christ’s sake!’ he yelled.
William opened his eyes, groaned and looked up at Jock.