Murder at Lost Dog Lake by Vicki Delany Read Free Book Online

squirrel
clambered up a huge white pine.
    Rachel
whimpered, “I understand honey bunch, really I do. Now let go of my
arm, please. You’re hurting me. Please?”
    Fortunately it can take a long time to unzip a tent flap,
particularly when you’re angry. I was well on my way by the time
Joe made it out of the tent.
     
    We
packed up the camp leaving not a sign of our presence, save for a
pile of ashes in the fire pit. All of the garbage that we
accumulated over the trip would be carried out with us.
    I
considered maneuvering myself into another canoe to avoid having to
partner with Dianne again, but unfortunately I was the last person
down to the lake. By the time I arrived, everyone had assumed his
or her positions of yesterday and Dianne waited impatiently for me
to join her. As before, Barb beamed from the front of Craig’s
canoe, Rachel sat with Joe and the mismatched Richard and Jeremy
shared a craft. But today Richard commandeered the
stern.
    I tucked
my life jacket over my seat and waited for Craig to make a comment.
One of Barry’s hard and fast rules laid out at the lodge insisted
that we always wear our life jackets on the water. But right now my
bottom was of more concern to me than any potential threat to my
life.
    Craig
grinned and we were underway.
    It was
another fabulous day, and the heat was already beating down on my
exposed skin. I stretched my legs out to catch as much of the
lovely, warm rays as possible. I had thickly lathered my skin with
sunscreen and pulled my baseball cap far down over my eyes as it
would go, before it plunged me into the dark. It was heavenly out
on the lake. Once again Dianne and I were way out in front as Craig
lingering behind to shepherd the other two canoes along.
    We
gathered around the map after breakfast while Craig pointed out the
day’s route. He expected to cover a lot of water, with two fairly
heavy portages along the way. Rachel attempted to show a spark of
interest; however, the effect was somewhat spoiled when she threw
quick, pleading glances at Joe out of the corner of her eyes,
obviously hoping to impress him with enthusiasm. But Craig seemed
pleased by her interest in the route, and he took the time to make
sure she could see the map.
    I
stopped working for a moment and enjoyed the feeling of my wooden
paddle resting across my knees. The lake stretched out before us.
The colors were fantastic, pure blue sky, a line of dark green
trees reaching jagged tops into the sky; a darker line, the mirror
image of the shoreline reflected in the water, then the darker
blue, verging on black, of the lake water below.
    It was
baking hot already; the sun stood alone in a sapphire
sky.
    I dipped
my water bottle over the side and squeezed it gently to release all
of the trapped air. Water rushed in to fill the vacuum and I took a
good long drink.
    Beautiful.
    Some
people are concerned about the drinking water in the lakes, and use
tablets or filters to purify it. Particularly after the
tainted-water scares experienced by some Ontario rural communities
lately. But I have always enjoyed the taste of water straight out
of a remote lake (although I wouldn’t touch it from a lake lined
with cottages and overflowing with motorboats and jet skis). The
trick is to take it well away from the shore, and reach down
deep.
    “ Good water, eh?” Dianne said.
    “ And all free for the taking.”
    We
paddled on in comfortable silence. Other groups of canoes and a few
singles, passed by in the far distance but no one came
close.
    “ Off to the right, look,” Dianne cried.
    A small
family of loons bobbed up and down on the tiny waves only a few
yards away. Mom and Dad and two charming babies hitching a ride on
their parents’ backs. Their black and white coloring and tiny
maniacal red eyes stood clear and sharp against the deep blue of
the lake. Sunlight turned the water all around them into a
shimmering field of gold lame. We stopped paddling and sat for
several minutes, simply enjoying