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

didn’t like it much at all. Maybe
because it rained non stop and was one of the coldest years on
record.” Despite the drenching warmth of the sun I shivered at the
thought. “As I remember the insects were pretty fierce that year as
well, they loved all that rain. He prefers to stay at the cottage
and talk on the cell phone and make his business deals. But this is
how I relax and I need it.
    “ So here we are, the first time in years that we’re going on a
trip together and he decides it would be nice to cement his new
business deal with a nice little get-together in Algonquin Park.”
She snorted. “And thus we have the prehistoric Joe and the totally
insipid Rachel.”
    “ I don’t think Rachel’s so bad.” I tried to bite back the
words the minute I said them. Where did I get that idea?
    Dianne
snorted again. “Well, in my humble opinion, she’s a total waste of
space. And Joe is all the worse for marrying her. Richard must see
something promising in the fool. But let me tell you, he’d better
see something concrete pretty soon.”
    I was
about to ask her what she meant by that when the others drew closer
and Dianne waved and yoo-hooed with gusto.
    We met
up on the leeward side of a small island. Craig brought out the map
and once again he showed us the route for the rest of the day. Joe
and Richard clambered awkwardly out of their canoes and disappeared
into the dense bush. They returned with much slapping of backs and
deep male laughter. Why do men consider peeing to be such a bonding
ritual?
    Barb
dispensed with her shirt and appeared clad in only a bikini top and
shorts. I envied her, the heat was still building and I was
sweating profusely under my bra, but I didn’t think my lily-white,
approaching middle-aged, childbearing midriff was up to exposure of
the light of day.
    Rachel’s
tank top revealed sleek, sharply toned muscles, the sort a woman
could only get by spending countless hours in the gym. Her body was
richly tanned but her face was paler, well protected by a baseball
cap. She took off the hat to wave it in front of her face. Black
mascara gathered in pools under her eyes. The woman was sweating
her make-up off.
    I
pointed to her face and then touched the corner of one eye with my
finger. She got the point immediately and dove into her daypack for
the compact. With a silent cry she bent to the task of repairing
the damage.
    Dianne
snorted in disgust and pushed off so quickly I almost fell over the
side. Even Craig was caught off-guard by our sudden departure, and
they all scrambled to follow in our wake.
    Poor Joe
was having a bit of trouble maneuvering his canoe all by himself as
Rachel was still hard at work fixing her face. Hopefully she would
give up the effort before much longer. In the depths of Algonquin
Park, it just isn’t possible to keep the pretense that you’ve
recently emerged from a pampered, delightful day at the
spa.
    “ What about yourself, Leanne?” Dianne asked once we were back
on course. “I’ve told you my life story. Now it’s your turn. You
seem to have some paddling experience yourself.”
    “ When I was younger I did a lot of canoeing and camping. My
University friends were really into it and we had some great trips.
One year we even went canoeing in the Yukon, which was really
something. But you know how it is, I got older, life got too
hectic, kids came along, friends moved away, equipment wore out and
never got replaced. I haven’t been in a tent or a canoe for years.
I decided it was time to get back up north again. To try to
remember why I loved it up here so much.” Time to stop talking. I
was venturing onto dangerous ground.
    Dianne
asked the inevitable question. “Where are your children
now?”
    “ With their father.” I never discuss my private life. Not with
anyone, not my friends, my family, even my partner. And certainly
not to a woman of two days acquaintance. My divorce had been ugly,
destructive, bitter, and expensive, to put it mildly.