Murder on the Lake by Bruce Beckham Read Free Book Online Page B

made from leftovers), and indeed Skelgill himself has contributed the word
‘arrest’ – a particularly low-scoring effort, until Angela Cutting diplomatically
‘noticed’ that they did in fact have the spare letters ‘e’ and ‘d’ –
enabling the past participle to qualify for a fifty point bonus.  That she
has managed somehow to pin the glory for this impressive achievement upon
Skelgill (insisting that only he would have spotted the word arrest in
the first place, recognition that he took in his stride) has not gone unobserved
by certain of those others present.  Meanwhile, no doubt in furtherance of
her ongoing devilment, Sarah Redmond has patently eschewed longer,
higher-scoring words in favour of ‘ghoul’, ‘stab’ and ‘terror’.  And, now,
proceedings have drawn to a temporary halt by the dispute over the word ‘nephron’. 
Dr Gerald Bond rises to the challenge.
    ‘Dickie,
surely a chap with your extensive vocabulary would have heard of a nephron
– indeed would know what one does?’
    Dickie
Lampray looks mildly inebriated, and might well have made the challenge out of mischief. 
He glances about with glassy eyes and waves a dismissive hand.
    ‘I
have heard of nephew, Nefertiti and of being nefarious – ha-ha –
but never nephron.’
    ‘It’s
connected with the kidney.’
    This composed
intervention comes from Lucy Hecate.
    Dr
Gerald Bond, who has taken to wearing a pair of half-moon reading glasses for
the purposes of the game, regards her with what would appear to be undue scepticism,
given that she is advancing his case.  He frowns over the top of the
spectacles, as though he is about to rebuke a patient who has had the temerity to
suggest they know their ailment before the good doctor has pronounced. 
However, on this occasion he breaks into a rather macabre grin, and nods slowly
several times.
    ‘Thank
you, Lucy – I am glad there is at least one scientifically educated
person amongst us, since we don’t have the benefit of the requisite dictionary.’
    ‘But
Dr Bond – Lucy is on your side – surely we should have independent
corroboration?’
    Angela
Cutting smirks as she says this; though the game is being taken seriously it
does appear that she is merely winding up the pompous Yorkshireman.
    ‘That’s
all very well, Ms Cutting –’
    ‘Angela,
please.’
    ‘Angela,
then – but what I’m saying is, when the only knowledgeable person is on your
own team, it’s hardly fair to penalise for that.’
    Now
Dickie Lampray butts in.
    ‘Oh,
Angela, darling – I think we ought to let them have it – clearly young
Lucy is as honest as the day is long.’  He winks across at her. 
‘Besides – it’s only eight points.’
    Angela
Cutting takes a long slow sip of her martini, and narrows her eyes in a
serpentine manner.  She has kicked off her heels and has her feet drawn up
beneath her, their soles resting against Skelgill’s thigh.
    ‘Very
well, Dickie – if you insist.’  She moves sinuously and slides her
free hand over her calf and ankle, and then she drums her fingers over the
fabric of Skelgill’s jeans.  ‘All the sooner for our turn – it’s you
to go for us... Inspector.’
    Skelgill
has evidently been waiting, and hoping for a space to remain clear, for he eagerly
gathers up five of the tiles.
    ‘There’s
no holding back the Inspector.’
    Dickie
Lampray makes this remark, but he – and several of the others suddenly
fall silent, open mouthed, even.  For Skelgill has put down the word bumfit .
    Now,
if this were only admissible, it would be a humdinger of a score, with
forty-eight points to begin with (landing a double letter score for the ‘f’ and
a triple word score for the word itself), plus another thirty-three points for
converting ‘plum’ into ‘plumb’, with the ‘b’ landing on the triple word square. 
A grand total of eighty-one points.  If it were only admissible.
    However,
for a terrible moment there is an awkward