Murder at Lost Dog Lake (6 page)

“
Yes, I know,” Rachel sighed heavily. “But I hate it, honey. I
absolutely hate it. You never told me that we would have to use an
outhouse and carry canoes and that other people would be so close
and all that. You should have told me, Joe.”

“
I know, babe, but I was afraid that if I told you, then you
wouldn’t come.”

“
Well you’re right about that, I wouldn’t have come on this
horrible trip. Why couldn’t we have gone to Barbados, like we
planned?”

Joe’s
voice tightened. He was finished wheedling. “Because Richard’s
bitch of a wife wanted to come on a wilderness canoe trip, that’s
why. And Richard thought it would be a great opportunity to get to
know each other better and see how well we work together and all
that New Age shit. And you’re here now so tough luck. I need this
deal to work, or I’m finished. Do you understand that? I’ve put
everything we own into this deal with Richard. If it falls through
I’m broke. How do you think you’re going to like that? We won’t
miss Barbados just this year, but every year.”

“
Well, I don’t see why you got into that stupid deal with
Richard anyway. I don’t see him worrying about losing all his
money.”

“
Richard’s pockets are deep, real deep. Okay? And don’t you
question me again. All you have to do is stop whining and try not
to act like you’re going to die if you miss your hairdresser
appointment tomorrow.”

Joe’s
voice had dropped steadily as he spoke, until it was low and
menacing. Instinctively I took a step forward. Leaves rustled
behind me and I whirled around. Caught with my hand in the cookie
jar. I heaved a silent sigh of relief as a startled 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 the sight of them.

They
were polite enough to put up with our admiration for a short while
but soon tired of us and one of the adults registered displeasure
with loud shrieks of warning. We took the hint and moved
along.

“
You appear to have done a bit of canoeing before,” I said to
Dianne in a classical understatement.

She
laughed but her paddle never broke its powerful stroke. “Only every
year of my entire life. I guess that’s about 30 years now.” She
laughed heartily at her own joke and I smiled along. I am also an
all too quickly aging woman, trying to keep the years at bay with
jokes and laughter.

“
My parents bought a cottage on Lake Rosseau when I was a
teenager, but even before that we did a canoe trip every summer. As
long as I can remember, really. After we bought the cottage my dad
still took at least one week a year away from work so that he and I
could go on a wilderness trip together.”

I looked
over my shoulder to see her smiling at the memory as her paddle
sliced rhythmically through the water. The years had dropped from
her face. The memories were happy ones.

“
Just you and your dad?” I asked.

She
nodded. “My brothers weren’t interested, which made my dad so mad.
They weren’t interested in much that he loved. Such as his
business. My mom of course claimed to be too old for that camping
nonsense. Sad, isn’t it, how women of that era had to pretend to be
too frail or too timid or too old to do anything really fun? But at
the time I was glad enough of it. I adored my dad and appreciated
the time we spent alone together.”

The sun
stood high overhead, and it shone directly into her face
illuminating every line and every wrinkle. I upped my estimation of
her age by a decade or so. Dianne wanted to be everything her
mother wasn’t, and I admired her for it. And her father for
encouraging her.

“
Have you been on a trip with CBE before?”

“
Oh yes, I’ve been traveling with them for many years now.
They’re a good reliable business. My dad passed away long ago; he
left me control of his company and his canoe and camping equipment.
But he couldn’t leave me anyone to travel with. So every year I
come on a trip with CBE. Haven’t had Craig before, tho’. He seems
good. Nice looking too.” She chuckled, a deep throaty sound.
“That’s always a bonus.”

“
What about Richard? Doesn’t he come with you?” I
asked.

“
He tries to be interested, but he isn’t really. Would you
believe that this is actually the first time in almost ten years
that he has come into the wilderness with me?” She laughed
lightly.

I could
believe it, with no trouble at all, but I didn’t say so.

“
The first couple of years after my dad died I booked a guide
for just myself. It was nice, I don’t mean it wasn’t, but I like
people and I found it rather lonely, only the guide and me. No
matter how good they were, they could never be a substitute for
Dad. So now I tag along on a regular trip and I enjoy meeting the
people.”

She made
it sound like Marie Antoinette playing at milkmaid in the
Tuilleries. “What type of business did your father leave
you?”

She
named the largest car parts manufacturer in all of Canada. I
swallowed my shock and mumbled, “I’ve heard of them. It was rather
progressive of your father to leave the company to you, don’t you
think? What about your brothers?”

“
Oh, I make sure they’re taken care of.” She waved her hand
lightly in the air. The diamond on her finger caught the full force
of the noon sun and flashed like a sacrificial offering.

“
The others are rather far behind. We should wait up a bit.”
Dianne stopped paddling and leant over the side to dip her plastic
bottle into the water. I took the opportunity to apply more sun
block and stretched out luxuriously, wiggling my ankles and toes to
get some of the kinks out.

Unasked
she continued talking. “As I said, Richard came camping with me the
year we were first married. He 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.