Murder at Lost Dog Lake (9 page)

“
Well, that’s enough marshmallows for me,” Rachel, who hadn’t
eaten any, announced loudly. She threw back her arms and puffed out
her chest and stretched languorously. Joe almost fell off his log
into the fire.

Long
after everyone else had crawled into their tent and the fire had
gone out and Barb’s snoring echoed throughout the camp, Richard
crept through the tent flap like a thief in the night and slunk
silently into his sleeping bag.

I was
still awake. My bed was comfortable enough considering that I used
a towel-wrapped life jacket for a pillow and about a ¼ inch of
padding came between my bones and the cold, hard ground, but I
couldn’t fall asleep. My thoughts were full of my sons and how much
I missed them, and of my new business and what a mistake I might
have made leaving the police and striking out with Wayne, my new
partner.

“
There you are at last,” Dianne hissed as Richard fumbled his
way into his sleeping bag. Apparently I wasn’t the only one having
trouble nodding off. “That was a pretty disgraceful exhibition, I
must say.”

Richard
made shushing sounds. “You’ll wake Leanne.”

“
Never mind Leanne, she sleeps like a camel.”

I have
no idea of how a camel sleeps, but I vaguely thought that perhaps I
had been insulted. In an agony of embarrassment I tried to breathe
deeply and evenly.

“
Don’t you ever talk to me like that in front of other people
again, do you hear me, Richard?” Dianne’s voice was ominously
low-pitched and quivered with barely-controlled rage.

“
Sorry, dear heart,” Richard mumbled. “Let’s go to sleep,
okay? We have another long day tomorrow.”

“
Well I’m not ready for sleep. Remember that it was your idea
to come on this trip with me this year. You never have before. You
wanted the bonding experience, or whatever you call it, with your
new partner Joe. Good old boy Joe, who isn’t mature enough to get a
woman his own age so he has to rob the cradle for a bimbo who
doesn’t see anything but the dollar signs dancing in front of her
eyes.”

“
Shut up, Dianne,” Richard’s anger was returning. “All of
Algonquin Park can hear you.”

I closed
my eyes tightly and tried to regulate my breathing. I am sleepy, I
am so sleepy, I am falling asleep. Breathe in, breathe out… It
didn’t seem to help.

“
So what if they do? This guy’s a looser, Richard, another in
your endless stream of sore luck cases. And let me tell you, I’m
not going to bail you out again. You can sink or swim on your own
this time, without my help, you and your pal Joe. Do you
understand?” Dianne’s voice was so cold she could have cut ice with
her words alone.

I moaned
and stretched and flopped restlessly onto my back. Maybe they would
shut up if they thought they were disturbing my sleep.

“
Let me remind you, Dianne, that you thought it was a great
idea to invite Joe and Rachel to join us this week. ‘Cement the
bonds of business and friendship’ I believe you said. ‘Like my
daddy always did.’”

“
Don’t you mention my daddy in that tone of voice. My father
was a great man of industry. My father’s money keeps you in
business and you’d better not forget it.”

Richard
sighed heavily as all the fight drained out of him in a rush of
expelled breath. “Please, dearest. We’re here now, so let’s make
the best of it. I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I know that
you’re trying to make sure that everyone has a good
time.”

Their
sleeping bags rustled as Richard slithered closer to Dianne. She
muttered affectionately about simply wanting to help. With a flash
of horror I thought they were going to make up, right here, in
front of me. Fortunately they only murmured sweet endearments to
each other before rolling over and settling into sleep. Lucky them.
I stared at the absolute darkness of the tent ceiling well into the
night.

Chapter 7

Day 4: Morning

It
didn’t require a trained observer to notice that Richard and Dianne
had been fighting and were now in the process of making up. That
morning, as we ate breakfast and broke camp, he followed her
everywhere like an eager puppy, full of loving endearments and
lavish attention. I found the display a bit sickening, but Dianne
seemed happy enough and who am I, after all, to be criticizing
other people’s marriages?

Craig
was loading the equipment pack well away from the others. I took
the opportunity to pull him aside and whispered, “Would it be
possible, do you think, to change the order of people in the canoes
today?”

He
grinned. “A bit tired of wonder woman, are you? Sure, I’ll suggest
it.”

And he
did. To my surprise Rachel immediately volunteered to ride with me.
Left by herself, Dianne gestured to Barb. “You can partner with me,
dear.” Barb didn’t look too terribly thrilled, but she managed a
smile and slung her pack into Dianne’s canoe.

“
I’m glad we got this chance to work together,” Dianne said to
Barb, holding the stern of the boat steady for the younger woman to
clamber in. “It will give me a chance to show you how to work on
improving some of your strokes and get up to a better
speed.”

Craig
rolled his eyes. Unfortunately I wasn’t the only one to catch the
expression. Richard threw Craig a look full of fire. Craig stared
back and for a moment I was afraid they were going to slug it out
right there on the beach. Could it have been only yesterday that
Richard was yelling at Dianne and the guide was leaping to her
defense?

Craig
turned away first, and he called for a volunteer to ride with
him.

“
I guess I will,” mumbled Joe, with somewhat less than rousing
enthusiasm.

“
That leaves us,” Richard said to Jeremy. Jeremy scowled,
watching Barb and Dianne push off into open water.

With
some regret I watched my lovely little stretch of beach dwindle
away to nothing behind us. I sat in the stern, glad of the chance
to be navigating the canoe. The paddler in the back, or the stern,
provides the direction. The person in the front, called the bow,
supplies most of the power. In theory, at least. In a sense the
stern person is the “captain” of the little craft, while the other
acts as the “crew”. I’m not one of the world’s greatest canoe
women, by any stretch of the imagination, but I do rather like to
be in charge, regardless of the circumstances.

“
Did Craig or Joe explain that it is up to you to provide the
power? To keep us moving?” I asked Rachel once we were
underway.

“
Yes,” she whispered.

“
And that you have to tell me if we are near anything like
rocks or logs lying under the water that I may not be able to
see?”

“
Yes.”

Today
the wind was at our backs, which made paddling considerably easier
than yesterday. In the far distance a small flotilla had harnessed
their canoes together under some sort of tarpaulin and were making
good time under sail.

“
Pirates!” I shouted to Craig and pointed.

He
laughed. “Lazy man’s way! What a bunch of wimps.”

“
That looks like fun,” Rachel said. The wind snatched most of
her words and whisked them away.

“
I can’t hear you very well,” I told her. “Turn your head
slightly to speak to me.”

“
I said that I think that looks like a good idea. Do you think
Craig will let us try it?”

“
Not a chance.”

“
I love to sail,” she sighed.

“
Do you sail much?”

“
Oh, no. We don’t have a boat of our own or anything. One year
I went to Jamaica with a bunch of girlfriends. We rented a sailboat
with a crew for a day. It was so much fun.”

Not like
this. I filled in the unspoken words.

“
But Joe has friends who have boats so they often take us out
on Lake Ontario for the day. They serve cocktails and wine and a
fabulous lunch, usually with shrimp or lobster or something. It’s
always so nice.” She sighed happily.

“
I don’t understand what you people like about canoeing so
much.” Rachel stopped paddling and turned to face me.

As
expected Dianne and Barb were far out in front, but Richard and
Jeremy followed close behind. Keeping an eye on their women, no
doubt. Like the mommy duck watching over her little brood, Craig
kept his pace well down and drifted off to our right.

Normally
one would consider that sort of comment to be rhetorical and let it
pass without a response. But Rachel was looking at me intently,
clearly expecting an answer.

“
Well,” I fumbled for the words. How do you explain something
inimitable to your soul? Something that is almost a part of your
being. Without sounding trite. “I love the wilderness.” I stumbled
over the words. She continued to stare at me with those lovely eyes
and I carried on. “I really don’t like living in the city much.
Although I was raised in the suburbs of Toronto, I’ve always felt
that the wilderness is where I belong. It’s been a long time since
I’ve been up here, but it’s where I am happy. The quiet, the
solitude, the trees. I love trees.

“
One day I might come on a trip by myself, to really
experience the silence. But not for a few years yet. I don’t have
any equipment of my own any more, and I guess I’m a bit afraid of
doing it all for myself. So for now, a group like this suits me
perfectly.”

“
Why don’t you live up here, then?” she asked with an amazing
degree of candor. “Why do you live in Toronto, if it’s not where
you want to be?”

“
Well, I have kids,” I explained, “and children need to be
near the city, where everything is, you know?”

To my
considerable relief Rachel did not pursue that topic. It made
complete sense, to her.

“
It’s pretty enough around here, I guess,” she said as she
turned away and continued paddling. We hadn’t traveled for long
before she laid down her paddle and once again turned to face
me.

“
You people must think that I am a terrible sport. You all
hate me!”

Automatic answer: “Of course not”

“
But you do. I know you do. I know that Craig and Dianne do.
I’m trying, really I am.” Her eyes filled with tears. “But I’ve
never done anything like this before, and I absolutely hate
it.”

“
I’ll agree, it’s not the vacation for everyone.” Craig
noticed that we were stopped. Some of the tension in our voices
probably carried across the water if not the words themselves. He
slowed down and looked as if he were about to turn and come over to
us. Trying to look causal, and not to be noticed by Rachel, I waved
him away. He took the meaning and kept his distance.

“
I need my things, my bathroom and my hair dryer. Will you
look at this hair,” she sobbed. I thought her hair looked great.
The red waves were tied back into a thick bundle behind her head.
Tendrils had escaped from their band to drift into gentle curls
around her forehead and cheeks. Her hair probably looked a hundred
times better than it did when, teased and sprayed, she walked out
of the hairdresser.

“
My clothes are dirty and my nails are broken.” She burst into
full-blown sobs. Oh great, I mumbled to myself. Here we are out in
the middle of the lake and I am stuck with this crying woman.
Unable to touch her, I made soothing gestures with my
hands.

Dianne
and Barb and Richard and Jeremy were getting fainter and fainter in
the distance. Craig and Joe bobbed quietly ahead of us. Craig’s
face was etched with concern as he watched one group almost
disappear out of sight and another stranded in a sea of
emotion.

“
I’m almost due to have my period. What will I do then?” She
continued to cry.

“
You’ll manage. Like women have always managed.” This was
enough. I was supposed to be on vacation here. I paid good money
for this trip and I don’t run a counseling service. “How do you
think women managed for thousands of years before tampons and
sanitary bins? Believe it or not, they got on fine.”

A cry
caught in her throat and Rachel looked up at me, “I guess you’re
right.” She pulled up her T-shirt to wipe at her eyes. “You must
hate me.”

“
Oh, for heaven’s sake. I don’t hate you at all. Why did you
come on this trip anyway? Surely you read up on it before, didn’t
you? You must have known what to expect.”

She
looked sheepish. “I didn’t know anything about it. Joe told me we’d
been invited to go on a vacation with his new partner and his wife.
He said the wife is the one who really controls the money and this
would be a great opportunity to butter her up.

“
At first I thought we were going to their cottage. Joe told
me that they have a fabulous cottage on Lake Rosseau. I had a
boyfriend when I was in High School whose family had a cottage near
there, on Lake Joseph. It was really nice, like a house on the
water, you know, not a cottage at all.

“
Then Joe told me that we were going on a wilderness trip. So
I kinda thought, you know, it would be a fly-in sort of thing.
Where you get into a little bush plane to fly into a really nice
luxury resort, you know.