Ice Lake Read Online Free PDF Page A

ability to ask a pertinent question while seemingly engaged in small talk. But the man’s size was disconcerting. He was unaccustomed to cops so small.
“Any luck today?”
“Afraid not.”
“That’s not surprising,” Painchaud offered.
Cinq-Mars was intrigued. “Should I be offended, Sergeant?”
The Sûreté detective laughed heartily, and Cinq-Mars could see that there was definitely something wonky about his mouth. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m not suggesting that you’re a lousy fisherman. How would I know? Last night was the full moon, a big night for fishing. The bay was probably fished out. With Ski-Doos and four-wheelers around for the weekend, you’d think fish would know better than to get hooked this morning.”
Cinq-Mars was willing to concede the point. “I should have taken all that into consideration.”
“But you never know, do you, when you’re fishing, what might show up?”
Cinq-Mars smiled and conceded that point as well.
“Sir, you asked my officer to check the holes. Did you have a specific reason for that request?”
Sticking a hand down the back of his collar, Cinq-Mars gave himself a good scratch between his shoulder blades. His bulky clothing, the range of temperatures in and out of the huts, and the smoke had made him itchy all over. Feeling that he was being interrogated by someone with skill also made him squirm. “I suppose Ishould mind my own business. This is out of my jurisdiction, as you know. And even within my jurisdiction it would not be my case, because I’m not connected to Homicide. I suppose I should mind my own business and shut the hell up.”
“No, sir,” the detective replied, surprising him yet again, “you shouldn’t. If you have something to contribute, I’m interested. Your reputation is immense, I’d be a fool not to consider your counsel, and I don’t consider myself a fool, Sergeant-Detective, despite what you might think about the SQ.”
Cinq-Mars met his eyes then. Clearly, his prejudices had shown, or had preceded him by reputation, and he had displayed them to the wrong person. “All right,” he consented. “I’ll tell you what I think.”
“Thank you, Sergeant-Detective.”
“Everything is conjecture. I have no facts.”
“Understood.”
Cinq-Mars sat with his feet wide apart and put his hands on his knees. “Sergeant Mathers identified an exit wound through the front of the throat.”
“That’s correct.”
“The victim was shot through the back of the neck.”
“Agreed.”
“Who does that? Given the option, what killer shoots his victim through the throat? What I think happened is this. The victim was down on his knees. He was to be shot execution-style, through the back of the head. At the last second, either because he flinched or because he suddenly knew what was going on, he jerked up slightly. The gun that had been aimed at the back of his head fired, and he was shot through the neck.”
The uniformed detective was nodding, but he had questions, objections. Cinq-Mars waited to see what they would be, to help him determine if this IO deserved more.
“How do we know that he was down on his knees?”
The right question to ask. “That’s what the wound tells us. The killer’s aim was suddenly deflected. That’s the first clue. Had the victim been standing, and suddenly flinched, the bullet would still have travelled into his head, only the head would have been turned slightly. The entry line is downward, and the location of the exit wound says that the gun was pointed down at him.”
“What’s the second clue?” Painchaud asked. Cinq-Mars had dropped that remark to see if he was sharp enough to pick it up.
“The ice inside his face.”
“It makes him look strange. Isn’t it a case of water freezing inside him? It’s cold down there.”
Cinq-Mars opened the hatch to the ice-hole under the floor. Forming a pistol-shape with his fingers, he fired an imaginary bullet. “The victim is shot and immediately falls face down into