Murder on the Lake Read Online Free PDF Page A

gestures regally to the
position more or less opposite her, where Skelgill sat earlier.  ‘This
fire gives out so little heat, you ought to take priority, since you are the
one who has been braving the elements.’
    Skelgill,
under close scrutiny, has now finished removing his outer garments for a second
time.  He raises a quizzical eyebrow, but nonetheless, he complies with
her suggestion.
    ‘Don’t
worry, madam – that’s top of my list to sort out.’
    Indeed,
he reaches for the heavy poker, and with a couple of heaves he separates the
logs, skilfully racking them into a more open lattice.  Immediately, the
fire responds – first with a rather ominous billowing of smoke, but then
with a sudden burst of bright orange flame.  The woman claps her hands
together gleefully, and slides sideways to be closer to the grate.  Her
dark eyes glint as they reflect the growing blaze.
    ‘What
a relief to have a man about the house.’
    She
says this rather musingly.  Skelgill seems unprepared for the compliment.
    ‘I
thought your Mr Boston was a Special Forces trooper, madam?’
    She
seems entranced by the by the flames that lick and leap about the woodpile, but
now she flashes him a dismissive sideways glance.  Her response, however,
is somewhat oblique.
    ‘I
haven’t felt properly warm since we arrived here on Thursday.’
    ‘It
has been rather autumnal, madam.’
    Now
she considers him more resolutely.
    ‘You are allowed to call me by my name... Inspector .’  She smirks as she
emphasises the enunciation of his title.  ‘To my friends I’m Ange.’
    Skelgill
hesitates; he seems unsure of how to respond to the woman’s self-confident
manner.
    ‘Sorry,
madam – er, Ange – it can be tricky when there’s a whole
crowd of new people and I’ve not quite taken in their names.’  He pulls at
the knees of his jeans as if to restore non-existent creases.  ‘Plus I get
the feeling I’m now definitely on duty, given the latest development.’
    The
woman, her torso twisted towards the fire, languidly raises a shoulder and
turns her head to face him.  ‘Well, at least you can call me Ange in
private... Inspector .’
    Skelgill’s
high cheekbones have acquired a reddish tinge – it may be the extra warmth
of the fire, or perhaps the heat subtly applied by his companion.  He inhales
as though he is about to reply, but as he does so the door of the drawing room
swings open and people begin to enter.  Angela Cutting uncrosses her legs
and demurely tugs down the hem of her skirt.
    ‘In
the meantime,’ (she speaks quietly, as if for Skelgill’s ears only) ‘let’s see
if we have a missing castaway.’
    Skelgill
glances at her; she returns his gaze with a shrewd narrowing of her eyes. 
But now he watches with care as the members of the retreat file into the room;
he seems to be counting them in, perhaps rehearsing their names and occupations
– something that he has a better memory for than he is prepared to admit.
    Angela
Cutting ,
literary critic – already seated opposite him.
    Bella
Mandrake ,
aspiring writer (actress – resting?) – wearing an elaborate ball
gown that emphasises her bosom, she glides theatrically over the carpet and is
quick to nestle in beside Skelgill.
    Burt
Boston , aspiring
writer (and ex-SAS man?) – he occupies the same position as before,
diagonally opposite Skelgill, on the same settee as Angela Cutting.
    Sarah (aka Xara ) Redmond ,
successful writer – she also resumes her former seat at one end of the
cross-bench sofa.
    Linda
Gray , aspiring
writer (and chef) – she takes the other end of the aforementioned sofa.
    Dickie
Lampray –
literary agent – he pushes ahead of the two people yet standing to commandeer
the space between Burt Boston and Angela Cutting; though it is noticeable he settles
closer to the latter.
    Dr
Gerald Bond ,
aspiring writer (and erstwhile GP) – awkwardly he squeezes past those
already seated and lowers his lanky form between Linda Gray and