Читать книгу Ice Lake - John A Lenahan - Страница 10

The spring-fed lake was icy and Harry wished the inflatable water lounger that he found under the deck had more air in it. After unsuccessfully trying to travel feet first in the direction of the four women floating about a hundred feet out, he turned his under-inflated vessel and paddled backwards with more steam.

“You’re about halfway there,” he heard MK call. “A little more starboard, sailor.”

Harry looked over his shoulder, almost tipping himself overboard, and adjusted his trajectory. The four women were all on identical water loungers that were far more luxurious than his. Theirs had high backs and sunken cupholders in the armrests and were tied together with rope around a central floating ice chest.

A large woman with scraggly grey hair and an orange one-piece bathing suit was unceremoniously trying to untie herself from the rest. Harry heard her saying: “Well, I object.”

“That is duly noted, Helen,” MK said.

Helen produced a cute little canoe from under her legs and began to paddle angrily back to the shore. She stopped to point at Harry. “No offence but I’m not staying if you’re here.”

“How could he possibly take offence from that?” the younger woman replied.

As he watched Helen motor back to the shore, Harry asked: “Was it something I said?”

“Don’t mind her,” the oldest woman said. “Helen has social skill problems.”

“Yeah,” the blonde one said. “She doesn’t have any.”

“Now, now, Helen’s not so bad. She just doesn’t like… well, people, but I’m working on her. See, floating’s supposed to be just us girls,” MK said.

“Should I paddle back?”

“No, I invited you and if Helen doesn’t like your company then it’s her loss. Now would you like a beer, wine, or a gin and tonic?”

“I didn’t realize there was a full bar out here. I didn’t bring any money.”

“I’ll put it on your tab.”

“Beer, please.”

MK fished a beer out of the floating cooler, twisted off the cap and handed it to Harry who again almost fell in.

“Easy there, fella.”

MK pointed to the floater next to her. She was an attractive woman in her fifties with black hair peppered through with grey. “This is my biggest sister, Eileen, and this,” she said pointing to the other woman, who looked a lot like MK except for the eyes, “is my next big sister, Vicky. Harry, these are the Keller girls.”

“Ladies,” Harry said, tipping an imaginary hat.

“So, you’re the new man next door?” Eileen said, eyeing Harry as if he was for sale. “You’ll do. How long you up fur?”

“Don’t know, really.”

“Harry’s a cop. He’s investigating the shooting,” MK said.

“I’m not a cop.”

“OK, but you’re like a cop. You’re doing cop stuff with Ed.”

“I never said that.”

“Oh, give me a break, Harry. This is like the first murder in forever. Ed doesn’t have time at the moment to take you to lunch for old times’ sake – you must be working on Big Bill’s murder.”

“I guess I must be. So, did you do it?”

MK laughed. “A floating interrogation? This must be a first.”

“I find if my suspects are in bathing suits then they often have little to hide.”

“Well in that case,” Vicky said suggestively, “I guess you would prefer if we were skinny floating.”

“Since this is my first float I think we had better keep our accoutrements on.”

“‘Accoutrements’,” Eileen sang. “MK, he’s a fancy one.”

“So, who do you think killed Big Bill?”

“Oh, don’t ask Eileen,” Vicky said, “she’ll just blame it on Frank.”

“Frank Thomson?” Harry turned to Eileen. “You think his brother shot him?”

“If there is evil in the world,” Eileen said, while somehow producing a dry cigarette and lighting it with a Zippo, “then Frank is involved.”

“Oh, don’t listen to her,” MK said. “Frank’s her ex. She’ll probably blame him for 9/11 if you ask.”

“I didn’t see him on that day. Did any of you?”

“Any other suspects you can think of?” Harry asked.

“How about Vicky?” Eileen said. “She used to sleep with him.”

“Shut up,” Vicky squealed, splashing her sister and extinguishing her cigarette.

This instigated a splashing session that threatened to once again capsize the only male of the group.

“You slept with all of the Thomson boys, didn’t you?” MK added.

“You shut up too. I never slept with Frank – yuck.”

“Stop, stop,” Harry pleaded. “Hold on – is there another Thomson boy?”

“Yeah, Jonny, he was the youngest.”

“Was?”

“Car accident – you know the purple hitch-hiker?”

Harry nodded.

“He was the driver that took the arm off.”

“Shame,” Vicky said. “He was a good kid. So was Big Bill. They were both just a bit wild – and that’s no lie – like they was raised by wolves. And we know they weren’t; they grew up next door to us.”

“Where was that?”

“Right here. You’re renting the old Thomson house. Frank’s your landlord. Didn’t you know that?”

“Ah no, I didn’t.”

“Well I’m goin’ in,” Eileen said. “Thanks to Vic’ I don’t have any dry ciggies.”

“Yeah I gotta go too. It’s clam night at the Hillside.”

“Who ya meeting?” MK asked as her sisters untied themselves from the anchor line.

“What makes you think I’m meeting anybody?” Vicky said.

“’Cause you’re you.”

The sisters produced little oars just like the one Helen had and paddled back to shore as they sing-sang in unison, “Have fun, MK.”

“So that’s the Keller Sisters?”

“We’re infamous in five states.”

“I can see why.”

“You want another beer?”

The sun was getting low in the sky and didn’t have the heat that Harry would have preferred, but the lake was so beautiful and the company so delightful, he had to say yes.

“So, do you have any theories on who killed him?”

“Oh, my god,” MK said, “this really is an interrogation.”

“No, well, sorry. It’s just I like your company and I’ll have to ask you sooner or later, so I thought I’d get it out of the way now.”

“Should I have a lawyer present?”

“Does your lawyer float?”

“Yeah that is a problem. To answer your question, no. Frank is a mean asshole but a killer – naaah.”

Harry took a swig of his beer, breathed in the pine-scented breeze and watched the sun dance on the rippling water. “You ever get tired of this?”

“No, that’s the magic of the place. It stays pretty wonderful. Sure, when I was a teenager, maybe, but that was when I hated everything. Once my brain started working again I saw this place for what it was.”

“A little corner of paradise,” Harry finished then added, “and that’s no lie.”

* * *

Back on shore MK asked Harry if he wanted to get clams at the Hillside but Harry confessed that Trooper Cirba and he had a date. He counter-proposed that if MK provided the charcoal he’d barbeque. MK offered her gas grill and Harry prepared a feast of burgers and potato chips.

MK took a bite of her cheeseburger and had to lean in over the picnic table to stop ketchup from falling down her front. She wiped her chin with a paper towel and said: “I’m not going to sleep with you, you know.”

Harry choked a little bit on his burger and had to swig some beer before he could reply. “Ah, OK.”

“Well, since you wanted to get the interrogation thing out of the way I thought I would just get that clear.”

“Right well, thank you, I think. Once again – was it something I said?”

“Oh, don’t take it personally, I just don’t sleep with renters. One of my rules.”

“It’s just as well, the bed in my room is unbelievably squeaky.”

“I know.”

“And how do you know that?”

“My sister, Vicky, has no problems sleeping with renters.” MK looked sideways at Harry and smiled. “You still have time to get to the Hillside for clam night.”

“Thank you but no. I’m very happy with the company right here.”

They clinked beer bottles.

“So is there a Mrs Cull?”

“Who is interrogating who? Should we get back out on the inflatables?”

“It’s just that now you know you have no chance with me, you can tell the truth.”

“Sounds logical. The answer is no.”

“An ex Mrs Cull?”

“Ah… yes.”

“And any little Cullettes?”

Harry paused and had to look away for a moment before answering, “No.”

“So what happened?”

Harry blew out a long sigh and said: “I didn’t live up to her expectations.”

“You cheated on her?”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re a man; it’s the law of probability.”

“No, I didn’t cheat on her. I – I don’t do that.”

“A man that doesn’t cheat. That makes you a rare breed.”

“It’s not that I don’t cheat… it’s more basic than that. I don’t lie. Or at least I try not to… at least Monday to Friday.”

“You only lie weekends?”

“Yes, and only to strangers.”

MK put down her burger and leaned in looking straight into Harry’s eyes. “You’re serious?”

“I am. Dealing with lies is my job. I’ve seen how much misery it brings to people so I just don’t do it.”

“So you never lie?”

“That is my goal.”

“So what if I asked you if my butt looked big in this outfit.”

“I’d probably say something like, ‘I think you would look good even if you wore a plastic garbage bag’.”

“But you didn’t answer the question.”

“Hey, just because I tell the truth doesn’t mean I go up to people and say, ‘I see you are forty pounds overweight and you buy your clothes at Kmart’.”

“But if I pressed you on it?”

“If you really want my opinion on the girth of your backside I’d tell you. I wouldn’t be doing you any favours if I said you had a nice ass when the whole world could see you looked like the back of a bus.”

MK stood, turned and then craned to see her posterior. “You think my ass looks like the back of a bus?”

“I was being hypothetical. But if you like I will give you a review of your south-facing view. Since you have pointed out that I am not going to be having any intimate knowledge of any of your body parts, you can be assured the critique will be honest.”

“No. If you’re not going to lie, I don’t want to know.”

“You sure? I can tell you now it’ll probably be quite favourable.”

“But that seems to me to be a tough code to live by. I don’t think I could do it.”

“Yes,” Harry said, “it’s not easy being me.”

“But you lie to strangers on weekends?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“As I told you, truth and lies are my job. If I know I’ll never see a person again and it won’t do any harm, I like to tell whoppers to strangers just to see how far I can push it.”

“Like what?”

“Let me see, I’ve told people that I’m a Puerto Rican Major League baseball player.”

MK laughed. “And they bought it?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“So it’s Friday night and you and Ed are going out. Are we going to be telling some porkies tonight?”

“I suspect so.”

“And where are you two going?”

“Just because I told you I won’t lie doesn’t mean I’m going to answer your questions.”

As if the invocation of his name made him appear, Ed, wearing a bright Hawaiian shirt, hollered a hello from the back deck and bounded down to the picnic table.

“Well, well,” MK purred, “lookie at Trooper Cirba in his civvies. What are you two up to tonight? Ohhh, I get it. It’s a boy’s trip to the strip club.”

“Did you tell her?” Cirba said.

“No,” Harry replied, “but you did just now.”

“It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes,” she said. “Everybody knows Big Bill was a regular. You boys just be careful, I get a bad feeling from that place.”

“You’ve been there?”

“No, but about three months ago, one of the girls that works there ploughed into my mailbox so hard the pole got stuck under her car and lifted one of the front wheels off the ground. She was stuck up there at three in the morning, gunning her engine and going nowhere. When I came out it was obvious she was high on something, and then some guy came round and told me to go back to bed. When I said I should call the police, he got all huffy and said he already did. Then that idiot Oaktree cop Barowski showed up.”

“Ice Lake is out of Barowski’s jurisdiction. What was he doing here?” Cirba said.

“I don’t know but it was late and he said he’d take care of it. Next day when I came home from work there was a lovely new mailbox with a bottle of champagne in it, so no harm no foul. It’s just that the man who showed up was… creepy, and Barowski acted – I don’t know – weird around him.”

“So that means you’re not coming with us?” Harry asked.

“Tempting but no. My butt is probably too big to be a stripper anyway.”

“Who said you had a big butt?” Cirba asked as MK walked up the lawn and into her house.

“Your friend, Harry. Behave yourselves in the Dew Drop, boys.”