Read Online Murder on the Lake by Bruce Beckham - Free Book Online

have
commandeered the room – with its burnished log-fired Aga by some
degree the warmest in the draught-ridden house – for a rather
unconventional exchange of information.  But at this moment it is an
expression of relief that is fleetingly traded between Skelgill’s subordinates.
    ‘Leyton
– that wasn’t a hurricane – it wasn’t even above force eight
hereabouts.’
    DS
Leyton shrugs, as though the distinction is academic.
    ‘All
the same, Guv – what with the boat having all your gear on board.’
    ‘So
what did you do?’
    ‘I
phoned your mountain rescue team – to get their boat out as soon as. 
By luck the chap that answered was your pal Woody who you were supposed to meet
in the pub last night.’
    Skelgill,
who has been furnished – to follow up several rounds of toast and honey
– with a bacon sandwich and a second mug of tea, chews and slurps and
nods and indicates that DS Leyton should continue.
    ‘He
knew you’d be fishing down this end of the lake – he reckoned if you had fallen
overboard and survived then you’d be stranded on an island – because if
you’d swum to the shore you’d have got help from a farm or hotel.’
    ‘So
you came straight here?’
    ‘More
or less.’  DS Leyton grins sheepishly.  ‘You know me, Guv – any
longer on one of those boats they had out looking for you and I’d have been
proper tom and dick.  Ground bait, I believe you fishermen call it.’
    Skelgill’s
countenance is beginning to suggest a degree of disapproval.  At the best
of times, expressing gratitude to his subordinates is not one of his strong
suits.  Evidently, now, the notion that he – one of Lakeland’s most
experienced anglers and boatmen – might have got into trouble does not
sit comfortably with him.  And perhaps the knowledge of what actually did
occur gives him an unreasonably biased perspective.  Notwithstanding, on
the basis of limited information, his deputies could be excused for thinking
they had seen him alive for the last time.
    ‘It
was just precautionary, Guv.’  DS Jones intervenes soothingly.  ‘We
guessed you’d be fine – but the Chief was down on us like a ton of bricks
wanting to know what action plan we’d implemented.’
    Skelgill
scowls rather ungratefully.
    ‘Why’s she getting her knickers in a twist?’
    DS
Jones patiently brushes a strand of hair from her face.
    ‘I
think she mentioned something about a valuable senior officer, Guv.’
    ‘Miracles
never cease.’
    Now DS
Leyton clears his throat.
    ‘But since
you’re safe she wants a report by ten, Guv – before any of this leaks out
and awkward questions start being asked.’
    Skelgill
makes an ironic hissing sound.
    ‘Cancel
the miracle.’
    DS
Leyton shakes his head and chuckles.
    ‘So,
Guv – if you weren’t pulled overboard fighting a giant sturgeon –
what did happen?’
    Skelgill
again scowls.
    ‘Shove
over that teapot, Leyton.’  He tops up his mug and stirs in several spoons
of sugar.  ‘We don’t have wild sturgeon in Britain.  It was a pike I
was after.  I’ve bet Woody I’ll have a twenty-five pounder out of Derwentwater
before the month’s up.’
    ‘So
you’re running short of time, Guv – how much did you bet?’
    ‘It’s
not the amount, it’s the odds, Leyton.’  For a moment he appears unwilling
to expand upon the details of the wager, but then he relents.  ‘Tenner
– at a hundred to one.’
    ‘Cor
blimey, Guv – you’re talking a grand.’
    ‘Aye,
well – the ale was talking a grand.’
    DS
Leyton vigorously scratches his head, as though it might help to free up an
idea.  He appears perturbed by his boss’s costly predicament.
    ‘Can’t
you catch one out of your regular lake, Guv?  Ship it over?’
    ‘A
bet’s a bet, Leyton.’
    Skelgill’s
features are set uncompromisingly.  However, with the deadline only four
days away, the suggestion of a Bassenthwaite Lake ringer must have growing
appeal, and perhaps there is the faintest