Ice Lake Read Online Free

punches. “Listen. I was out here fishing. A woman screamed. We went over. We found a body in the water under the floorboards. I buzzed the cops. I’m a citizen. What’s your problem with that?” If the local chief wanted to get under his skin, he was making good progress.
“You’re right, I was on the force, so I know how assholes like you operate,” the chief threw back at him, ignoring his question. “Every word you speak is two parts bullshit to one part jam. You’re spreading it right now.”
Cinq-Mars stared down the prodigious slope of his nose at this poor excuse for a civil servant. He’d seen much worse, but when men brought their pathetic grudges and grievances to the job, to any job, he felt no compassion. Ages ago he had given up trying to disguise that stance, and while he understood that cops were envious of him, he had ceased to care. “Sorry to interrupt your Sunday nap, Chief. I guess you can’t function with the Super Bowl behind us. Why don’t you just call the SQ before the body goes smelly.”
“Wiseass. I’ll make that call.” Under his overcoat he wore a policeman’s leather bomber jacket, and under that a microphone pinned to his shirt. He tapped it and called his station, his voice relayed through the transmitter in his cruiser. He informed his subordinate to forward the news to the SQ.
Finally, the chief bent to his knees and leaned over the hole. He pulled the deceased’s head up by the hair and studied the face.
“He’s thawing,” Mathers noticed.
“What?”
“When I first looked at him, the face seemed morefrozen than that. Ice was poking out the nostrils. Not now. Maybe it’s the warmth of the cabin.”
“You got no jurisdiction here,” the chief reminded them both. “Why don’t you both buzz off?”
Cinq-Mars nodded. “I’m on my way.”
“But not too far. Don’t leave the lake until the SQ gets a crack at you.”
Cinq-Mars left and marched briskly through the snow to his rental hut. He looked neither left nor right, and failed to acknowledge the questions of those on the ice awaiting news. Mathers raced to catch up, fearing that the door might slam in his face if he didn’t duck inside soon enough.
“Do we stick around like he said?” Mathers asked in the cabin. A superior’s command carried little weight with his partner. That the superior in this case came from another force made that order irrelevant.
Pacing the small quarters, Cinq-Mars considered what to do. He would have preferred to send Mathers home, except they had only one vehicle between them. “Bill, we stay. It’ll be an education. Take notes on how the SQ botch things this time.” He paused, and eyed his partner closely. When he spoke again he had lowered his voice. “There’s something you should know, partner. Friday, I received a call. I was advised to rent a fishing shack on this lake this morning and wait for a visit. Someone with information to peddle. A woman’s voice, that’s all I know. Whoever called knows I fish here on occasion, and that was enough to arouse my curiosity. I didn’t tell you for a couple of reasons. First off, it was liable to be a wild-gooser. I didn’t want to get you excited for nothing—I wanted you to concentrate on fishing. Besides that, I gave my word not to tell. Point is, we have to hang out to see if my contact shows. If she does, after all this mess, that’ll be good. If not, at least we can say it’s been an eventful afternoon.”
“Maybe you’ve received your information.”
“Meaning?”
Bill Mathers motioned in the direction of the crime scene.
“That I don’t know,” Cinq-Mars admitted.
“I’ll stay on one condition,” Mathers negotiated.
“What’s that?”
“No more bloody fishing. I’ve hooked my last minnow.”
Lucy Gabriel was waiting outside in the freezing cold, her neck tucked deep into her collar, when her friend returned. He was no longer quite so calm and collected.
“What’s up?” she asked him.
“Something’s