Ice Lake: A gripping crime debut that keeps you guessing until the final page. John Lenahan A
you call me. When the phone rings in the night it drives my wife loopy. Well loopier. Especially when the answer’s in here.”
“I’ll study it thoroughly.”
“Oh, if all my renters were as good as you, my life would be harmonious – and that’s no lie. I’ll leave you to your view.”
Harry walked him to the door.
As he was getting into the car he called back, “Feel free to call me if you need anything.”
“As long as it’s not in the folder,” Harry said.
Charlie touched his nose and then pointed with a smile.
* * *
Harry had a good snoop around his new abode. The bedroom was down a hallway from the living area. It was a pleasant size and featured a brass bed that was a bit softer and definitely squeakier than he liked. No matter, Harry thought with a sigh, it’s not like I’m going to be disturbing the neighbours with any extra-curricular bedspring squeaking.
In the kitchen Harry found an old teapot high on a shelf. The owners had probably only bought it as an ornament but as Harry’s old Irish mother always said: “A home’s not a home unless it has a hot teapot in it.”
He set water to boil and cleaned off the years of dust from the pot. Then just as his mother had taught him, he warmed it with boiling water and added three tea bags and just-boiled water. Then he wrapped the pot with a tea towel to keep it warm and set up a tray with a cup, a little milk pitcher, and some of old Todd’s cookies.
He carried it all outside, left it on the picnic table to brew up strong like he liked it and approached the water’s edge. It really was, as Trooper Cirba had said, “a little corner of paradise”. At less than two miles around you could almost see the whole lake from where he stood. To his right a light breeze danced on the water making the sunlight sparkle on the surface. To the left the lake thinned and dog-legged around a corner. There it was darker and less inviting, hemmed in by knurled trees and water filled with dark green lily pads. Harry could make out ducks in the distance and then a little splash at his feet brought his attention to several small fish swimming in the crystal-clear water. He couldn’t resist kicking off his shoes, rolling up his trouser legs and dipping his toes in. The water from the underground springs that fed the lake was initially freezing but it didn’t take long to get used to it. The little fish who moments before had been scared away came back to see what the white monoliths were. One even kissed at his toes like in one of those fancy fish pedicure places.
Harry returned to his tea. As he poured he asked himself the question that almost everyone who rents a house at Ice Lake asks – “Why do I live in the city?”
“Gosh, I don’t think I have ever had a neighbour who serves himself high tea,” said a voice from behind him.
Harry was initially annoyed at the intrusion on his solitude, but that was before he turned and saw the gorgeous, thirtyish, brunette standing behind him wearing a pink scrub top and white nurse’s trousers.
“Hi,” Harry said trying to free himself from the picnic table. “Can I get you a cup?”
“No, thank you.”
“How about a Milano cookie?”
She laughed and her little turned-up nose crinkled in a way that Harry thought was the cutest thing he had ever seen.
“Ah, I see you’ve been shopping at our local superstore.”
“Yes indeed. Would you like a Spam sandwich, Miss?”
She predictably shook her head, extended her hand and said: “I’m Meredith Keller but everyone calls me MK.”
“I’m Harry. Harry Cull. It is a pleasure to meet you Nurse or Doctor Keller?”
“Actually I’m a stripagram. I have an unusual midweek lunchtime bachelor party today.”
“Well, he’s a lucky groom.”
She smiled and it was very nice.
Harry’s sliding doors opened and out popped the six-and-a-half-foot form of Ed Cirba. He wore the full Pennsylvania State Police uniform: the black boots, the light grey shirt with a black tie and black epaulettes, the dark grey trousers with a black stripe running along the outside edge were held up by a black belt clipped to a four-inch-thick utility belt sporting a black holster containing a .45-calibre pistol. Also hanging from the belt were handcuffs, expandable baton, a walkie-talkie, and two leather cases, one holding a flashlight, the other pepper spray. On top of all this was his twelve-inch diameter wide-brimmed hat, just like the one Ranger Smith wore in the Yogi Bear cartoons. Cirba was an impressive human being in civvies but, in uniform, he was downright intimidating.
“There you are,” he shouted.
Cirba bounded down to the high tea in less than four strides and said: “Mr Cull, it’s good to see you again.” He shook Harry’s hand and then drew him into an all-engulfing bear hug. “And hello, MK.”
“Hiya, Ed,” she said standing on tiptoe to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“I take it you know each other?”
“MK’s an emergency room nurse at Wilkes Barrie County Hospital. We see each other often but not usually under such pleasant circumstances.”
Harry stepped back and admired the trooper and the nurse. “You know if I could find an Indian chief outfit, I’m sure we could win a Halloween competition somewhere.”
“As tempting as that sounds I have to go to work,” MK said. “But it’s just a half shift. Me and the girls are floating tonight about 5.30. We don’t usually allow boys, but I think we could make an exception for you two.”
“I can guarantee that Mrs Cirba won’t give me time off to float but I will try to get Harry back for it.”
“Good,” MK said as she walked back into the house next to Harry’s, “I’ll see you then. See ya later, Ed.”
“What’s floating?” Harry asked the trooper.
“Trust me, you’ll love it.” Ed took a cookie from the tray. “You settled in?”
“No.”
“Good, I’ll take you to the Horseshoe.”
“Is that a place for lunch?”
“No, that’s the murder scene.”
If you turn right out of the lake and head east for five miles, you come to Ice Lake’s nearest town – Oaktree, PA. The Lakers call that stretch the Five Mile Road. If you go left to St Elizabeth’s, that road is called the Seven Mile Road. Collectively both roads are known as the Thirteen Mile Road. No one knows where the extra mile comes from. It’s a Pocono mystery.
Cirba drove Harry to the site of the other Pocono mystery. About two miles along the Five Mile Road they pulled left onto a gravel slip known as the Horseshoe. Its name refers to the fact that the road simply goes into the woods and comes out again in a semicircle. After five hundred yards Harry could see the police tape and another squad car in the distance. The young statie in the car was obviously asleep with his head back and his mouth open. That’s what it initially looked like but then Harry felt a horrible lurch in his stomach as the idea came to him that maybe he had been shot. The feeling didn’t last long. The young trooper snapped awake as they drew closer to the car.
The cop popped out of his vehicle and tried not to look as if he had just woken up. Cirba met him and tried to pretend he hadn’t seen him asleep. He was a cadet and had been on the overnight watch at the scene. Cirba sent him home and then started pulling the police tape off the trees.
“Is