Page 33 of The Boathouse By the Loch

‘Dead?’

‘Very. Suicide.’ Mr Gillespie put two fingers to his temple. ‘Bullet right here.’

Jake was, quite frankly, astounded; how could he not know this?

‘It was in the spring,’ Mr Gillespie continued. ‘Some walkers found him, raised the alarm. It was suicide, plain and simple. Only thing they couldn’t figure was why he was wearing skiing gear. If that was what his intention was, then why did he go to the bother of taking his skis?’

‘Perhaps he was just having one last ski for old times’ sake,’ Jake said in a small voice.

‘Perhaps. In any case, they confirmed the time of death. Puts him right there that day.’

Jake stared at Mr Gillespie, taking all this in.

‘They found his car at a little-used Forestry Commission car park. Hell of a hike from there to the ski runs.’

Jake didn’t think so; perhaps he wanted some peace and quiet, some solitude, before he departed the world. Jake had thought about it often enough – in the beginning. A person could do the craziest things, if they were pushed. A person could lose all rational thought and do a thing no sane person would even contemplate. Jake’s hands closed around the sledgehammer.

‘But you know what the craziest part was?’

Jake shook his head.

‘He’d gone and bought a ticket, a car parking ticket out of the machine. That’s how they could pinpoint the exact date and time of death, because those things are dated and time-stamped. Now, tell me,’ he paused, staring at Jake intently, ‘does that sound like a man intent on taking his own life?’

Jake didn’t know what to say.

‘Of course, us locals put two and two together; your skiing accident was most likely caused by the sound of gunfire dislodging the snow, but it wasn’t a matter for the police. There was no crime committed there. It wasn’t as though hewas shooting at you.’

Jake stirred uneasily.

‘As I said, an unfortunate set of circumstances. If he’d been there any other day, then who knows? Perhaps …’ he trailed off.

Perhaps the accident would never have happened, thought Jake.

‘Who was he?’ Jake wanted to know the name of this man who had taken not one, but two lives that Christmas.

Mr Gillespie thought hard. ‘I don’t recall … but my son might remember.’

‘David?’

‘Yes, I’ll be sure to tell him to stop by on the way to his next delivery – The Lake House, wasn’t it?’

‘No.’ Jake hesitated. ‘I’m staying at Lark Lodge, actually.’

Mr Gillespie nodded solemnly. ‘I understand.’

Jake doubted that he did. He thanked Mr Gillespie.

‘Call me Duncan.’

Jake nodded and turned to go. Then he had a thought. ‘Duncan … you don’t have to worry about asking David to stop by Lark Lodge. He’ll be there later. But he said he’d be in The Winky this evening, so I’ll expect I’ll see him there first.’

‘What do you mean – he’ll be back there?’ Duncan frowned. ‘He hasn’t got any deliveries at Lark Lodge today.’

‘Well, no. He’s staying at the lodge.’ Jake realised he’d put his foot in it. David and Robyn’s relationship was none of his business, but now he had to tell Duncan something was up. Or perhaps he didn’t have to. ‘Look, it sounds like David is stopping at Gayle’swhile Robyn is in London.’

Duncan’s frown deepened. ‘What do you mean – stopping at Gayle’s?’

‘You know, he’s taken a room.’

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