Death on the Lake by Jo Allen (rocket ebook reader txt) 📕

Death on the Lake

A DCI Satterthwaite mystery

Jo Allen

Also by Jo Allen

Death by Dark Waters

Death Eden’s End

Death on Coffin Lane

Death at Rainbow Cottage

Author Copyright: Jo Allen 2021

Cover Art: Mary Jayne Baker

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment and may not be resold or given away.

This story is a work of fiction. The characters are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Some of the locations used are real. Some are invented.

To Terry Lynn Thomas, as wonderfully supportive a writing friend as I could hope for. Thank you xx

Author’s Note

ll of the characters in this book are figments of my imagination and bear no resemblance to anyone alive or dead.

The same can’t be said for the locations. Many are real but others are not. I’ve taken several liberties with geography, mainly because I have a superstitious dread of setting a murder in a real building without the express permission of the homeowner, but also because I didn’t want to accidentally refer to a real character in a real place or property.

So, for example, you won’t find Jude’s home village of Wasby on the map; you will find the church at Martindale but not George’s cottage nearby; you’ll find Hallin Fell but you won’t be able to place the Neilsons’ property beside it; and so forth.

And although I’ve taken these liberties with the details I’ve tried to remain true to the overwhelming beauty of the Cumbrian landscape. I hope the many fans of the Lake District will understand, and can find it in their hearts to forgive me for these deliberate mistakes.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

More by Jo Allen

Acknowledgments

One

Ollie Neilson woke up groaning in the pool of sunlight that flowed through the cabin window and spilled over onto the bunk. Above the miasma of alcohol, the remnant buzz of a line of coke momentarily silenced him. He thought of Summer, rolled his naked body over and found the space beside him on the mattress empty.

She couldn’t have gone far. For a second he lay with his mind racing in awed respect for Summer’s body, the way she used it, the talent she deployed, the tricks she’d taught him. Freeing his tongue, which clung mustily to the roof of his mouth, he ran it round his lips again as his blood pulsed at the thought of what had passed. He was eighteen, rich and fancy free; he’d tasted heaven and was ready to taste it again.

The boat rocked as he rolled off the bunk and got to his feet. Or maybe it wasn’t the boat. The sunlight had been the herald of a still, perfect May afternoon and the only thing to disturb them had been the gentle wash of the Ullswater steamer as it forged its way to Patterdale.

Hopefully none of the passengers had had a long lens on their camera — or rather, hopefully none of them knew who he was and thought it would be a prank to send pictures to his father. If they did that, he might have to re-evaluate the afternoon’s activities. But even as he thought about it, even as he steadied himself with a hand against the bulkhead, his feet braced slightly apart, he knew that Robert Neilson’s anger, though fierce, would be temporary; and the pleasure Ollie had had from Summer would live with him for a long, long time.

If there were pictures, though. He smirked. His mates would think a lot of him then. Him and Will. There was a bit of him wouldn’t mind if there were pictures, as long as only the right people saw them.

Focussing, he managed a look around. The cabin looked as if it had hosted an all-night party. Half a dozen empty beer bottles and one still with a sad half-inch of vodka lay on the floor, rebuking him. Any unsteadiness was his and his alone, and the Seven of Swords rested too gently on the lake to disturb them.

Ollie looked further. Clothes — his, Summer’s and Will’s — lay strewn across the cabin floor. In a half-hearted attempt at restoring the damage before his stepmother got home, he picked up a pair of jeans and shook them into some sort of order. Summer’s panties dropped from them and he made a half-hearted snatch, but the legacy of his overindulgence was too much, and they fell to the floor.

Bending down to pick them up wasn’t such a good idea, and the scrap of pale gold nylon only reminded him that however fragile his head was feeling, everything below the waist was in enthusiastic fettle. He picked his way to the ladder that linked the cabin to the deck four feet above and heaved himself into the sunlight, where Will sprawled naked over the deck. Ollie grinned. At least he’d managed to fall comatose somewhere in the shade and wasn’t going to suffer as his twin would, with a bad-tempered slash of sunburn flaming across the tender skin on the back of his neck. No doubt when Will came round he’d have the same thought that Ollie himself had had, and once Summer woke up no doubt they’d start all over again.

It was Will’s turn first, though. They shared everything, and they did it fairly. Summer needn’t be any different.

He hauled himself up over the last rung of the ladder, stretching in the sunlight, stirring his brother with his foot. ‘Okay, Willie, boy. Are you up for more? What have you done with her?’

A yawn, a groan to match Ollie’s own of a moment earlier, and Will resurfaced in the land of the living. ‘Oh God. Oh my God.’ He paused, shook