Arthur Upfield: Death of a Lake

“MacLennon,” sighed Carney, and Lester sniffled twice.

“The fourth man there that night? Was it you. Martyr?”

“Yes. I was keeping watch from the creek bank.”

“Who prepared Gillen’s bike for a get-away?”

“I did,” Carney said. “I was fed up with the place and all. Then I thought how silly I’d be.”

“You would have been, and it would not have been like you. And had you attempted to ride away after I came here, you would have found that the carburettor had been removed. We won’t say anything more about Gillen’s motor-cycle and, unless the matter crops up, we’ll say nothing of the accidental discharge of the shot-gun, Mr Martyr. What did happen that night?”

“The women had been nagging each other for days, and I ought to have anticipated a showdown,” Martyr replied. “The gun was kept on the wall in the hall, and cartridges are about anywhere. I was in my room, and I heard them arguing. A moment or two later, I heard the gun-breech snapped shut. It was a sound I couldn’t mistake, and I raced to Joan’s room and was just in time to push up the barrel of the gun as the mother pulled the trigger. I didn’t make a song and dance about it, Inspector, as it would have spoiled my star act.”

“Yes, it would have been an anticlimax,” agreed Bony. He gripped Lester’s forearm. “Now, Bob, you cannot gossip without stones crashing through your windows. Remember, you have lived in a glass house. Imagine giving a woman a brooch worth?120 merely on a promise. Imagine what people would say. It made the gamble frightfully expensive, didn’t it?”

“Yair, I suppose it did.” Lester forgot to sniffle, but he did chuckle. “Still, if a bloke never gambles, he can’t ever win, can he?”

“That’s quite true, Bob,” agreed Bony, smiling. “Yet when it comes to gambling on a woman, no man can win… ever. Now I must go. Aurevoir, and grand luck for you all. Should you be here at the time, let me know when Lake Otway is born again.”