Murder on the Thirteenth Read Free

after a moment.
    Tretheway shook his head. The wind picked up noticeably and blew clouds across the bright face of the moon. Behind them, the city still lay in enforced darkness.
    And then the light appeared again, this time a brighter, dancing flame that lasted a full minute. Then a wild flaring, a dimming, then gone again.
    â€œLet’s go,” Tretheway said.
    â€œRight.” Jake started back for the car.
    â€œWhere’re you going?” Tretheway asked.
    â€œYou said…”
    â€œThis way.” Tretheway started unsteadily down the embankment.
    â€œShouldn’t we phone, or something?”
    â€œNo time.”
    Jake followed his boss to the marsh’s edge.
    Tretheway tested the ice with his boot. “Should be all right,” he said.
    â€œBeen close to zero all week,” Jake said.
    Tretheway took three or four, then five tentative, sliding steps away from shore.
    â€œHow is it?” Jake asked.
    â€œC’mon.” Tretheway started carefully toward the island that was a good quarter mile away. Jake slithered after. The moon reappeared and lit the shimmering silver of the smooth ice that was not blanketed by snow. Walking through the snowy parts was relatively easy. It was the clear portions that gave them trouble. About halfway there on a section of glare ice, Tretheway took off. A gust of wind caught his bulk and he sped, without moving his feet, in the direction of the island. When he stretched out his arms instinctively for balance, his jumbo-sized greatcoat became a sail and his speed increased.
    â€œWait for me!” Jake shouted.
    Tretheway sailed before the wind, across the marsh as gracefully and efficiently as the Durham boats had done one hundred years before him. He had to fall. When Jake caught up to him, Tretheway was sitting heavily in the slight depression he had made in the ice.
    â€œOkay, Boss?” Jake asked.
    â€œGet me up.”
    With much grunting and cursing, but mainly with Jake’s help, Tretheway regained his feet.
    â€œCan you see anything now?” Tretheway winced.
    â€œI don’t think so,” Jake said. “Hard to tell. Shadows. Wind blowing the snow around. Did you hear anything?”
    Tretheway seemed surprised. “When?”
    â€œBefore,” Jake said. “When you were making your move.” Jake sensed Tretheway’s disapproving look.
    â€œWhat’d you hear?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Jake said. “Maybe a voice.”
    â€œProbably the wind.”
    â€œProbably.”
    The rest of the way was snow-covered and easier footing. At the island’s edge they slowed cautiously to a stop.
    Hickory Island was sixty feet long and about half as wide. Only a few spindly trees misshapen by decades of winds blowing across the open water and bunches of scraggly bushes existed on the hard-packed mound of earth. At no point was its elevation higher than ten feet. Some irregularly shaped rocks made an unnatural pile in the clearing at the island’s centre.
    â€œKeep your eyes open.” Tretheway took out his flashlight and started up the easy slope towards the rocks. Jake followed. Tretheway stopped suddenly and held Jake back with his outstretched arm.
    â€œLook.” Tretheway pointed his light on the ground.
    â€œSomeone’s made marks in the snow,” Jake said.
    â€œAnd then tried to cover it up.” Tretheway followed the half-obliterated line with his flashlight as best he could. It traced a large uneven shape around the pile of rocks.
    â€œA circle?” Jake asked.
    Tretheway nodded. “There’s more.” The light picked out several snow-scuffed areas. “Can you make anything out?”
    â€œNumbers. One, six. Is that a nine?”
    Tretheway brought the light closer. “I think so. And a two.”
    â€œWhat’s that mean?”
    â€œDon’t know.” Could be anything from a secret code to a date.”
    â€œLike