The Drowned Canoe: Darkwater Lake Prequel Novella

By Tannis Laidlaw

A barking puppy
A waterlogged canoe
And a very dead man

All Jodie Hill craves is the rustic calm of her remote cottage so she can finish a thesis she’s been working on for four long years. What she gets instead is the mystery of a murdered corpse drifting in a battered canoe across the late afternoon waters of Darkwater Lake, accompanied only by a frantically barking puppy.

The dead man owns a nearby fishing camp. The tight-knit group of young men staying there offer theories of what happened which are more convoluted than the zigzagging lake shoreline. Yet to Jodie, their stories, which grow more far-fetched as secrets are revealed, mark them as prime suspects.

This gripping prequel kicks off the beloved Darkwater Lake series, plunging you into Jodie’s world filled with suspense, intrigue, and stunning descriptions of Canada's beautiful and remote wilderness. It will keep you on the edge of your seat until the very last page. Get your copy of the book now!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tannis Laidlaw
• Release date: Jan 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215396575

Tannis Laidlaw

Tannis has worn many hats: occupational therapist in her early days, psychologist, university researcher and lecturer at various universities and medical schools and now author. She's written many first drafts which are safely stored on her hard drive (perhaps, one day, to be revised...) but she has published four novels and two books of short stories. Two of the novels are in paperback as well as ebook format. She lives with her husband in various places: two homes in New Zealand - a town house in Auckland and an adobe beach house on an isolated bay in Northland - and, to take full advantage of the northern summer, a tiny summer cottage (off the grid and boat-access only) on a remote lake in North-western Ontario in Canada. All are places perfect for writing.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Jodie hardly registered she’d cleared the city, the suburbs and the farmland north of Toronto. She barely noticed she’d entered the realm of the dark woodlands of the northern lakes in the Canadian Shield not, at least, until she breasted the hill which suddenly displayed Darkwater Lake below, stretching towards the distant horizon. Darkwater Lake, with its complexity of islands, bays, channels, subsidiary lakes and rivers. The place where she grew up every summer of her childhood and where she hoped to find some inner tranquillity now. She gripped the steering wheel tightly as she followed the road down to the shore.

The lake. Where she’d found peace growing up. Where she wanted – no, needed – to find peace now.

She parked outside the supermarket in the little town of Darkwater huddled at the foot of the hill she’d just driven down. She only needed to buy perishables. Her insulated bag was already cold from the freezer pads she’d put inside when she left the city.

Less than ten minutes later with her shopping completed, she pulled into Larry’s marina and found a parking spot not too far from the dock. She did not want to talk to a soul, not even lovable Larry, but ignoring him was impossible.

A big bear of a man with long grey ringlets pulled back in a queue classifying him as the old hippie he was, Larry was a long-standing family friend. He walked over to where she was unloading her car. She conjured up a smile. Larry, how lovely to see you.

He smiled broadly. My goodness, it’s been years, young Jodie. How are you doing?

So, so, she said, trusting her smile made it seem less serious than it was. She hoped he wouldn’t ask about Jérôme or even Luc, their twelve-year old son. She just wasn’t up to explanations, and she could never lie to Larry. I’ve got my thesis to write for university. I couldn’t think of a better place than at the cottage. True, as far as it went.

You’re probably right about that, he said. Here, let me help you with all this gear. Did you notice the storm?

No.... She glanced at the sky and the blue-grey clouds looming in the west. Got it. Yes, thanks. I’d better get the boat loaded ASAP.

You’ve got half an hour or so. Besides, I’ll give you a hand. Good old Larry. He was a dear.

By the time they’d loaded up her mother’s boat, she’d been told how he’d organised their dock to be dragged from its winter storage and bolted in place; how the second-hand generator she needed was already sitting on her dock and waiting to be installed and how he’d come out tomorrow, late morning, to do so. He started asking questions about her mother but, before he could settle in for a good gossip, she reminded him of the coming storm by waving her hand to the west.

Sorry, got carried away. Forgetting you have to get this boat unloaded when you get to your place. Lovely Larry, so kind to both her mother and her over the years.

She touched his forearm, guilt pricking her conscience. Sorry, old friend. I’m frazzled and stupidly weary. How about you time your arrival at the cottage for tomorrow noon, weather permitting, she said. I’ve picked up some fresh rolls and I can make some soup for lunch. How does that sound?

His face brightened. Sounds like a plan, he said. Now you don’t do too much today, will you, Jodie. Rest up and let Darkwater work its magic. And we’ll get that generator ready for whatever you want it for. Lights? An electric fridge?

She gave him a genuine smile this time as she hopped into the boat. Nothing so major. I just need to keep a battery charged, she said, for my laptop computer. That’s all.

A long low roll of thunder rolled across the lake. Seconds later, another one, ending in a loud clap.

That’s it. I’m off. See you tomorrow, Jodie said, starting the engine which roared into life. She waved and manoeuvred slowly from the dock until she was safely away from the marina and gradually opened the throttle until the boat came up on the plane and launched itself across the lake towards the family cottage. In spite of her warm feelings towards Larry, she was relieved to be on her way, nodding her thanks to the dark clouds. The weather always dictates things at Darkwater, as it was doing now. She reminded herself not to take out her grumpiness on other people, especially Larry.

Still, the fewer people she needed to talk to, the better.

She’d had every confidence the dock would be secure and ready to use, given Larry always made sure everything was in tiptop order. She waved at him again with another more or less genuine smile before he was out of sight.

As she sped over the lake, the waves slap, slap, slapping against the hull of her boat in that well-remembered fashion and the clouds now starting to look more a flat silver than blue-grey and this presaging rain, she could feel her mood lift a notch. Not enough to want to see another human being but at least to be looking forward to opening up the old cottage, breathing in its unique smells and hearing the silence.

Chapter 2

Jodie spotted the generator as soon as she rounded the last corner. It was hard to miss given its road-worker yellow paint job. But. It was a big ‘but’. Something that big seemed overkill given she only wanted it to charge the marine battery now and again. Was it one of those machines which made a deafening noise? She sighed. Why was life so difficult?

Still, if it worked – and Larry said it did – and only a quarter of the price of a new one so it was well within budget, she shouldn’t complain. Or maybe she could; she didn’t want life to degenerate any more than it had.

She tied up the boat at her floating dock and started to unload. She wanted to get the propane fridge on as soon as possible. The day was still bright – close to the summer solstice as they were, the daylight hours were long and still getting longer – but the afternoon was finishing and the temperature was starting to fall, to say nothing of the coming rain.

As expected, the cottage smelled of her childhood and she genuinely felt her spirits lift as she walked around inside picking up the mouse poison and hiding it away in the crawlspace above the dining room where, if any mice decided to camp out up there, an enticing poisonous meal awaited them. And the poison needed to be kept well away if anybody brought small children or dogs into her cottage.

She frowned. She didn’t want any kids or dogs around much less their parents or owners.

Why was she fussing about dogs, for heaven’s sake?

She knew why suddenly. She’d heard a bark. Not close. But definitely a dog. She sighed again. There were few other cottages nearby and none occupied in June. As she came across the lake, she did see someone had built a new log cabin on the Appleby’s island. Who would that be? She remembered the old man from when she was a child. And the old man’s grandson who was close to her age. A bit full of himself, that one. But surely the old man couldn’t still be alive. And, if not, the grandson would have inherited. Nobody else ever came to their cottage. But she had seen a new log cabin on the island, albeit at the opposite end from the old cottage. She shrugged. People. She was definitely off people. Curious people. Sympathetic people. Anybody. Including her relatives.

The dog barked again. She ignored it. She had things to put away, the fridge to start cooling down and she had that damned soup to make. Maybe cook up enough for lunch tomorrow plus a serving for her dinner tonight. Yes.

An hour later and she had the cranky old propane fridge humming, thank goodness. By morning, she’d be able to take the food out of the cooler and into a cold fridge. Luckily her mother had left her with a full tank of lake water which the cottage uses for washing dishes, hands and anything that needs water other than drinking. They use bottled water for that. Easier than worrying about sterilising the lake water to a potable standard.

The thunder was getting louder. Jodie stood still and watched the dark clouds. Yes. A flash. And another one. The rain wouldn’t be long now.

She glanced down to the dock. That huge yellow generator. The more she looked at it, the more she thought it was total overkill. And she hated the noise a generator made. Why so big? Larry had mentioned a whole household of things that this generator could run like lights, fridges, whatever.

Oh.

She’d invited Larry for lunch tomorrow. She stood with her eyes closed and breathed deeply for a minute or more. Letting the sounds of the little waves splashing on the rocky shore sooth her inner agitation. Okay. Soup for an early supper with plenty for tomorrow when Larry arrived. Bummer, her mind was going round and round. As the rain started its finger tapping noise on the roof, she summoned the energy to cook up a potato and leek (oops, no leeks so she had to make do with onions) soup.

Men loved her potato and leek soup ... well, her men, Jérôme and Luc. And that thought spiralled her mood back down again. So she concentrated on Luc. He would be here at the lake in a week or so. She’d have to focus on things a twelve-year-old liked to do all that week, which meant she’d better get going on her thesis write-up so she could enjoy her time with her son with a clear conscience. She had a deadline to get the wretched thing submitted.

Food.

Half an hour later, she was sitting down to trial run the soup. It passed muster, especially eaten with one of the ciabatta rolls she’d picked up at the supermarket in town stuffed with mayo and hardboiled egg. It made a satisfying meal while the thunder rumbled and the rain gathered strength.

After dinner when she was washing up, the rain eased. Was that the bark of a dog again? Whose cottage had a dog? Or could it be a wild dog? Her mother had told her a family story about the time a husky had arrived at their cottage when she’d been a child. Several porcupine quills were protruding from the dog’s sensitive nose testifying to an encounter the dog would have regretted.

Her father, Jodie’s grandfather, had cautiously approached the dog, wondering if it had sought out a human deliberately. He warily approached it for this was a half wild beast at best. It had been a tradition for the native tribe to set out and monitor trap lines during the winter using dog teams and sleighs. They turned the dogs loose for the summertime where they lived much as the native wolves live, catching hares and other wildlife for food. The dogs would appear back home when the snow started to fly, to resume the life of a working dog over the winter, but a life where they were fed and sheltered from the frigid conditions wild animals faced.

This dog had waited stoically while Jodie’s grandpa snipped the quills leaving just enough showing so he could use pliers to draw out each quill. It must have been an extremely painful procedure for the dog. Once the last quill had been removed, her grandpa had stood up and the husky had run off back into the woods.

Jodie peered out the window. Could she see something out in the middle of the lake? She was bothered enough to grab the binocs. Was something out there? If so, she was not sure what it was. The barking. Maybe from whatever it was on the lake? The wind had died; the clouds had cleared away and the late sun was golden. What about taking the canoe out? It was most likely someone lazing on a paddle board but a little paddle in her canoe would soothe the soul.

She tugged the canoe out from its storage spot under the floor of the porch and dragged it down to the water’s edge. She paddled towards the smudge she could see a