4.5★
“Hirsch halted, his heart racing. Mapped out his next few seconds: three or four running steps to the closest fence post, right hand on top of it for leverage, a clean vault over into the paddock and then a racing zigzag across it… “
Day’s end, indeed. Hirsch’s days don’t end – he just forces himself to switch off until the phone rings in the middle of what passes for dinner or what passes for a good night’s sleep, demanding he come immediately.
As a country cop, demoted under a cloud (not his fault) some years earlier, Paul Hirschhausen is the only police officer in an area “the size of Belgium” north of Adelaide, South Australia. It’s a wonder his day ever ends.
“Out in that country, if you owned a sheep station the size of a European principality you stood tall. If you were a rent-paying public servant, like Hirsch, you stood on the summit of Desolation Hill.”
Investigating the disappearance of a 21-year-old European backpacker, Hirsch goes with the man’s mother to one such station, Dryden Downs, where Willi had last worked. There is a new sign on the gate.
“Unvaccinated visitors welcome here, and, in smaller type, We refuse to enforce unlawful directions from a government that would microchip its people.”
Another challenge for Hirsch. Disher doesn’t dwell on Covid, but he occasionally refers to someone smiling over their mask. It’s just another source of pressure on the subterranean unrest that is beginning to burble out from dangerous revolutionary chat rooms and into real life in small country towns, not just in big cities.
Sam Dryden greets Hirsch and Willi’s mother cordially, but it’s obvious that wife Mia is less restrained.
“Where her husband’s energy lay coiled, hers vibrated. Her eyes were bright; her teeth flashed; she was a ripple of movement; her words poured out as she skipped up the steps in an eddy of hot-day and horse-riding odours.
No, they have had no word since Willi left – with a new girlfriend – a few months ago, except for a postcard from Noosa, Qld (beach resort area, for non-Aussie readers). Kids? What are you going to do, eh? Probably just want to see the world.
Kids indeed. Hirsch’s partner Wendy teaches at the local high school and lives with her daughter, Kate, who is changing from the clever, affectionate kid who likes to tease Hirsch to a sometimes glum, troubled teen. She’s getting abusive texts, some of which seem to be connected to other delinquent activities in Tiverton.
Racist vandalism, Covid, drugs, online scams, and the usual drunks. What next? Next, who should arrive but some federal heavies who seem to be leaving Hirsch out of what looks like being a very Big Picture indeed.
Hirsch carries on, pinning a note on the police station door and packing his lunch as he makes his very long rounds, checking in on all of the outlying people he feels responsible for. There’s nothing quite like a corrugated rural road.
“Drive too slowly on these roads and your teeth shook out; too quickly and you might lose traction on a curve, roll your vehicle, lie pinned in the wreckage for hours, even days, before another vehicle happened along. You needed skill with a dash of nonchalance. Hirsch had been making these back-country ventures for three years now and was getting better at it.”
Not all properties are big stations like Dryden Downs of course.
“Weeds thrived in the drooping veranda gutter and choked the surviving shrubs and rosebushes. Lichen bloomed on the rust-fringed corrugated iron of the roof. Cobwebs hung from the eaves. A listing grey VW diesel van was parked in the driveway and a car rested on blocks on the front lawn.
. . .
Hirsch parked beside a defeated-looking wrought-iron gate in a low, collapsing wall…”
There is one absolutely horrific incident at this place, which leaves Hirsch (and readers) badly shaken. We expect far too much from our police. It is way too hard. His sergeant, who wasn’t there at the time, is also disturbed.
“Looking careworn again, Brandl said, ‘All right—but what a mess on top of everything else.’ She shook herself back into the shape of an officer in charge.”
I don’t even know how you’d do that. I’d be bent completely out of shape.
I always love Disher’s writing style, and I admire how he manages to incorporate current controversial issues (Covid, racism, politics) into a story with a light enough touch that we never forget the people and where they are – rural South Australia.
I have read the previous three books in this series, but I think I would have enjoyed this one even on its own.
Thanks to NetGalley and Text Publishing for the review copy from which I’ve quoted.