‘We’ll need better than that. He’s swearing black and blue he didn’t shoot them. Is the girl credible? It was night, she was scared, a lot happening…’

‘She’s credible.’

They both glanced at Louise, who still sat on the veranda looking up at the detective questioning her, Craig Washburn’s arm around her shoulders. Brandl swung back to Hirsch. ‘It’ll be good when we get her statement,’ she said crisply. ‘Without that, what do we have? Mr Muir showed me the rifle you took off Mr Flann. It clearly isn’t the murder weapon. And Flann was adamant he’d never met Mrs Rennie or her family, never been to her house before, he was simply carrying out his own little search of the area, yada yada. And he’s accusing you of prejudice against his family.’

Hirsch heard the sharpness. He’d disappointed her; he should have confided in her about Flann. ‘Boss, his own brother can put him at the house.’

‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t he still missing? And how credible is he likely to be—assuming he’s found soon? Some actual evidence would be good.’

‘There is some,’ Hirsch said. He explained about the photographs on Flann’s phone.

‘Have you seen them?’

‘No, but—’

‘Perhaps they don’t exist. Perhaps he deleted them afterwards.’

‘Okay, what about the phone Mrs Washburn called you on? It was Denise Rennie’s. It was in Wayne’s ute.’

‘So? He can say he found it in the creek.’

Frustrated with her now, Hirsch said, an edge to his voice: ‘Boss, he took a shot at me.’

‘He says it was accidental,’ Brandl said.

Then her manner changed in its mercurial way. She grinned at him. ‘But taking a pot-shot at a policeman is enough to keep him locked up for the time being. Meanwhile, Jean’s got the search warrants. How confident are you that you’ll find something?’

Less confident than he sounded: ‘There’ll be something.’

The big metal cabinet on the back wall of the Flanns’ main shed. He was pretty keen to get a look inside that.

Half an hour later, only Hirsch and Jean Landy remained. Landy had a quiver on. ‘My first official search.’

‘Don’t get too excited. It’s generally dirty, dusty and thankless,’ Hirsch said. ‘You see things you can’t unsee. You—’

‘Like what?’

‘Things.’

Like violent porn, mouldy food, shit-smeared walls… Once he’d been searching a drug-couriering great-grandmother’s bedroom and tripped over a brimming chamber pot.

Mid-afternoon now. The New Year’s Eve drunks would be well on their way. Hirsch had been working all day; he’d be working through to the early hours. ‘You on duty tonight?’

Landy nodded. ‘Patrolling the mean streets of Redruth.’

Hirsch decided he liked her. He eyed her patrol car. ‘Convoy, or come with me?’