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Garry Disher - Dragon Man (Inspector Challis Mysteries)

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Garry Disher Dragon Man (Inspector Challis Mysteries)

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A first-rate piece of crime writing.The Washington Post Book World A straightforward police story with a terrific plot, nuanced characters and solid procedures, served up on refreshing new turf.Marilyn Stasio, The New York Times Book Review A police procedural of a very different kind. . . . A down under atmosphere that most American readers will find unique.The Plain Dealer Colorful. . . . Disher has literary talent and imagination. Chicago Tribune Disher makes his characters as interesting as his plot. Portsmouth Herald The American debut for Australian crime writer extraordinaire Disher is as complex and dark as anything by Ian Rankin or Michael Connelly.Las Vegas Mercury A serial killer is on the loose in a small coastal town near Melbourne. Detective Inspector Hal Challis and his team must apprehend him before he strikes again. But first, Challis has to contend with the editor of a local newspaper who undermines his investigation at every turn, and with his wife, who attempts to resurrect their marriage through long-distance phone calls from a sanitarium, where she has been imprisoned for the past eight years for attempted murderhis. Garry Disher is the author of over 40 books for adults and children. His crime fiction includes numerous anthologized stories and the Wyatt novels, including Kickback, winner of the 2000 German Critics Prize for Crime Fiction. The first in his Detective Inspector Challis murder mystery series, The Dragon Man won the German Critics Prize for Crime Fiction in 2001.

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The Dragon Man Inspector Challis01 By Garry Disher - photo 1The Dragon Man Inspector Challis01 By Garry Disher - photo 2

* * * *

The Dragon Man

[Inspector Challis01]

By Garry Disher

Scanned & Proofed By MadMaxAU

* * * *

Prologue

S

ometimesit felt as if he were prowling the roof of heaven, riding high through thenight, the stars close above him, nobody about, the teeming masses with theirpetty concerns tucked safely into their beds. He was as restless as a fox. Heseemed to have a channel through life at times like this, a path through thebroad darkness that was the Old Peninsula Highway, nothing and nobody to besethim. Down he went, the whole length of the slumbering hook of land, to where itreached the ocean, and then back again, to the far easterly tip of the city,where there were lights again, and the stench of humankind, and where he livedin a loveless house. He turned at a roundabout, headed on down toward the oceanagain.

He came upon her about halfway alongthe highway. Other cars at night were almost an affront to him, but they werealways gone in a flash, just a pair of headlamps, scarcely registering. Thiscar had stopped, parked on the gravel forecourt of a roadside fruit andvegetable outlet, a massive barn-like shape in the night. He slowed to no morethan a walking pace as he passed. The car looked forlorn, its bonnet up andsteam rising from the radiator. A solitary bulb high on a nearby pole cast aweak cone of grey-yellow light over a telephone box and the young woman insideit. She was speaking urgently, gesturing, but seemed to freeze when she saw himpassing, and stepped out to get a better look at him. He accelerated away. Theimage he had of her was of the loneliest figure at the loneliest spot on earth.Worlds end. Amen.

He turned around at the nextintersection, and when he reached her again he turned in off the road, steeringclose to her poor, hangdog car. Good. She was alone. He drove past her caruntil he was adjacent to the phone box, then wound down his window. He didntwant to alarm her by opening his door and getting out.

She was hovering in the phone box.He called across to her: Everything okay? Phone working? Sometimes its beenvandalised.

He sounded like a local. That wouldhelp. He saw her wrap her arms about herself. Fine, thanks. I rang a breakdownservice. Theyre on their way.

He happened to glance away from herand at her car. He stiffened, looking back at her in alarm: Did you havesomeone with you?

She froze, began to tremble, and hervoice when it came was no more than a squeak. What do you mean?

Theres someone in the back of yourcar, behind the seat.

She edged toward him. Who? I didntsee anyone.

He opened his door, put one foot onthe ground. I dont like it. Did you leave the car unattended at any time?

The station car park. Its beenthere all day.

There have been cases... he said.

He got out then, keeping his dooropen. They were both eyeing her car, ready to flee. Look, he said, youdbetter hop in with me, slide across to the passenger side.

She weighed it up. He was carefulnot to look at her but to let her see the anxiety on his face. Then, as shecame toward him, he moved away, edging around his own car and toward hers.

Her hand went to her mouth. Whatare you doing? Come back, please come back.

I want to get a closer look at him.For the police.

No!

Her fear seemed to communicateitself to him. I guess youre right.

Just get me away from here!

Okay.

It was as easy as that. Inspired,really. That first one, last week, she hadnt been a challenge at all. Drunk,half-drugged, hitchhiking, shed been too easy. At least hed got to use hishead a little tonight. His headlights probed the darkness as he carried heraway, high above the rottenness that was always there under the light of thesun.

* * * *

One

D

etectiveInspector Hal Challis showered with a bucket at his feet. He kept iteconomical, but still the bucket overflowed. He towelled himself dry, dressed,and, while the espresso pot was heating on the bench-top burner in his kitchen,poured the bucket into the washing machine. Couple more showers and hed haveenough water for a load of washing. Only 19 December but already his rainwatertanks were low and a long, dry summer had been forecast. He didnt want to buywater again, not like last summer.

The coffee was ready. As he pouredhe glanced at an old calendar pinned to the corkboard above his bench. Hedbought the calendar by mail order three years ago, and kept it opened at March.The vintage aeroplane for that month was a prototype of the de Havilland DH84Dragon. Then the toaster pinged and Challis hunted for the butter and the jamand finally took his toast and coffee on to the deck at the rear of his house.

The early sun reached him throughthe wisteria with the promise of a hot day ahead. He felt bone-tired. Asuspected abduction on the Old Peninsula Highway two nights agotheinvestigation ultimately dumped into his lap. Frankston uniforms had taken thecall, then referred it to the area Superintendent, whod rung at 1 a.m. andsaid, Maybe your boys struck a second time, Hal. Challis had spent the nextfour hours at the scene, directing a preliminary search. When hed got homeagain at 5 a.m. yesterday there hadnt seemed much point in going back to bed,and hed spent the rest of the day in the car or on the phone.

A little four-stroke engine waschugging away on the bank of his neighbours dam. Cows once drank there. Nowthe cows were gone and the hillside stretched back in orderly rows of vines.Challis couldnt spot his neighbour among the vines, but the man was theresomewhere. He usually was, weeding, pruning, spraying, picking. Challis thoughtof the insecticide spray, of the wind carrying it to his roof, where the rainwould wash it into his underground tank, and he tossed out his coffee.

He stepped down from the verandah andmade a circuit of his boundary fence. Half a hectare, on a dirt lane west ofthe Old Peninsula Highway, tucked in among orchards, vineyards and a horsestud, and Challis made this walk every morning and evening as a kind of checkon his feelings. Five years now, and still the place was his port in a storm.

As he collected the Age fromhis mailbox on the dirt lane at the front of his property, a voice called fromthe next driveway, Hal, have you got a minute?

The man from the vineyard waswalking toward him. Small, squint-eyed from the angling sun, about sixty.Challis waited, gazing calmly, as he did with suspects, and sure enough the mangrew edgy.

Challis stopped himself. The fellowdidnt deserve his CIB tricks. What can I do for you?

Look, I realise its nothing, butyou know the ornamental lake Ive got, over near the house?

Yes.

Someones been fishing in it, theneighbour said. After the trout. The thing is, theyre scaring the birds away.

Ibis, herons, a black swan,moorhens. Challis had watched them for half an hour one day, from a little hidethe man had constructed in the reeds. Do you know who?

Probably kids. I found a couple oftangled lines and fishhooks, half a dozen empty Coke cans.

Challis nodded. Have you informed thelocal station?

I thought, you being an inspector

Inform the local station, Challissaid. Theyll send a car around now and then, make their presence felt.

Cant you...

Im very sorry, but it would lookbetter if you lodged the complaint.

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