The temperature is blistering today, it has been for over a week and a dust storm has put a haze over the whole town. My hay fever is in full swing, complete with scratchy eyes and a nose I can’t breathe through and it’s only nine o’clock in the morning. I’m sitting outside the station in my police car with the air conditioning on, wishing I didn’t have to go to work today.
I’m thirty-eight years old, reasonably fit, and in charge of a police station that consists of myself, two brand new constables and a senior constable. It’s a small country town and it’s standard practice for all new recruits to do a tour in the country; I’m just lucky Senior Constable Jordan decided to stay on. Normally, they do their probation out west and then apply for a job somewhere else closer to where they grew up or want to settle.
A tap at my window has me looking at our newest constable, Grace Wickie. She grew up here so, for her, being posted here wasn’t a burden but a relief. Frowning, I push the button to wind the window down and in the process am hit with the heat of the day.
“Wickie.”
“Good morning, Sergeant. Are you ready to start the day?” Grace asks cheerfully.
“Yeah,” I say as I turn off the car. Grace is young, pretty, and fresh out of the academy. I was like her once, but in my twenty years as a copper, I’ve seen it all—the good, the bad and the ugly. This small town of five thousand people is my last post. I’m not looking for a promotion; I’m looking for a place to call home and this picturesque town is as good as any.
“It’s going to be hot today, hey?”
I open the car door and get out.
“Sure is, in the fifties. Too hot for work, that’s for sure.” I cast a glance at the carpark and see two unfamiliar cars parked. “We got company?”
Grace nods.
“Are they happy or pissed off?” I ask.
“The heat’s getting to everyone. One old guy is complaining about his hose, another complaining that someone is draining his tanks.”
I shut the car door and walk inside. It’s cool and the air conditioning feels like walking into moisture. People go a little nutty in the summer and we haven’t even reached peak season. This town is filled with farmers, most of whom the drought is killing slowly. It’s a hardship for all of us. If the farmers fail so does the town.
Sitting on the bench in front of the desk are two men, one I recognise as Peter Kemp, a local farmer. They both look annoyed.
“Gentlemen, who was first?” I ask with a smile.
“I was,” replies the man closest to me as he stands.
“I’m Sergeant Adam Shaw. Please come with me.”
The older man falls in behind me as we make our way through the station. I open my door and look toward my normally cluttered desk. I’m thankful to see it has been tidied, probably by Constable Wickie.
“Please take a seat, Mr…?”
“Graham, Steve Graham.”
I sit down behind my desk and Mr. Graham sits opposite me.
“How can I help you today?”
“Someone’s stealing bits of my hose.” Mr. Graham leans forward and continues. “It’s not the first time either! I’m sick of it! Bloody vandals!” His face is all screwed up and his voice has risen. “Can you put someone on my house?”
“Where do you live, Mr. Graham?”
“I’m out of town. My garden has won best garden in the district three years in a row! I can’t do that if someone is sabotaging me.”
“So you think this is a fellow competitor?”
“Who else would steal my hose?”
“Okay, Mr. Graham, I’ll look into. Do you think it could be teenagers having a go?”
“Why would they care if I win or not?”
The old guy is so consumed in his need to win that he doesn’t understand what I’m saying to him.
“No sir, I don’t think they would care but teenagers can be…annoying in their pursuits of fun.”
“You think someone is doing this for fun? My roses need attention, as do most of the flowers I have growing, and I can’t afford to keep buying new hoses! So, is this a widespread thing in the community? Not something isolated to me?”
This conversation has taken a turn for the worst. Now I have the old guy thinking we have a community-wide hose stealing problem.
“No, sir, I was just thinking that some local kids are trying to get under your skin, that’s all.”
“Well, they’ve done that!”
“I can assure you, I’ll look into it.”
“That’s it? You’ll look into it?”
“Yes, sir. Now if you don’t mind, I need to see the other gentleman in the waiting room. If you could leave your details with Constable Wickie, I would appreciate it.”
With a stern look and huff, Mr. Graham stands and walks out of my office leaving the door open. I’m fairly sure it’s the bored teenagers in this town with nothing better to do than irritate him but I’ll look into it.
I stand and go to my door. Peter Kemp is staring at me, so I motion for him to come in. As I’ve done a hundred times before, I take a seat at my desk and wait for him to enter.
When he does, I stand and hold out my hand.
“Peter, how are you?”
“Adam,” replies the older man as he shakes my hand. “I’ve had better months. With the clouds on the horizon, we all need to pray it rains. You know I live out of town?”
I nod. Peter is one of the biggest landowners in the area.
“Someone has stolen water out of two of my tanks. Both times I was away on business. Sergeant, you know water is expensive. I can’t afford to be buying water all the time.”
“Please, have a seat,” I say, gesturing to the empty chair.
“Can’t, got to get back to the farm.” He points over his shoulder. “I filled out some paper work with the girl.” Mr. Kemp pauses and looks me in the eye. “I know this might not mean much to you, but that water sets me back a bit, son. I have cows and crops that all need it. Water is life and someone is stealing it from me.”
“I’ll come out and take a look personally.”
Mr. Kemp nods. “Appreciate it.”