The Shifting Landscape by Katherine Kovacic

Author:Katherine Kovacic
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, Art, Mystery, Amateur Detective, Painting, Australian Countryside
ISBN: 9781760686482
Publisher: Bonnier Publishing Fiction
Published: 2020-03-05T16:00:00+00:00

I hurry into the garden, but there’s no sign of John and Hogarth. Hopefully they’re not asleep under a bush somewhere, but I wouldn’t put it past either of them. Standing on my toes, I crane my head left and right, but the extra couple of centimetres does nothing for my perspective; still the same walls of green and gravel paths curving out of sight. I go back to where we’d been sitting, anxious to put a bit of distance between myself and the homestead. There’s something about Kinloch that makes me want to escape and it’s not just because of Mac’s murder. I feel as though I’m being watched. Maybe it was only Detective Arbuthnot, observing from the library window, but when I look back, only the windows of the upper floor and tower are visible now, and they present uniformly blank masks to Kinloch’s interior. There’s also a niggling feeling that the police will change their mind about us leaving, or the family will decide they want something more before we go.

‘John! Hogarth!’ I call.

There’s a slight chance that Hogarth will respond by taking the direct route and carve a line through the shrubbery, but if he does, fixing it will give the gardener something to do. I follow the path John and Hogarth took, but it quickly branches in three directions. A soft whistle gets no response so I stick four fingers in my mouth and blast out a loud double note. There’s a moment when all I can hear is the breeze soughing through the tall trees, then there’s a shout from somewhere off to my right. Moments later Hogarth appears around a curve in the path, travelling at warp factor ten and spraying gravel as he leans into the bend. As soon as he sees me he decelerates, slowing to a brisk trot and panting happily as he comes to a stop in front of me. I bob down.

‘Good boy,’ I say, stroking the fur on either side of his shaggy neck. He points his muzzle skyward, a clear invitation to scratch the spot just under his chin. I oblige. A moment later John appears, puffing and red in the face. When he sees Hogarth and me he stops and braces his hands on his knees, leaning forward and breathing heavily.

‘Thank God,’ he says after a few gasps. ‘Hogarth took off.

I thought he must be going after a rabbit or fox or some other rural creature. I had no idea what was going on.’

‘We do have foxes in Melbourne, you know.’ I stop scratching Hogarth and straighten up. ‘Didn’t you hear me whistle?’

‘Was that you? I thought it must be a farmer calling livestock in from the back country.’ John’s breathing is returning to normal.

‘At least a herd of cows would respond without hyperventilating. Do you do any exercise at all?’

‘Too dangerous. Can’t risk injury to my hands and besides, thin and aesthetic is part of my brand. I don’t think clients would be confident of my artistic and conservatorial skills if I was all buff with rippling abs.

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