Nature Does Abhor A Vacuum: Funeral Song By Robert Edric

The title sets the tone for this, the last novel of the Song Cycle Quartet and the opening pages continue the nostalgic feel with a Raymond Chandler style narration: Philip Marlowe seems to be still alive and kicking, albeit in Hull.

Leo Rivers, a Private Investigator, is employed by local businessman, Ray Dixon, to deliver £10k in used notes, to a blackmailer, in return for ‘the rest of a roll of film’ – photos of his daughter. It is supposed to be a one-off payment from a loving father to a local lowlife but there are enough unanswered questions to arouse Leo’s suspicions. He is right to be cautious but unfortunately, not quite cautious enough. He didn’t meet Sykes in The Anchor, as expected, but instead, Lorry, who really was a repugnant fellow, with two mates who were little better as they wielded their wooden batons on Leo’s body, in the car park, after the transfer of funds. They stopped only at some unseen signal, fortunately in time to save Leo from fatal injury.

Although there are references to former (corrupt) local police officers, and the return of some friendly faces, Sunny and Yvonne, who run a local news agency, this can be read as a standalone novel. The local force still treats Rivers with a degree of disdain but this time, it is Evans and later Watson, who at least reach a grudging understanding with him, as they pool their resources. Evans and Watson have ‘history’ which colours their actions at times. The irony is they don’t know the history of another colleague, which would certainly influence their thinking were it to be revealed.

Rivers is in deep and murky waters about which he actually knows nothing. He realises he is being used but the reason why eludes him for a while. He seems to have blundered into something much larger than he first anticipated but cannot even identify the major players in what is fast becoming a turf war. Drug-financed gang warfare, coupled with police corruption is not an easy battle for one man to fight. The police don’t trust him, the villains don’t trust him and staggering around blindly, he doesn’t necessarily trust himself. Edric’s grim descriptions of the back streets of Hull match the villainy - and growing number of bodies - at large: I doubt the Hull Tourist Board would be impressed.

‘Drugs, lives and suffering, abuse and exploitation all reduced to … profit’. Rivers finds himself engaging with ‘businessmen’ who care nothing for anyone until their own necks are squarely on the block. And with some who are, frankly, just too slippery to be caught. There are ‘too many dangerous sparks amid so much volatile material’ – both literally, given the three fires which are started, and metaphorically. Rivers gathers his information, meets history head on and realises just who and what is really driving the action: revenge and greed. Who would not have guessed those were the motives, even if the perpetrator does remain concealed for a long time, and in broad daylight, to boot? Once identities are revealed, the danger for some becomes far greater and the pressure is on for Rivers to get there first – and to persuade the representatives of law enforcement to believe his hypotheses which are little more than educated guesswork.

In fact, there are too many guesses and too much conjecture; the lack of hard evidence foreshadows the ending. For one who likes things neat and tidy, this was ultimately an unsatisfactory, if dramatic, finale, but for the cynic in me, it was at least believable. Once more the reader witnesses the death of innocents and innocence, as the small fry pay for the crimes of their masters who, it seems, will, for the most part, live to fight another day.

I did worry that the title of this novel was a hint of things to come. I’ve come to like Leo Rivers; he’s well-meaning with a core of goodness running through him. He, Sunny and Yvonne are good foils for each other. Sunny and Yvonne look out for Leo and care for him but not in a saccharine kind of way. They pull no punches and speak the truth even if their advice is sometimes ignored. Edric’s narratives are not neat and tidy – but then neither is life.