The smiling and beautiful countryside

Het zullen de Scandinavische politieseries zijn, of anders wel mijn eigen zieke geest, maar als ik zo’n schuurtje zie krijg ik de kriebels en zie ik de meest gruwelijke taferelen voor mijn geestesoog. Aan het rijtje means, motive en opportunity is al zo veel bij voorbaat voldaan op zo’n locatie. Moet ik meteen denken aan een Sherlock Holmes citaat denken:

 

“Good heavens!” I cried. “Who would associate crime with these dear old homesteads?”
“They always fill me with a certain horror. It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside.”
“You horrify me!”
“But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion can do in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard’s blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbours, and then the whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word of complaint can set it going, and there is but a step between the crime and the dock. But look at these lonely houses, each in its own fields, filled for the most part with poor ignorant folk who know little of the law. Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may go on, year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser.”¹

 

En dat terwijl die lieve mensen alleen maar hun vissen drogen, roken of anderszins nabewerken.