Snuff, Terry Pratchett
Discworld Number 39, Ankh-Morpork City Warch Number 8 and Sam Vimes goes on a holiday. As unlikely a scenario as you could possibly expect, especially when the holiday is in the country - balls, teas, nights that are quiet, except for the birds screaming. None of which is particularly conducive to relaxation for a man who regards relaxation as somewhat akin to death. Luckily he manages to find a body, a case, anything to distract him from Lady Sybill's imposed ban on bacon sandwiches. And that birdsong.
We head into some very dark subject matter with SNUFF - racism and prejudice in particular, as the victim is a young goblin girl and it seems that a lot of people regard them as property, which Sam is having none of. Of course, young Sam is on hand to provide plenty of distraction - this time in the form of an obsession with poo.
Having now only two more books to mention in this series I'm struck, yet again, about how much we've lost. I like to pretend to myself that Sam, young Sam and Sybill are out there, somewhere in the Discworld universe, rubbing along together, living their best possible lives.
Sam Vimes is on a well-deserved holiday. But for the commander of the City Watch, a vacation in the country is anything but relaxing. The balls, the teas, the muck - not to mention all that fresh air and birdsong - are more than a bit taxing on a cynical city-born and -bred copper. Yet a policeman will find a crime anywhere if he decides to look hard enough, and it’s not long before a body is discovered, and Sam - out of his jurisdiction, out of his element, and out of bacon sandwiches (thanks to his well-meaning wife) - must rely on his instincts, guile, and street smarts to see justice done.