With No One As Witness - Rilegato

George, Elizabeth

Rilegato

ISBN 10: 0060545607 ISBN 13: 9780060545604

Casa editrice: Harper, 2005

Riassunto

“[A] juicy serial killer whodunit.”
—USA Today

“Delicately textured...achingly compassionate....It’s one of George’s best, and that’s saying something.”
—Seattle Times

The 13th novel in Elizabeth George’s acclaimed, New York Times bestselling Inspector Linley crime fiction series, With No One as Witness is arguably the most riveting, shocking, and emotionally compelling of the lot. The hunt for a serial killer who has been murdering and mutilating young boys in London has Scotland Yard Detective Superintendent Thomas Lynley and his team of investigators racing to stop the slaughter, only to have the investigation nearly derailed by one devastating, truly game changing event. An American author, George has been praised as “a master of the British mystery” by the New York Times, one of only two Yanks whose crime novels have been adapted for the PBS TV series, “Mystery,”  and her exceptional police procedurals rank with the best of Ian Rankin, Peter Robinson, and Ruth Rendell.

Su questo libro

Informazioni sull?autore

Elizabeth George is the New York Times bestselling author of sixteen novels of psychological suspense, one book of nonfiction, and two short story collections. Her work has been honored with the Anthony and Agatha awards, the Grand Prix de Littérature Policière, and the MIMI, Germany's prestigious prize for suspense fiction. She lives in Washington State.

Dalla quarta di copertina

Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley
takes on the case of his career.

When it comes to spellbinding suspense and page-turning excitement, New York Times bestselling author Elizabeth George always delivers. As the Wall Street Journal raves, "Ms. George can do it all, with style to spare."

In With No One as Witness, Elizabeth George has crafted an intricate, meticulously researched, and absorbing story sure to enthrall her readers. Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley is back, along with his longtime partner, the fiery Barbara Havers, and newly promoted Detective Sergeant Winston Nkata. They are on the hunt for a sinister killer.

When an adolescent boy's nude body is found mutilated and artfully arranged on the top of a tomb, it takes no large leap for the police to recognize this as the work of a serial killer. This is the fourth victim in three months but the first to be white.

Hoping to avoid charges of institutionalized racism in its failure to pursue the earlier crimes to their conclusion, New Scotland Yard hands the case over to Lynley and his colleagues. The killer is a psychopath who does not intend to be stopped. Worse, a devastating tragedy within the police ranks causes them to fumble in their pursuit of him.

Estratto. © Ristampato con autorizzazione. Tutti i diritti riservati.

With No One as Witness

By George, Elizabeth

HarperCollins Publishers

ISBN: 0060545607

Chapter One

Detective constable Barbara Havers considered herself one lucky bird: The drive was empty. She'd elected to do her weekly shop by car rather than on foot, and this was always a risky business in an area of town where anyone fortunate enough to find a parking space near their home clung to it with the devotion of the newly redeemed to the source of his redemption. But knowing she had much to purchase and shuddering at the thought of trudging in the cold back from the local grocery, she'd opted for transport and hoped for thebest. So when she pulled up in front of the yellow Edwardian house behind which her tiny bungalow stood, she took the space in the drive without compunction. She listened to the coughing and gagging of her Mini's engine as she turned it off, and she made her fifteenth mental note of the month to have the car looked at by a mechanic who -- one prayed -- would not ask an arm, a leg, and one's firstborn child to repair whatever was causing it to belch like a dyspeptic pensioner.

She climbed out and flipped the seat forward to gather up the firstof the plastic carrier bags. She'd linked four of them over her arms andwas dragging them out of the car when she heard her name called.

Someone sang it out. "Barbara! Barbara! Look what I've found inthe cupboard."

Barbara straightened and glanced in the direction from which thevoice had chimed. She saw the young daughter of her neighbour sittingon the weathered wooden bench in front of the ground-floor flatof the old converted building. She'd removed her shoes and was in the process of struggling into a pair of inline skates. Far too large by thelook of them, Barbara thought. Hadiyyah was only eight years old andthe skates were clearly meant for an adult.

"These're Mummy's," Hadiyyah informed her, as if reading hermind. "I found them in a cupboard, like I said. I've never skated onthem before. I expect they're going to be big on me, but I've stuffedthem with kitchen towels. Dad doesn't know."

"About the kitchen towels?"

Hadiyyah giggled. "Not that! He doesn't know that I've foundthem."

"Perhaps you're not meant to be using them."

"Oh, they weren't hidden. Just put away. Till Mummy gets home, Iexpect. She's in -- "

"Canada. Right," Barbara nodded. "Well, you take care withthose. Your dad's not going to be chuffed if you fall and break yourhead. D'you have a helmet or something?"

Hadiyyah looked down at her feet -- one skated and one socked -- and thought about this. "Am I meant to?"

"Safety precaution," Barbara told her. "A consideration for thestreet sweepers, as well. Keeps people's brains off the pavement."

Hadiyyah rolled her eyes. "I know you're joking."

Barbara crossed her heart. "God's truth. Where's your dad,anyway? Are you alone today?" She kicked open the picket gate thatfronted a path to the house, and she considered whether she ought totalk to Taymullah Azhar once again about leaving his daughter on herown. While it was true that he did it rarely enough, Barbara had toldhim that she would be pleased to look after Hadiyyah on her own timeoff if he had students to meet or lab work to supervise at the university.Hadiyyah was remarkably self-sufficient for an eight-year-old, butat the end of the day she was still that: an eight-year-old, and more innocentthan her fellows, in part because of a culture that kept her protectedand in part because of the desertion of her English mother whohad now been "in Canada" for nearly a year.

"He's gone to buy me a surprise," Hadiyyah informed her matterof-factly. "He thinks I don't know, he thinks I think he's running anerrand, but I know what he's really doing. It's 'cause he feels bad andhe thinks I feel bad, which I don't, but he wants to help me feel betteranyway. So he said, 'I've an errand to run, kushi,' and I'm meant to think it's not about me. Have you done your shopping? C'n I help you,Barbara?"

"More bags in the car if you want to fetch them," Barbara told her.

Hadiyyah slipped off the bench and -- one skate on and one skateoff -- hopped over to the Mini and pulled out the rest of the bags. Barbarawaited at the corner of the house. When Hadiyyah joined her,bobbing up and down on her one skate, Barbara said, "What's the occasion,then?"

Hadiyyah followed her to the bottom of the property where, undera false acacia tree, Barbara's bungalow -- looking much like a gardenshed with delusions of grandeur -- snowed flakes of green paint onto anarrow flower bed in need of planting. "Hmm?" Hadiyyah asked.Close up now, Barbara could see that the little girl wore the headphonesof a CD player round her neck and the player itself attached tothe waistband of her blue jeans. Some unidentifiable music was issuingtinnily from it in a feminine register. Hadiyyah appeared not to noticethis.

"The surprise," Barbara said as she opened the front door of herdigs. "You said your dad was out fetching you a surprise."

"Oh, that." Hadiyyah clumped into the bungalow and depositedher burdens on the dining table where several days' post mingled withfour copies of the Evening Standard, a basket of dirty laundry, and anempty bag of custard cremes. It all made an unappealing jumble atwhich the habitually neat little girl frowned meaningfully. "Youhaven't sorted out your belongings," she chided ...

Continues...

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Dettagli dell'edizione

• Editore: Harper
• Data di pubblicazione: 2005
• Lingua: Inglese
• ISBN 10: 0060545607
• ISBN 13: 9780060545604
• Rilegatura: Copertina rigida
• Numero edizione: 1
• Numero di pagine: 640
• Contatto del produttore: non disponibile
• Persona responsabile: Simone Casetta; 0039 275422215; casetta@mondadori.it; ; Via Mondadori 1,; Segrate Milano; 20090; Italia