Larmes fatales

Clare Randell has a problem with her boyfriend and a lazy San Francisco Sunday to think it over. That's the Sunday she helps a passing stranger pick up the papers he's dropped from his briefcase. From then on Clare's problems got bigger and more dangerous. Someone puts a hole in her arm with a silenced gun in a crowded street. Is it the same someone who put the bomb in her apartment? The cop assigned to her case is Lieutenant Malchek, an ex-Vietnam sniper who now specialises in hit-men and contract killers. Maybe the man who dropped the papers was someone special. Maybe he's got Clare on his list.

A Running Duck

Every year, the normally staid citizens of Blackwater Bay celebrate Halloween with a carnival of madness and laughter - they call it the Howl. Practical jokes are the speciality of the day and every town in the county competes for the wildest 'Howler' of all. For one person however, the Howl means murder. Under cover of the carnival, the killer that struck thirty years ago strikes again. Or, at least, that is what Sheriff Matt Gabriel thinks. Everybody else says he's crazy. Suspicion, hatred and resentment surround him as he searches for the person who killed once, twice - and may kill again. Witty, full of incident and character, with a genuinely surprising solution, A Few Dying Words, once again proves Paula Gosling's mastery in the art of the whodunit.

A Few Dying Words

Wychford is a charming and quiet West Country village. Or rather, it was - until Mrs Tompkins was found with her throat slashed. Now, when evening shadows fall, the picturesque little lanes seem filled with menace and golden Cotswold stones are stained with blood in the first of Paula Gosling's Luke Abbott series, The Wychford Murders. Detective Chief Inspector Luke Abbott is sent to find the killer. He was born and brought up in Wychford - but he hardly recognizes it. The young girl he loved has become the local doctor. The boy who once bullied him is now a respected local Squire. And in all the small homes and cottages the people of Wychford hide - wondering who next will fall victim to the killer's bloody knife. Abbott's investigation exposes the private lives behind the postcard prettiness: secret loves and hates, perversion, envy, jealousy, greed, and - eventually - a ruthless murderer.

The Wychford Murders

Ce n'est pas tous les jours que l'on tombe nez à nez avec un cadavre grignoté par les poissons en creusant un trou dans la glace pour pêcher. Surtout quand la cause de la mort s'apparente plus à un impact de balle qu'à une attaque de truites enragées...
Et dire que le shérif Matt Gabriel s'apprêtait à passer un hiver calme, seulement rompu par la traditionnelle fête de la Glace !
La disparition mystérieuse d'une jeune fille du lycée local, élève de Jess Gibbons, ne fait qu'aggraver la situation. De plus, on murmure que la disparue n'avait pas froid aux yeux...
Difficile de découvrir le moindre indice, quand la moindre surface à l'air libre est recouverte par trois mètres de neige, et que même les cadavres arrivent difficilement à remonter à la surface des eaux gelées...
Suspense et humour par -40° C, un exploit uniquement réalisable par Paula Gosling !

Au coeur de l'hiver

A person who would kill a cop respects no-one. A person who would kill a cop would kill anyone. Four cops, from four precincts, all shot dead. A chaotic wave is erupting through the American police force in Paula Gosling's second Jack Stryker novel, Backlash. When a federal investigator appears on the killer's hit list, the simple answers seem to be disappearing way too fast and time is running out. Are these homicides linked? Or is the killer choosing victims at random? Can the police department computer make any connections that stick? Detective Lieutenant Jack Stryker is on the case with his partner Agent Dana Marchant, and together they must track a marksman with an uncanny criminal brain and a ruthlessly persistent purpose.

Backlash

L'Arnaque n'est plus ce qu'elle était

Ce passé de tireur d'élite au Viet-Nam, il le traînait comme un boulet qui était devenu un remords. Son ennemi - public et intime - tuait pour l'argent et n'en éprouvait aucun remords. De l'orgueil, au contraire. Alors, entre celui qui avait honte et celui qui s'en croyait, s'interposa la tendresse d'une femme qui n'avait envie que de vivre.

Larmes fatales

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