Liar Liar - [2]
Replacing the flowers in the urn, she leant forward and kissed Marianne’s headstone. Straightening up, she offered a few words of love, then turned and hurried on her way. She had wanted to come here – she never ducked her duty – but the winds were arctic tonight and if she stayed here much longer she would suffer for it. Helen loathed illness – her life never seemed to allow for it anyway – and the thought of being tucked up at home in her flat suddenly seemed very attractive indeed. Hurrying back down the path, she vaulted the locked iron gates and made her way back to the car park, now cheerless and deserted save for Helen’s Kawasaki.
Reaching her bike, Helen paused to take in the view. You could see the whole of Southampton from the top of Abbey Hill and this vista always cheered her, especially at night when the lights of the city below twinkled and glistened, full of promise and intrigue.
But not tonight. As Helen looked down at the city that had been her home for so long, she caught her breath. From this high up, she could see not one, not two, but three major fires gripping the city, fierce orange tongues of flame reaching up towards the heavens.
Southampton was ablaze.
3
Thomas Simms slammed the car horn and swore violently. Despite the late hour, the traffic near the airport had been murder, thanks to a lorry shedding its load. Having eventually escaped that snarl-up, Thomas had seemed set fair for the short drive back to his home in Millbrook – only to run straight into another jam. It was gone midnight now – where the hell was all this traffic coming from?
He flicked through the local radio stations searching for a traffic bulletin, but, finding nothing save for late-night phone-ins, impatiently switched the radio off. What should he do? There was a shortcut coming up but it would mean diverting through the Empress Road industrial estate, not something he was keen to do, given the prostitutes who’d be there at this time of night. The sight of them, half naked and shivering, always depressed him and he never felt comfortable sitting at the slow-changing traffic lights, eyed up by pimps and working girls alike. Given the choice, he preferred to stick to the main roads, but the sound of approaching sirens made up his mind. A fire engine and an ambulance were trying to bully their way through the traffic. If they were heading in his direction that could only mean that there was trouble ahead.
Slipping into first gear, Thomas mounted the lip of the pavement and drove for twenty yards before turning sharply left down a dark, one-way street. Suddenly liberated, he drove too fast, speeding past the 30 mph sign as if it didn’t exist, before catching himself and lowering his speed to a more sensible level. If he was lucky, he would be home in five minutes – kissing his wife and kids goodnight before flopping into bed. There was no point in getting pulled over by the cops now that the end was so nearly in sight.
He worked sixteen-hour days at his import business near the airport, and he missed his family – but he was no fool. So though he was tempted to run the red light on the Empress Road, to escape the unwanted attentions of the scrawny drug addict in hot pants, he waited patiently for the lights to change, distracting himself from the unpleasant sideshow by thinking of the warm, king-size bed that awaited him at home.
He drove through the city centre, then picked up the West Quay Road, before finally hitting the home straight. Millbrook wasn’t a fancy neighbourhood, but the housing was solid Victorian, the neighbours were decent and best of all it was quiet. Or at least normally it was. Tonight there seemed to be a lot of people about, the majority of them making their way to Hillside Crescent – his road.
Thomas muttered to himself. Please God there wasn’t some kind of party going on. A couple of the more expensive houses had been occupied by squatters recently and local residents had been kept awake as a result. But things had been quiet of late and, besides, the people hurrying towards Hillside Crescent were not ravers, they were ordinary mums and dads, some of whom he recognized from the morning run.
The expressions on their faces alarmed him, and as he approached the turning into his road he realized why they were looking so concerned. A huge plume of smoke billowed into the night sky, illuminated by the sombre sodium glow of the streetlights. Someone’s house was on fire.
No wonder everyone was worried – the housing round here was gentrified Victorian – all scrubbed wooden floorboards and feature staircases. If the fire jumped from one house to the next then who’s to say where it would end? Fear gripped him now as he sped down the street, honking his horn aggressively to clear his path of gawpers. What if the fire was close to his house? Immediately he clamped down his fear, telling himself not to be stupid. Karen would have called him if she was concerned about anything.
The road was blocked now with ambling pedestrians, so Thomas pulled over to the kerb and climbed out. Locking the door, he started to jog down the street. The fire
Detective Helen Grace is on the trail of a twisted serial killer in this riveting thriller in the gripping * international bestselling series."Ruby wakes up in a strange room. Her captor calmly explains that no one is looking for her. No one wants her. Except him."When the body of a woman is found buried on a secluded beach, Detective Helen Grace is called to the scene. She knows right away that the killer is no amateur. The woman has been dead for years, and no one has even reported her missing. But why would they? She s still sending text messages to her family.Helen is convinced that a criminal mastermind is at work: someone very smart, very careful, and worst of all, very patient.
Детектив-инспектор Хелен Грейс расследует серию преступлений, в каждом из которых похищены два человека. Похититель ставит свои жертвы перед страшным выбором – убить другого или умереть самому. Как долго продолжится эта смертельная игра, зависит только от Хелен. Ведь этими похищениями маньяк шлет послание лично ей.
The international bestseller that "grabs the reader by the throat" (Crime Time).First in the new series featuring Detective Inspector Helen Grace.Two people are abducted, imprisoned, and left with a gun. As hunger and thirst set in, only one walks away alive.It's a game more twisted than any Detective Inspector Helen Grace has ever seen. If she hadn't spoken with the shattered survivors herself, she almost wouldn't believe them.Helen is familiar with the dark sides of human nature, including her own, but this case-with its seemingly random victims-has her baffled.
Detective Helen Grace faces her own dark compulsions in the new thriller from the international best-selling author of Pop Goes the Weasel and Eeny Meeny.In a world where disguises and discretion are the norm, and where one admission could unravel a life, a killer has struck, and a man is dead. No one wants to come forward to say what they saw or what they know – including the woman heading the investigation: Detective Helen Grace.Helen knew the victim. And the victim knew her – better than anyone else.
From the international bestselling author of Eeny Meeny comes the second thriller in the truly excellent series * featuring Detective Helen Grace."A man s body is found in an empty house.A gruesome memento of his murder is sent to his wife and children."He is the first victim, and Detective Helen Grace knows he will not be the last. But why would a happily married man be this far from home in the dead of night?The media call it Jack the Ripper in reverse: a serial killer preying on family men who lead hidden double lives.Helen can sense the fury behind the murders.
Луна временами становится красной. Кто-то даже не заметит, но только не жители маленького городка Делейси. События предстоящей ночи поменяют их жизни навсегда. Человек-без-имени хочет исцелиться от древнего недуга. Банковский клерк постарается изо всех сил спасти возлюбленную. А троица грабителей планируют сорвать солидный куш. Остаётся вопрос: а нет ли четвёртой заинтересованной стороны?
Юрий Ребров по образованию преподаватель русского языка и литературы. Долгое время занимался журналистикой, работал ведущим на радио и телевидении. Занимал должность главного редактора журнала. Сочинение детективных произведений — его старое увлечение. Повести Юрия Реброва неоднократно публиковались в журналах и были награждены премиями. В настоящее время вышло несколько его книг. Компания «Посейдон» лакомый кусочек: морские суда, ценные грузы, портовая инфраструктура. И владелец ее Юрий Филимонов тоже настоящая акула капитала.
Книга «Восемь дней в сентябре и Рождество в Париже» — это детективный роман петербургского искусствоведа В. И. Переятенец. Будучи аттестованным экспертом Министерства культуры РФ, автором многочисленных статей и таких книг, как «Русский антиквариат» и «Экспертиза и оценка произведений декоративно-прикладного искусства. Фарфор. Стекло. Ювелирные изделия», она хорошо знакома со средой коллекционеров и торговцев антиквариатом. Однако не следует воспринимать данное сочинение как документальное.
Действие нового романа Ирины Лобусовой «Красная комната» происходит в большом городе, куда приезжает, переживая любовную драму, талантливая художница Евгения Кравец, именующая себя Джин. Она устраивается на работу дизайнером в архитектурную фирму и снимает квартиру в старинном доме: ей очень нравится гостиная в красных обоях, производящая на многих зловещее впечатление. Джин чувствует некоторое родство с этой странной комнатой, да и сама она выглядит странно, эпатируя окружающих зелеными волосами, в том числе руководителя фирмы Вадима, человека пресыщенного, живущего в свое удовольствие, но давно потерявшего интерес ко всему.
В маленьком городке, затерянном среди бескрайних пустошей Австралии, произошла трагедия: священник местной церкви убил пятерых человек, а потом и сам погиб от пули полицейского. Что же стало причиной кровавой бойни? В этом решил разобраться известный столичный журналист Мартин Скарсден. Однако едва он приступил к расследованию, как городок потрясло новое преступление – возле запруды обнаружили тела двух неизвестных молодых женщин… Связаны ли между собой это двойное убийство и история священника-«стрелка»? Расследование Мартина приняло новый оборот.