Career of Evil (A Cormoran Strike Novel)

Career of Evil (A Cormoran Strike Novel)

Robert Galbraith

Language: English

Pages: 512

ISBN: 0316349895

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Career of Evil (A Cormoran Strike Novel)

Robert Galbraith

Language: English

Pages: 512

ISBN: 0316349895

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Career of Evil is the third in the highly acclaimed series featuring private detective Cormoran Strike and his assistant Robin Ellacott.
When a mysterious package is delivered to Robin Ellacott, she is horrified to discover that it contains a woman's severed leg. Her boss, private detective Cormoran Strike, is less surprised but no less alarmed. There are four people from his past who he thinks could be responsible--and Strike knows that any one of them is capable of sustained and unspeakable brutality.
With the police focusing on one of the suspects, Strike and Robin delve into the dark and twisted worlds of the other three men. But as more horrendous acts occur, time is running out for the two of them...

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picture. She did not want to have to zoom in and nor did she need to. The words Mistress of were clearly legible. The bathroom fan whirred into life next door. With a guilty start, Robin shut down the page she had been viewing. Matthew had lately developed a habit of borrowing her laptop and a few weeks previously she had caught him reading her emails to Strike. With this in mind, she reopened the web page, cleared her browsing history, brought up her settings and, after a moment’s

were followed by a knock on the door. Strike opened it. A spotty, greasy-haired man looked hazily at him. He appeared extremely stoned and was holding a can of John Smith’s. “Jesus,” he said blearily, sniffing. “’S’that fucking smell?” “Gas,” said Strike in his fluorescent jacket, stern representative of the National Grid. “We’ve had a report from upstairs. Looks like this is where it’s coming from.” “Bloody hell,” said the neighbor, looking sick. “Not going to blow up, are we?” “That’s what

be. Strike had sent the pigs to him and they hadn’t been interested. He was safe for sure. There was nothing to connect him to any of them… Except that that guy with the scarred face had been on the Tube from Finchley. The implications of that temporarily jammed his thought processes. If somebody was following not Donald Laing but a completely different man, he was totally fucked… He began to walk, every now and then breaking into a short run. The crutches that were so useful a prop were no

trees, the yellow rugby posts shining in the sun, stands to the right and softly undulating hills beyond. The pitch was as well maintained as any place of worship, and an extraordinarily well-appointed facility for such a small town. Staring out across the expanse of velvety grass, Strike remembered Whittaker, stinking and smoking in the corner of the squat while Leda lay beside him, listening open-mouthed to the tales of his hard life—credulous and greedy as a baby bird, as Strike now saw it,

about him.” The downstairs door buzzer sounded. “That’ll be Wardle.” “Wardle?” she repeated, startled. “He’s the friendliest copper we know,” Strike reminded her. “Stay put, I’ll bring him to you here.” Strike had managed to make himself unpopular among the Metropolitan Police over the previous year, which was not entirely his fault. The fulsome press coverage of his two most notable detective triumphs had understandably galled those officers whose efforts he had trumped. However, Wardle,

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