The Twenty-Year Death (Hard Case Crime)
Ariel S. Winter
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
THERE’S NEVER BEEN A BOOK LIKE
THE TWENTY-YEAR DEATH
A breathtaking first novel written in the form of three separate crime novels, each set in a different decade and penned in the style of a different giant of the mystery genre.
The body found in the gutter in France led the police inspector to the dead man’s beautiful daughter—and to her hot-tempered American husband.
A hardboiled private eye hired to keep a movie studio’s leading lady happy uncovers the truth behind the brutal slaying of a Hollywood starlet.
A desperate man pursuing his last chance at redemption finds himself with blood on his hands and the police on his trail...
Three complete novels that, taken together, tell a single epic story, about an author whose life is shattered when violence and tragedy consume the people closest to him. It is an ingenious and emotionally powerful debut performance from literary detective and former bookseller Ariel S. Winter, one that establishes this talented newcomer as a storyteller of the highest caliber.
placated. “That’s all I can tell you,” I added. “No, of course,” she said, lifting her head up and with it her shoulders. “I try not to know anything about my father’s business. When your father’s a magic maker it takes all the magic out of life, because you’ve seen all the tricks.” “Unless he learns a new one.” She smiled, and it was her award-winning smile again. “Old dogs, Mr. Foster. Or I forget, did you say to call you Dennis?” “I didn’t say either.” She waved that away, and let her
he said, his key already out. “Good morning,” I said. He let us into the building, and we went up to his office without another word. The elevator opened onto the dark offices of Palmer, Palmer, and Crick. Palmer stepped out ahead of me and flipped a switch, and the overhead fluorescent lights started to flicker to life, revealing the waiting room I had last been in what felt like a lifetime ago. He led me back past the dark conference room, into his office, where the outside light lit the
burial ground each time, since he was convinced that the bodies had been buried on five separate occasions. He would know for sure when the medical examiner had examined the corpses. Tuesday, April 4, Approx 5 PM—Georges Perreaux (six years old) and Albert Perreaux (five years old) go missing. Last seen at Monsieur Marque’s sweet shop. Letreau had interviewed Monsieur Marque himself. He assured Pelleter that Monsieur Marque was in no way involved with the children’s disappearance. And why
would find something. One of these people had to know something about removing the bodies. He just had to find which one. He waved to Letreau to let the next one in. Letreau brought in a young guard, and they each took their respective seats. The guard was no more than twenty-two, and the scruff that he must have considered a beard was still patchy in parts, the space under his lower lip completely bald. “What’s your name?” Pelleter began. “Jean Empermont.” Pelleter frowned. “You’re the guard
door, standing off to the side with his back to the wall of the house. There was a small semi-circular window made of three panes in the upper portion of the back door. The chief inspector allowed himself a quick look. The hall was shadowed, all of the light coming from the open door at the other end. All the chief inspector could be certain of was that it was empty. Pelleter reached across the door and tried the handle. It was unlocked. The hinges were mercifully silent. He entered the house