Detective Inspector Huss

Zusatztext Praise for Detective Inspector Huss An absorbing! intelligent mystery that holds its own alongside the best feminine hardboiled novels currently being written. Maureen Corrigan! The Washington Post Book World Add the voice of Helene Tursten to the list of mystery writers who know how to craft a truly satisfying police procedural. The Philadelphia Inquirer [Tursten] imbues this novel with a cold chill of dread that can't be attributed only to the subfreezing temperatures of Göteborg in winter. Chicago Sun-Times An intriguing portrait of the workings of a murder squad as well as modern Swedish life. Portsmouth Herald Informationen zum Autor Helene Tursten was a nurse and a dentist before she turned to writing. Other books in the Irene Huss series include Night Rounds , The Torso , The Glass Devil , The Golden Calf , The Beige Man , and The Treacherous Net . She was born in Göteborg, Sweden, where she now lives with her husband and daughter. Klappentext Inspector Irene Huss! stationed in Goteborg! is called through the rain-drenched wintry streets to the scene of an apparent suicide. The dead man landed on the sidewalk in front of his luxurious duplex apartment. He was a wealthy financier connected! through an old-boys' network! with the first families of Sweden. But the "Society Suicide" turns out to have been a carefully plotted murder. As more murders ensue! she tangles with street gang members! skinheads! immigrants and neo-Nazis--a cross-section of Sweden's disaffected--in order to catch the killer. Prologue NOBODY SAW HIM FALL through the dense November darkness. With a dull, heavy thud he hit the rain-wet pavement. Even though it was still rush hour, there were few people on the street. The pedestrians huddled beneath umbrellas turned inside out and scrunched their chins into turned-up collars for a little protection from the icy, whipping rain. Everyone who could was driving a car or jammed into the steaming warmth aboard a bus or streetcar. An elderly woman pulling a stubborn, soaking-wet dachshund on a leash stood closest. The howls that she and the dog uttered announced to those people in the vicinity that something serious had happened. Hurrying pedestrians slowed their pace. Curiosity got the upper hand, and they were drawn toward the site of the accident. A white Mercedes was carelessly parked by the curb. A man in a light-colored overcoat had just rushed around the car and opened the door on the passenger's side when the lady with the dachshund started to scream. The man turned quickly, squinted through the rain, and caught sight of the heap thirty meters away. He kept his grip on the open car door, slowly tilted his head back, and looked up at the top floor of the imposing apartment building. A faint moaning sound rose from his throat, but he remained catatonically still. Without putting on her coat, the small woman in the passenger's seat jumped nimbly out of the car and ran over to the motionless figure on the ground. Her slenderness was emphasized by the stylish Chanel dress she was wearing. She had mastered to perfection the art of running in high heels. She elbowed her way through the crowd frenetically and reached the inner circle. Chapter One THE PATROL CAR WAS the first to arrive on the scene. The ambulance came a scant five minutes later. As far as the ambulance medics could tell, there wasn't much for them to do. The two police officers attempted to hold back the sensation-hungry spectators who suddenly were stoic enough to defy both wind and rain. One of the officers got into the car and called for backup. Send the crime scene team to the corner of...

Praise for Detective Inspector Huss

“An absorbing, intelligent mystery that holds its own alongside the best feminine hardboiled novels currently being written.”
—Maureen Corrigan, The Washington Post Book World

“Add the voice of Helene Tursten to the list of mystery writers who know how to craft a truly satisfying police procedural.”
—The Philadelphia Inquirer

“[Tursten] imbues this novel with a cold chill of dread that can’t be attributed only to the subfreezing temperatures of Göteborg in winter.”
—Chicago Sun-Times

“An intriguing portrait of the workings of a murder squad as well as modern Swedish life.”
—Portsmouth Herald

Autorentext
Helene Tursten was a nurse and a dentist before she turned to writing. Other books in the Irene Huss series include Night Rounds, The Torso, The Glass Devil, The Golden Calf, The Beige Man, and The Treacherous Net. She was born in Göteborg, Sweden, where she now lives with her husband and daughter.

Klappentext

Inspector Irene Huss, stationed in Goteborg, is called through the rain-drenched wintry streets to the scene of an apparent suicide. The dead man landed on the sidewalk in front of his luxurious duplex apartment. He was a wealthy financier connected, through an old-boys' network, with the first families of Sweden. But the "Society Suicide" turns out to have been a carefully plotted murder. As more murders ensue, she tangles with street gang members, skinheads, immigrants and neo-Nazis--a cross-section of Sweden's disaffected--in order to catch the killer.

Zusammenfassung
One of the most prominent citizens of Göteborg, Sweden, plunges to his death off an apartment balcony, but what appears to be a “society suicide” soon reveals itself to be a carefully plotted murder. Irene Huss finds herself embroiled in a complex and high-stakes investigation. As Huss and her team begin to uncover the victim’s hidden past, they are dragged into Sweden’s seamy underworld of street gangs, struggling immigrants, and neo-Nazis in order to catch the killer.

Leseprobe
Prologue

NOBODY SAW HIM FALL through the dense November darkness.

With a dull, heavy thud he hit the rain-wet pavement. Even though
it was still rush hour, there were few people on the street. The pedestrians
huddled beneath umbrellas turned inside out and scrunched their
chins into turned-up collars for a little protection from the icy, whipping
rain. Everyone who could was driving a car or jammed into the
steaming warmth aboard a bus or streetcar.

An elderly woman pulling a stubborn, soaking-wet dachshund on
a leash stood closest. The howls that she and the dog uttered announced
to those people in the vicinity that something serious had happened.
Hurrying pedestrians slowed their pace. Curiosity got the upper
hand, and they were drawn toward the site of the accident.

A white Mercedes was carelessly parked by the curb. A man in a
light-colored overcoat had just rushed around the car and opened the
door on the passenger’s side when the lady with the dachshund started
to scream. The man turned quickly, squinted through the rain, and
caught sight of the heap thirty meters away. He kept his grip on the
open car door, slowly tilted his head back, and looked up at the top
floor of the imposing apartment building. A faint moaning sound rose
from his throat, but he remained catatonically still.

Without putting on her coat, the small woman in the passenger’s
seat jumped nimbly out of the car and ran over to the motionless figure
on the ground. Her slenderness was emphasized by the stylish
Chanel dress she was wearing. She had mastered to perfection the art
of running in high heels. She elbowed her way through the crowd frenetically
and reached the inner circle.

Chapter One

THE PATROL CAR WAS the first to arrive on the scene. The ambulance
came a scant five minutes later. As far as the ambulance medics
could tell, there wasn’t much for them to do. The two police officers
attempted to hold back the sensation-hungry spectators wh…