Frances G

When archaeologist Louise Cantor’s son Henrik is found dead in his flat, she refuses to believe it was suicide. Clues that only a mother could detect lead her to believe something more sinister took place. Henrik had kept many things back from her and she is shocked to learn he had contracted HIV. The only lead is a letter and photograph from Henrik’s girlfriend in Mozambique. Louise’s quest to unravel the mystery surrounding her son’s death takes her to Africa.

On New Year’s Day, a wealthy family is found slaughtered inside their exclusive gated community in north London, their youngest child stolen away. The murder weapon is a gun for stunning cattle, leading Detective Max Wolfe to a dusty corner of Scotland Yard’s Black Museum devoted to a killer who thirty years ago was known as the Slaughter Man. But the Slaughter Man is now old and dying. Can he really be back in the game?

Stranded in the Welsh mountains, seven reality show contestants have no idea what they"ve signed up for. Each of these strangers has a secret. If another player can guess the truth, they won"t just be eliminated - they"ll be exposed live on air. The stakes are higher than they"d ever imagined, and they"re trapped. The disappearance of a contestant wasn"t supposed to be part of the drama. Detective Ffion Morgan has to put aside what she"s watched on screen, and find out who these people really are - knowing she can"t trust any of them.

A refugee of the Great War, Poirot is settling in England near Styles Court, the country estate of his wealthy benefactress, the elderly Emily Inglethorp. When Emily is poisoned and the authorities are baffled, Poirot puts his prodigious sleuthing skills to work. Suspects are plentiful, including the victim’s much younger husband, her resentful stepsons, her longtime hired companion, a young family friend working as a nurse, and a London specialist on poisons who just happens to be visiting the nearby village.

Kimmie’s home is on the streets of Copenhagen. To live she must steal. She has learned to avoid the police and never to stay in one place for long. But now others are trying to find her. And they won’t rest until she has stopped moving - for good. Detective Carl of Department Q, the cold cases division, has received a file concerning the brutal murder of a brother and sister 20 years earlier. A group of boarding school students were the suspects at the time - until one of their numbers confessed and was convicted.

It starts with the body of a Hollywood producer in the trunk of a Rolls-Royce, shot twice in the head at close range - what looks like "trunk music", a Mafia hit. But the LAPD"s organized crime unit is curiously uninterested, and when Harry follows a trail of gambling debts to Las Vegas, the case suddenly becomes more complex - and much more personal.

Working on the case, LAPD detective Harry Bosch is reminded of the primal police rule he learned long ago: Don"t look for the facts, but the glue that holds them together. Soon Harry"s making some very dangerous connections, starting with a dead cop and leading to a bloody string of murders that wind from Hollywood Boulevard to the back alleys south of the border.

For maverick LAPD homicide detective Harry Bosch, the body in the drainpipe at Mulholland Dam is more than another anonymous statistic. This one is personal...because the murdered man was a fellow Vietnam "tunnel rat" who had fought side by side with him in a hellish underground war. Now Bosch is about to relive the horror of Nam.

Alice is stifled, bored, and misunderstood. So when she meets wealthy and handsome American, Bennett Van Cleve, she is quickly swept off her feet. Marrying him and moving to America seems like a great adventure - but life as a newlywed in stuffy Baileyville, Kentucky, is not at all what she hoped for. Until, that is, she responds to a call for volunteers to start a travelling library, surprising herself by saying yes, before her husband can say no.

I only try on one of Nina’s pristine white dresses once. Just to see what it’s like. But she soon finds out...and by the time I realize my attic bedroom door only locks from the outside, it’s far too late. But I reassure myself: The Winchesters don’t know who I really am. They don’t know what I’m capable of....