By Ruth Rendell
Leader Inspector Wexford unearths not anything strange within the disappearance of Rodney Williams, a husband and father who most likely has run off with one other girl. but if the man's vehicle and suitcase are came upon deserted, can a physique be some distance in the back of? Confounded by way of a string of violent stabbings, a strident schoolgirl clique, and the likely placid domesticity of his pals, Wexford's detective instincts needs to take flight with a view to deliver down a murderer.
With a willing wit or even sharper plot, Rendell weaves a suspenseful internet of ever-tangling secrets and techniques, double-crosses, and double-lives.
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Additional info for An Unkindness of Ravens (Inspector Wexford, Book 13)
The voice, no matter how silly, carried a threat I didn’t know how to answer. “I beg your pardon? ” I stalled while my heart raced. ” the now rabid rodent asked. While less threatening than a full-out blackhearted villain, the critter hadn’t yet mastered its audio modulation device. Panicked humor aside, I gave in to a whole-body shiver. ” I asked. “Her brother,” came a deeper, more cavernous voice, followed by a charged pause. ” Deep Throat asked. ” So . . I was hiring an intern I didn’t want, whose brother best aped James Earl Jones and tiny striped rodents.
Eve closed her door but powered down her window. “Please don’t tell Nick about kissing Werner until I get back, ’kay? ” I gave her a dubious look. ” I watched her pout as she drove away. My Out to Lunch sign and the click of the shop lock became an imperative to release my breath. I needed, at the very least, a thimbleful of control and a bit of downtime to sort some sticky issues, Nick being only one of several. I’d barely sat when the shop phone rang. ” “Give me Isobel,” demanded a chipmunk with attitude before he/she/it demonstrated, not quite beneath its breath, an impressive and varied case of potty mouth.
Backpack. Cops found it in a trash can a couple blocks down, everything inside but my train ticket. Doesn’t matter. I had already missed the train. , expecting to connect with me when I boarded here in New York, so she’ll be there before me, like maybe five minutes ago? Be a dear and pick her up at the station, will you? ” “Pick up Isobel now? Bran, this is the middle of my workday. ” “Didn’t I? ” She hung up, just like that, assuming I’d take care of everything. Justified, I acknowledged without guilt the validity of my angst.