By John Lescroart

The New York Times bestselling author's chip-off-the-old Sherlock-back in print!

The “reliably excellent”* John Lescroart bargains an engrossing ancient secret that takes us to a small French city at nighttime days of global warfare I—where the rumor is that Auguste Lupa is the son of the best detective of all time. And his mysterious legacy may perhaps come to mild as he makes an attempt to resolve the baffling homicide of an intelligence agent…

 

*Publishers Weekly

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He nodded. “Will Lupa be there? ” “Yes. Do you believe him? ” “I’d be mendacity if I acknowledged I didn’t. How good did he recognize Marcel? ” I laughed. “You taking into consideration becoming a member of the police strength? ” He smiled weakly. “You’re right,” he stated. “I’m sorry, yet it’s simply that you simply get to suspecting all people. yet how good are you aware him? ” “Fairly good. ” “All correct. Renee! ” he yelled unexpectedly. “The onions are burning. ” His spouse got here again into the room, apologetic. It was once the 1st time I’d obvious her with out tears in her eyes. She used to be beautiful in a tricky kind of way—the form of lady I’d anticipate Henri to be with—short, darkish, buxom, subservient. She stood silently via the range, stirring with a practiced rhythm. “It may well do you reliable to head right down to the store,” I instructed. “Take your brain off issues. ” I hadn’t touched my drink. I provided it to him. He drank it off in a gulp. “Let’s go,” he acknowledged. at the staircase, we stopped back. “If it’s any consolation,” I stated, “no one got here through to work out both Tania or myself final evening. might be you’ll haven't any extra difficulty with him. ” That looked as if it would make him anxious once more. “He acknowledged he’d be again right here this morning. ” “Well, morning’s approximately gone,” I acknowledged. “What time did you run into him final evening? ” “Early. Seven or part previous. ” “What time did you come again together with your spouse? ” “A few hours after that,” he acknowledged. “I walked round for your time, simply considering. ” We entered the store and he known as out instantly to his son. “Henri, get these crates in line! And cling that new garlic! ” He became speedy to me. “Good-bye, Jules, and thanks. I’ll tell you approximately subsequent week. ” Then one other purchaser entered, and Henri brushed his palms opposed to his apron and greeted him, as if he didn’t have a fear on the earth. outdoors, it was once vibrant and hot. Henri lived off the most course, so I needed to stroll your time to get to a thoroughfare the place i'll trap a hansom again to my condominium. I’d came upon his position stuffy with the odor of grease and onions, and the jogging made me choose to cease for a lager. A boy glided by with a few overdue variants of the newspaper, and awaiting my beer to reach, I idly learn the scoop from front. I leaned again and cozy, reminding myself that Henri’s eldest son shared his identify, and thinking about if Henri will be persuaded to return subsequent Wednesday. yet the place, it appeared, used to be an issue. perhaps Lupa might have a guideline. I grew to become the pages of the magazine, coming finally to neighborhood information. Then I iced over, my beer midway to my mouth. I placed the beer down and checked out the small heading on the backside of the web page. the object read:INVESTIGATOR KILLED Police this morning chanced on the physique of designated investigator J. Chatelet, forty six, close to the outskirts of Valence. The physique lay simply off the line, in part hid in a clump of timber. Chatelet have been with the police for ten years, the previous 5 as an undercover (plainclothes) investigator. He looked as if it would were strangled final evening after having been attacked from at the back of. The physique was once nonetheless armed. He have been investigating the hot homicide of Marcel Routier, a Valence salesman.

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