By Charles Todd
Unhealed scars of the nice battle nonetheless torment Scotland backyard Inspector Ian Rutledge, and he incorporates with him the presence of the soldier he was once compelled to execute in the course of conflict. A haunted, broken shell of a guy, he has been despatched to the small coastal city of Hampton Regis to unravel a violent crime and to confront his personal tragic past.
An officer who served with Rutledge within the trenches of France earlier than being despatched again to England lower than suspicious situations has now been accused of savagely beating the husband of the girl he nonetheless loves. The suspect has taken the spouse hostage, threatening to kill her and her maid except Rutledge is installed cost of the research. even supposing the case painfully mirrors Rutledge's personal prior and the affection he misplaced to a different guy, he can't refuse it. whilst the subconscious brutalized sufferer vanishes and not using a hint, it's transparent that this peaceable little city hides a vicious assassin . . . and secrets and techniques robust adequate to kill for.
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Additional resources for A False Mirror (Inspector Ian Rutledge Mystery, Book 9)
He pulled a panatela out of a desk drawer, unwrapped, bit off the end and spit it into the wastebasket. ” I said, “Mr. Walkie-Talkie intrigues me. Not a friendly sort. ” “Or his charge was the person she was waiting for and he’d slipped away to attend to the boss. Someone she was eager to be with from the way she kept looking at her watch. ” “Girl in designer duds and a diamond watch wouldn’t hang with Joe Sixpack. ” “And Black Suit could’ve chauffeured the two of them—his clothes would fit a driver, too.
It’s not that she projected vulnerability—maybe she did. She also looked like someone who should be famous but neither of us could place her. She kept checking her watch but when we left no one had showed up. And Mr. ” He pulled out his pad. ” I told him and he scrawled. “The waiter might know if anyone showed up. He was paying pretty close attention to her. Some temp named Neil. ” “I don’t know. ” “Her clothes and the watch say she was way out of his league but some guys don’t convince easily.
Thirties, tall, broad, with short yellow hair, he flashed us a slit-eyed appraisal before returning to watching the empty street. His suit was black and it draped his bulk uneasily. An interesting bulge swelled his breast pocket, a spiral cord ran from an earpiece down the back of his collar. ” I said, “Good question. ” “Some flies are kept like pets. ” Something made me turn back to Mr. Black Suit. His head jerked away quickly and he studied the sidewalk; he’d been watching us. Despite the theatrical apathy, his shoulders were tight, his profile less animate than Rushmore.