By Ake Edwardson, Ken Schubert
The debut mystery within the across the world acclaimed sequence? to be had for the 1st time within the United States
A long-time number 1 bestseller in his local Sweden, Åke Edwardson?s profile used to be conspicuously raised while his novel Frozen Tracks used to be selected as a finalist for a 2008 Los Angeles Times publication Prize. previously, even though, the unconventional that introduced Edwardson?s severely acclaimed Erik iciness sequence hasn't ever been to be had within the usa. With a brand new sequence translator who absolutely captures Edwardson?s signature atmospheric type, Death Angels is America?s advent to Sweden?s youngest leader Inspector as he groups up with Scotland backyard to unravel the mysterious parallel killings of younger British and Swedish travelers. Richly evocative of mid-nineties South London and Gothenburg, Sweden, Death Angels is a superb commencing to a enchanting sequence that has develop into a phenomenon in overseas crime fiction.
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Additional info for Chief Inspector Erik Winter, Death Angels
He knew what was happening to him. He tried to make his way toward the south wall of the room, but the gesture was mostly in his mind, and when he raised his head to see where the sound was coming from . . Once more he felt the coldness between his shoulders and down his back, followed by the heat. He slipped and struck his hip as he fell, then slid along the floor. He heard a voice. There’s a voice inside me, he thought, and it’s calling to me, and the voice is me. I know what’s happening to me.
You can’t just crawl out and lunge at him, he thought. He’ll wring your neck before you’re halfway out. He heard a rattling sound and a series of cell phone beeps. ” I can’t bear this much longer, he thought. “Right . . Absolutely . . No way . . That’s why I came back . . Okay . . Ten minutes . . No . . I had a little chat with him . . Celluloid . . Hmm . . No . . Hmm . . Yep . . ” The rattling sound again, and the shoes stood still with their toes pointing straight at him. What next?
He waited for the psalms to die down inside his head and then asked for a cup of coffee. A man took the seat next to him. Winter sat up and unfurled his long frame. “Bertil Ringmar, of all people. ” Winter motioned to a waitress. ” The waitress took Winter’s order in silence, her face oddly transparent in the sunlight. Winter couldn’t tell whether she was looking at him or at the church tower of the receding village. He wondered if you could hear the bells chime when you were on the opposite shore, or on the ferry when it was heading toward the island.