Moon Over Soho

1290
Varastossa
SKU
I was my dad's vinyl-wallah: I changed his records while he lounged around drinking tea, and that's how I know my Argo from my Tempo. And it's why, when Dr Walid called me to the morgue to listen to a corpse, I recognised the tune it was playing. Something violently supernatural had happened to the victim, strong enough to leave its imprint like a wax cylinder recording. Cyrus Wilkinson, part-time jazz saxophonist and full-time accountant, had apparently dropped dead of a heart attack just after finishing a gig in a Soho jazz club. He wasn't the first. No one was going to let me exhume corpses to see if they were playing my tune, so it was back to old-fashioned legwork, starting in Soho, the heart of the scene. I didn't trust the lovely Simone, Cyrus' ex-lover, professional jazz kitten and as inviting as a Rubens' portrait, but I needed her help: there were monsters stalking Soho, creatures feeding off that special gift that separates the great musician from someone who can raise a decent tune. What they take is beauty. What they leave behind is sickness, failure and broken lives. And as I hunted them, my investigation got tangled up in another story: a brilliant trumpet player, Richard 'Lord' Grant - my father - who managed to destroy his own career, twice. That's the thing about policing: most of the time you're doing it to maintain public order. Occasionally you're doing it for justice. And maybe once in a career, you're doing it for revenge.

Huomioithan että saatavuus voi muuttua nopeastikin. Varaa kirja verkosta ja nouda se Helsingin myymälästä.

Tilapäisestä järjestelmäongelmasta johtuen pyydämme ystävällisesti tarkistamaan Tampereen myymälän kirjojen saatavuuden puh numerosta 046 876 1609 tai sähköpostitse tampere@akateeminen.com

Varaa & nouda . Tuote ei ole varattavissa verkon kautta. Tarkista myymäläsaatavuus.
HelsinkiTampereTapiolaTurkuVaasa
I was my dad's vinyl-wallah: I changed his records while he lounged around drinking tea, and that's how I know my Argo from my Tempo. And it's why, when Dr Walid called me to the morgue to listen to a corpse, I recognised the tune it was playing. Something violently supernatural had happened to the victim, strong enough to leave its imprint like a wax cylinder recording. Cyrus Wilkinson, part-time jazz saxophonist and full-time accountant, had apparently dropped dead of a heart attack just after finishing a gig in a Soho jazz club. He wasn't the first. No one was going to let me exhume corpses to see if they were playing my tune, so it was back to old-fashioned legwork, starting in Soho, the heart of the scene. I didn't trust the lovely Simone, Cyrus' ex-lover, professional jazz kitten and as inviting as a Rubens' portrait, but I needed her help: there were monsters stalking Soho, creatures feeding off that special gift that separates the great musician from someone who can raise a decent tune. What they take is beauty. What they leave behind is sickness, failure and broken lives. And as I hunted them, my investigation got tangled up in another story: a brilliant trumpet player, Richard 'Lord' Grant - my father - who managed to destroy his own career, twice. That's the thing about policing: most of the time you're doing it to maintain public order. Occasionally you're doing it for justice. And maybe once in a career, you're doing it for revenge.
Sidosasu
Nidottu
Painos
1st paperback ed
Imprint
Gollancz
ISBN
9780575097629
Kieli
englanti
Sivut
375
Julkaisupäivä
13.10.2011
Sarja
Rivers of London
Sarjan osa
2
Koko
0 x 0 x 2.4 cm
Alaotsikko
The Second PC Grant Mystery
Write Your Own Review
Vain rekisteröityneet käyttäjät voivat kirjoittaa arvosteluja. Ole hyvä ja Kirjaudu sisään tai Luo tili