Woman with Birthmark

Zusatztext Nesser's novels look for the roots of crime in the ills of society.... He has seized his chance to create his own dark poetry from these stark materials! and the effect is haunting. The Wall Street Journal Pulling readers' loyalties in different directions.... Woman with Birthmark leaves no doubt that Nesser is a master of suspense. The Sunday Times (London) Taut! fast-paced! and enthralling.... Devotees of Jo Nesbo and Henning Mankell will agree that Nesser belongs in that select circle of A-list Scandinavian crime novelists. Booklist Nesser has written a fascinating study in the psychology of personal suffering.... Another admirably drawn thriller. The Washington Times Informationen zum Autor Håkan Nesser was born in 1950 in Sweden. In 1993 he was awarded the Swedish Crime Writers' Academy Prize for new authors for his novel Mind's Eye , and is the only author to have won the Academy's best novel award three times: in 1994 for Borkmann's Point ; in 1996 for Woman with Birthmark ; and in 2007 for A Rather Different Story . In 1999 he was awarded the Scandinavian Crime Society's Glass Key Award for the best crime novel of the year for Carambole . His novels have been published to wide acclaim in nearly thirty countries. Klappentext International Bestseller Chief Inspector Van Veeteren is on the case once more in this breathless thriller of deception, blackmail, and cold murder. Van Veeteren and his associates are left bewildered by the curious murder of a man shot twice in the heart and twice below the belt. An utterly dull man, the only suspicious activity his surviving wife can report is a series of peculiar phone calls. Repeatedly the telephone would ring, offering no answer but an obscure pop song from the 1960s. This siren song would be linked to an identical murder, but the true connection remains unknown. With a cool, critical eye, Van Veeteren pursues his subject across the country, wading through outrageous leads and fruitless tips in this chilling mystery from master crime novelist Håkan Nesser.1. She felt cold. The day had started with a promising light snowfall, but as lunchtime approached, the strong wind blowing off the sea had turned the precipitation into diagonal, driving rain of the very worst kind. It chilled you to the bone, forced the stall owners down by the harbor to shut up shop hours earlier than usual, and in Zimmermann's bar they were serving about three times as many hot toddies as on a normal December day. To make matters worse, the cemetery was facing southwest, on a gently sloping, treeless hillside, totally exposed to every kind of weather and wind. When the little group finally reached the newly dug, muddy grave, a thought struck her. At least it was sheltered down there. At least you didn't have to take the wind and this damned rain into the grave with you. Every cloud has its silver lining. The clergyman snuffled, and his accompliceor whatever you should call himstruggled with the umbrella. Tried to make it cover both the man in black and himself, but the gusts were capricious and the correct angle shifted from second to second. The bearers dug their heels into the soaking wet soil and started to lower the coffin. Her bouquet on the lid already looked a mess. Like a dollop of vegetables that had boiled for too long. One of the bearers slipped but managed to regain his balance. The clergyman blew his nose and started to read the liturgy. His accomplice fumbled with the spade. The rain grew even worse. It was typical. She couldn't help acknowledging that as she clenched her fists in the pockets of her overcoat and stamped on the ground in an attempt to warm up her feet. Absolutely goddamned typical. A ceremony just as shambolic and undignified as the rest of the dea...

Autorentext

Håkan Nesser was born in 1950 in Sweden. In 1993 he was awarded the Swedish Crime Writers’ Academy Prize for new authors for his novel Mind’s Eye, and is the only author to have won the Academy’s best novel award three times: in 1994 for Borkmann’s Point; in 1996 for Woman with Birthmark; and in 2007 for A Rather Different Story. In 1999 he was awarded the Scandinavian Crime Society’s Glass Key Award for the best crime novel of the year for Carambole. His novels have been published to wide acclaim in nearly thirty countries.

Klappentext

International Bestseller

Chief Inspector Van Veeteren is on the case once more in this breathless thriller of deception, blackmail, and cold murder.

Van Veeteren and his associates are left bewildered by the curious murder of a man shot twice in the heart and twice below the belt. An utterly dull man, the only suspicious activity his surviving wife can report is a series of peculiar phone calls. Repeatedly the telephone would ring, offering no answer but an obscure pop song from the 1960s. This siren song would be linked to an identical murder, but the true connection remains unknown. With a cool, critical eye, Van Veeteren pursues his subject across the country, wading through outrageous leads and fruitless tips in this chilling mystery from master crime novelist Håkan Nesser.

Zusammenfassung
International Bestseller 

Chief Inspector Van Veeteren is on the case once more in this breathless thriller of deception, blackmail, and cold murder.
 
Van Veeteren and his associates are left bewildered by the curious murder of a man shot twice in the heart and twice below the belt. An utterly dull man, the only suspicious activity his surviving wife can report is a series of peculiar phone calls. Repeatedly the telephone would ring, offering no answer but an obscure pop song from the 1960s. This siren song would be linked to an identical murder, but the true connection remains unknown. With a cool, critical eye, Van Veeteren pursues his subject across the country, wading through outrageous leads and fruitless tips in this chilling mystery from master crime novelist Håkan Nesser.

Leseprobe

She felt cold.

The day had started with a promising light snowfall, but as lunchtime approached, the strong wind blowing off the sea had turned the precipitation into diagonal, driving rain of the very worst kind. It chilled you to the bone, forced the stall owners down by the harbor to shut up shop hours earlier than usual, and in Zimmermann’s bar they were serving about three times as many hot toddies as on a normal December day.

To make matters worse, the cemetery was facing southwest, on a gently sloping, treeless hillside, totally exposed to every kind of weather and wind. When the little group finally reached the newly dug, muddy grave, a thought struck her.

At least it was sheltered down there. At least you didn’t have to take the wind and this damned rain into the grave with you. Every cloud has its silver lining.

The clergyman snuffled, and his accomplice—or whatever you should call him—struggled with the umbrella. Tried to make it cover both the man in black and himself, but the gusts were capricious and the correct angle shifted from second to second. The bearers dug their heels into the soaking wet soil and started to lower the coffin. Her bouquet on the lid already looked a mess. Like a dollop of vegetables that had boiled for too long. One of the bearers slipped but managed to regain his balance. The clergyman blew his nose and started to read the liturgy.

His accomplice fumbled with the spade. The rain grew even worse.

It was typical. She couldn’t help acknowledging that as she clenched her fists in the pockets of her overcoat and stamped on the ground in an attempt to warm up her feet.

Absolutely goddamned typical. A ceremony just as shambolic and undignified as the rest of the dead woman’s life had been. So she couldn’t even be granted a decent burial. The day before Christmas Eve…