But he couldn't feel self-pity in the face of the memorial. He hadn't lost nearly enough as these children, who'd lost their homeland and, in many cases,their whole families. Perhaps they had gained s...
Waif standing by the seashore on the opposite wall.
Something piqued his curiosity and he wanted to know more. There was no order to it, neither in his mind nor in his filing system. He would plunge into a subject with cavalier disregard for its chrono...
It was the feel of the cigarette between his fingers he wanted, the sharp intake of tobacco smoke into the lungs, not some slow oozing of poison through his skin into his blood. Pity about the health...
ANOTHER TWILIGHTAllow the point of the Croccodrillo its hazy cypress trees in profile Like a rough sketch for the Isle of the Dead, as seen from yellow stucco, his Villa Igea where Lawrence finished S...
Banks felt more alone and further away for having just talked to Sophia than he had before her call. But it was always like that - the telephone might bring you together for a few moments, but there's...
Banks scanned the Yorkshire Post and The Independent reports to see if either newspaper knew more than the police. Sometimes they did, and it could be damned embarrassing all round.
Van Morrison
Sit.
It was hard to imagine that anything terrible could happen on such a fine spring evening, but the activity around the little terrace house in Armley indicated that evil made no allowances for the weat...
Traditional police wisdom has it that if a case doesn’t yield leads in the first twenty-four hours, then everyone is in for a long, tough haul.
Banks smiled. Don't worry, he said it's my balls on the chopping-block, not yours. I'll cover for you. My word on it.Susan smiled back. Well, that's the first time not having any balls has ever done m...
The victim was white, in his early thirties, five feet eleven inches tall, ten and a half stone in weight, and in good physical condition. The last part always irritated Banks: how could a corpse ever...
One half of his face drooping lower than the other, as if it had melted like a Dalí watch.
For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad. But
He had been working at the wall for too long. Why he bothered the Lord only knew. After all, it went nowhere and closed in nothing. His grandfather had been a master waller in the dale, but the skill...
He watched Clint Eastwood for a while. He had never much enjoyed cop films or cop programs on television, but watching right here and now, he could identify with Dirty Harry tracking down the villains...
The whiskey-soaked strains of Cesaria Evora came from the headphones of his portable CD player.
They were the sort of walls that hoarded winter and emanated its chill throughout summer.
Used to write her books.
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