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Zusatztext Praise for Detective Inspector Huss “An absorbing! intelligent mystery that holds its own alongside the best feminine hardboiled novels currently being written.” —Maureen Corrigan! The Washington Post Book World “Add the voice of Helene Tursten to the list of mystery writers who know how to craft a truly satisfying police procedural.” — The Philadelphia Inquirer “[Tursten] imbues this novel with a cold chill of dread that can’t be attributed only to the subfreezing temperatures of Göteborg in winter.” — Chicago Sun-Times “An intriguing portrait of the workings of a murder squad as well as modern Swedish life.” — Portsmouth Herald Informationen zum Autor Helene Tursten was a nurse and a dentist before she turned to writing. Other books in the Irene Huss series include Night Rounds , The Torso , The Glass Devil , The Golden Calf , The Beige Man , and The Treacherous Net . She was born in Göteborg, Sweden, where she now lives with her husband and daughter. Klappentext Inspector Irene Huss! stationed in Goteborg! is called through the rain-drenched wintry streets to the scene of an apparent suicide. The dead man landed on the sidewalk in front of his luxurious duplex apartment. He was a wealthy financier connected! through an old-boys' network! with the first families of Sweden. But the "Society Suicide" turns out to have been a carefully plotted murder. As more murders ensue! she tangles with street gang members! skinheads! immigrants and neo-Nazis--a cross-section of Sweden's disaffected--in order to catch the killer. Prologue NOBODY SAW HIM FALL through the dense November darkness. With a dull, heavy thud he hit the rain-wet pavement. Even though it was still rush hour, there were few people on the street. The pedestrians huddled beneath umbrellas turned inside out and scrunched their chins into turned-up collars for a little protection from the icy, whipping rain. Everyone who could was driving a car or jammed into the steaming warmth aboard a bus or streetcar. An elderly woman pulling a stubborn, soaking-wet dachshund on a leash stood closest. The howls that she and the dog uttered announced to those people in the vicinity that something serious had happened. Hurrying pedestrians slowed their pace. Curiosity got the upper hand, and they were drawn toward the site of the accident. A white Mercedes was carelessly parked by the curb. A man in a light-colored overcoat had just rushed around the car and opened the door on the passenger’s side when the lady with the dachshund started to scream. The man turned quickly, squinted through the rain, and caught sight of the heap thirty meters away. He kept his grip on the open car door, slowly tilted his head back, and looked up at the top floor of the imposing apartment building. A faint moaning sound rose from his throat, but he remained catatonically still. Without putting on her coat, the small woman in the passenger’s seat jumped nimbly out of the car and ran over to the motionless figure on the ground. Her slenderness was emphasized by the stylish Chanel dress she was wearing. She had mastered to perfection the art of running in high heels. She elbowed her way through the crowd frenetically and reached the inner circle. Chapter One THE PATROL CAR WAS the first to arrive on the scene. The ambulance came a scant five minutes later. As far as the ambulance medics could tell, there wasn’t much for them to do. The two police officers attempted to hold back the sensation-hungry spectators who suddenly were stoic enough to defy both wind and rain. One of the officers got into the car and called for backup. “Send the crime scene team to the corner of...
