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Zusatztext "One of George's best... insightful! tense and compassionate."— Entertainment Weekly " Deception on His Mind falls smartly into place in [George's] literate! impassioned series! one of today's best."— Chicago Tribune "Typically extravagant: long on ambition! long on characterization...it's tough to resist the pull of George's storytelling once hooked."— USA Today "So much fun to read! it's criminal."— Newsday Informationen zum Autor Elizabeth George Klappentext NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • "One of George's best . . . insightful, tense, and compassionate."-Entertainment Weekly Balford-le-Nez is a dying seaside town on the coast of Essex. But when a member of the town's small but growing Asian community is found murdered near its beach, the sleepy town ignites. Intrigued by the involvement of her London neighbor-Taymullah Azhar-in what appears to be a growing racial conflagration, Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers arranges to have herself assigned to the investigation. Setting out on her own, this is one case Havers will have to solve without her longtime partner, Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley- and it's one of the toughest she's ever encountered. For Havers must probe not only the mind of a murderer and her emotional response to a case unsettlingly close to her own heart, but also the terrible price people pay for deceiving others . . . and themselves. Praise for Deception on His Mind "So much fun to read, it's criminal."-Newsday "It's tough to resist the pull of George's storytelling once hooked."-USA Today "Falls smartly into place in [George's] literate, impassioned series, one of today's best."-Chicago Tribune "Fascinating . . . there are wrenching stories here, and George conveys them with exceptional grace."-PeopleTo Ian Armstrong, life had begun its current downward slide the moment he'd been made redundant. He'd known when he'd been offered the job that it was only a temporary appointment. The advertisement he'd answered had not indicated otherwise, and no offer of a contract had ever been made him. Still, when two years passed without a whisper of unemployment in the offing, Ian had unwisely learned to hope, which hadn't been much of a good idea. Ian's penultimate foster mother would have greeted the news of his job loss by munching on a shortbread finger and proclaiming, "Well, you can't change the wind, can you, my lad? When it blows over cow dung, a wise man holds his nose." She would have poured tepid tea into a glass--she never used a teacup--and she would have sloshed it down. She would have gone on to say, "Ride the horse that's got its saddle on, lad," and she would have returned to perusing her latest copy of Hello!, admiring its photos of well-groomed nobs living the good life in posh London flats and on country estates. This would be her way of telling Ian to accept his fate, her unsubtle message that the good life was not for the likes of him. But Ian had never aspired to the good life. All he'd ever sought was acceptance, and he pursued it with the passion of an unadopted and unadoptable child. What he wanted was simple: a wife, a family, and the security of knowing that he had a future somewhat more promising than the grimness of his past. These objectives had once seemed possible. He'd been good at his job. He'd arrived for work early every day. He'd laboured extra hours for no extra pay. He'd learned the names of all his fellow workers. He'd even gone so far as to memorise the names of their spouses and children, which was no mean feat. And the thanks he'd garnered for all this effort was a farewell office party drinking lukewarm Squash, and a box of handkerchiefs from a Tie Rack outlet. Ian had tried to forestall and even to prevent the inevitable. He'd pointed out the services he'd rendered, the late hou...
