Название: The Girl Who Got Revenge: The addictive new crime thriller of 2018
Автор: Marnie Riches
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Полицейские детективы
isbn: 9780008204006
isbn:
Chapter 19: Amstelveen, Tamara’s House, Later
Chapter 20: Police Headquarters, Later Still
Chapter 21: Hoek Van Holland, Stena Line Ferry, That Evening
Chapter 22: Harwich International Port, Then Cambridge, 19 October
Chapter 24: London, a Sandwich Shop in New Cross, Then Aunty Sharon’s House in Catford, 20 October
Chapter 25: The Den Bosch Farm Near Nieuw-Vennep, Then Houses in de Pijp, Later
Chapter 26: The House of Kaars Verhagen, Oud Zuid, Much Later
Chapter 27: South East London, Aunty Sharon’s House, 21 October
Chapter 28: Amsterdam, the House of Kaars Verhagen, 23 October
Chapter 29: En Route to Van Den Bergen’s Apartment, Later
Chapter 30: Van Den Bergen’s Apartment, Minutes Later
Chapter 31: Van Den Bergen’s Apartment, Then an Uber Taxi, Later
Chapter 32: En Route to the Den Bosch Farm, Later
Chapter 33: Den Bosch’s House, de Pijp, Then the Den Bosch Farm Near Nieuw-Vennep, at the Same Time
Chapter 34: The Den Bosch Farm, at the Same Time
Chapter 35: The Den Bosch Farm, at the Same Time
Chapter 36: The Den Bosch Farm, at the Same Time
Chapter 37: The Den Bosch Farm, at the Same Time
Chapter 38: The Den Bosch Farm, Several Minutes Earlier
Chapter 39: Amsterdam, the Onze Lieve Vrouwehospitaal, 24 October
Chapter 40: Amsterdam, Police Headquarters, 31 October
Chapter 41: Amsterdam, Schiphol Airport, Then Police Headquarters, 8 November
Chapter 42: Van Den Bergen’s Apartment, 30 November
Amsterdam, the house of Brechtus Bruin, 2 October
Brechtus Bruin was not aware that the kitchen clock ticking away on the wall was counting down the last few minutes of his ninety-five years. His movements had slowed of late, and now his complexion was noticeably wan and waxy. Perhaps he was finally feeling the poison in his bones that rainy morning. He must surely have been wondering that his shaking, liver-spotted hands wouldn’t obey his still-sharp brain, telling him to pour the coffee.
‘Here, Brechtus. Let me help you. Please.’
His guest had been sitting at a worn Formica table in that homely place, waiting. He had been drinking in the familiar scene of the cramped kitchen with its sticky, terracotta-painted walls. Savouring the stale scent of cakes that had been baked decades ago by Brechtus’s long-dead wife. Now, he stood to take the kettle from the old man.
‘You sit down. I’ve got this. Honestly.’
‘I don’t like people fussing,’ Brechtus said, wiping СКАЧАТЬ