John McMahon is one of those rare writers who seem to have sprung out of nowhere. His first novel, THE GOOD DETECTIVE (Putnam, ), which is pretty much perfect, features a decent if flawed hero battling personal troubles while occupied with a murder case of great consequence to his community.
The community in question is Mason Falls, a patch of “old Georgia dirt” deep in tobacco country where race relations are stable but could easily be upended by some headline-making atrocity — an act of barbarism like the torture, lynching and murder of a 15-year-old African-American named Kendrick Webster.
Paul Thomas Marsh, who goes by P.T. and narrates his story in cleareyed, cool fashion, is a cop who has lost his wife and only child in a horrific car accident. “Someone came along and took my responsibilities away. Took away my family. And all they left me with was absolute justice” — which he enforces without much regard for the rules. But P.T. is so close to being out of control that when he’s roughing up Virgil Rowe, a “neo-Nazi who beats up strippers,” he almost kills the guy.
Not a good move, since Virgil turns out to be the main suspect in Kendrick’s murder. And a really bad move when Virgil is found dead and P.T.’s fingerprints are all over the place. Surely Virgil was alive when P.T. stormed out. Or was he?
Once in a while that fabled Southern lyricism surfaces (when, say, McMahon offers a glimpse of Spanish moss “that swayed in the morning light like a family of ghosts”), but for the most part his writing is painfully, almost unbearably, matter-of-fact, especially in the interior monologue when Kendrick narrates his own murder. (“He saw the moon. He’d just learned about waxing and waning moons in science, and this was a waxing gibbous. A few days before a full moon.”) And when P.T. finally shakes himself out of his funk and starts policing the region for evidence of a grass-roots militia stirring up racial unrest, the nasty sounds coming out of strip clubs and biker bars are nothing like the sweet, syrupy voices of the Old South.
People everywhere think their next-door neighbor might be a serial killer. What? You say they don’t? Well, it’s a good thing nosy Henrietta Mazur believes the worst of Matthew Dolamore, because her unneighborly hunch galvanizes BEFORE SHE KNEW HIM (Morrow/HarperCollins, .99). Peter Swanson’s neatly knotted suspense story is set in a pleasant Boston suburb where Henrietta and Matthew live side by side with their spouses, the only childless couples on the block.
Not that Hen feels deprived; she loves her work creating “grotesque, surreal tableaus” to illustrate children’s books. (“Hen had always had a morbid streak.”) Matthew is even busier, holding down a day job teaching history while murdering people on the side.
Hen knows that Matthew is a killer, and Matthew knows she knows. (“They had a secret, the two of them.”) But suffering as she does from a sporadically debilitating bipolar disorder, she might become a modern Cassandra, dismissed as an unreliable witness. This can’t end well.
A lot goes on in Washington, D.C., outside the precincts of the White House and Capitol Hill. And that’s what David Swinson writes about in his streetwise private-eye novels featuring Frank Marr, a forcibly retired cop and mostly reformed cocaine addict. TRIGGER (Mulholland, ) finds Marr on another thankless case, trying to clear a close friend on the D.C. police force who’s been accused of shooting an unarmed teenager.
This is the kind of investigation that takes Marr away from tourist spots and into tough neighborhoods where he mingles with foulmouthed punks who are a lot more interesting to read about than politicians. “I’ve been known to go rogue,” Marr admits, an understatement from someone who works well outside the law. This is a guy who lies, steals, bullies people and has tossed his share of mistakes into the Potomac. “I have to admit, only to myself, that I love when something like that happens,” he acknowledges. “It gives me an adrenaline boost, a bit like coke.”
As scenic murders go, it’s hard to beat the dead man floating in the swimming pool of Le Chant d’Eau, a stone farmhouse hilltop-high in DEATH IN PROVENCE (Harper, .99). Plot and characters pale beside the setting of this first mystery by Serena Kent, the nom de plume of the husband-and-wife team of Robert Rees and Deborah Lawrenson.
Newly divorced and determined to dodge grandmother duties back home in England, Penelope Kite impulsively buys a rundown property overlooking the Luberon Valley, thus providing steady work for every craftsman in the region.
Penelope faithfully performs the duties of all such conventional heroines, meeting her colorful neighbors, visiting the markets, sampling the cuisine, exploring the historical attractions and proving herself a better detective than the local gendarmerie. Formulaic? You bet. But who could resist a vacation in Provence?B:
海南琼中特色菜肴小吃“……”【凌】【安】【琪】【握】【紧】【筷】【子】：“【这】【么】【玩】【我】，【你】【就】【不】【怕】【我】【生】【气】【么】？” “【怕】”【简】【单】【明】【了】【的】【一】【个】【字】。【但】【之】【后】【也】【没】【见】【他】【把】【甜】【点】【再】【重】【新】【推】【过】【来】。 【很】【好】，【凌】【安】【琪】【给】【他】【一】【个】‘【你】【真】【棒】’【的】【眼】【神】。【等】【吃】【完】【饭】【回】【家】【之】【后】，【你】【就】【等】【着】【瞧】【吧】！ …… 【吃】【完】【饭】，【凌】【安】【琪】【的】【妈】【妈】【又】【留】【着】**【若】【一】【块】【聊】【天】，【话】【里】【话】【外】【的】【都】【是】【说】【两】【人】【已】【经】【老】【大】
【收】【回】【思】【绪】，【周】【福】【就】【不】【再】【多】【想】【了】，【只】【紧】【跟】【着】【皇】【上】【旁】【边】，【朝】【着】【紫】【宸】【殿】【的】【方】【向】【而】【去】。 【清】【晨】，【天】【刚】【刚】【大】【亮】，【整】【个】【皇】【宫】【就】【沸】【腾】【了】【起】【来】，【三】【两】【个】【结】【群】【成】【伴】【的】【宫】【女】【太】【监】，【嘁】【嘁】【喳】【喳】【的】【八】【卦】【着】【今】【日】【的】【最】【火】【爆】【话】【题】！ “【听】【说】【了】【吗】，【明】【月】【阁】【里】【今】【日】【记】【档】【案】【了】！” “【记】【档】【案】【是】【什】【么】？” “【你】【笨】【啊】，【内】【务】【府】【里】【有】【一】【个】【档】【案】，【专】【门】【负】
“【这】【到】【底】【是】【怎】【么】【回】【事】？“【霍】【时】【凝】【皱】【起】【眉】【头】 【就】【在】【此】【时】【肩】【膀】【上】【的】【松】【树】【开】【始】【呜】【呜】【呜】【的】【哭】【了】【起】【来】，【它】【一】【边】【哭】【一】【边】【说】：“【姆】【妈】【就】【快】【死】【了】。” 【不】【等】【霍】【时】【凝】【出】【生】【询】【问】，【之】【间】【天】【边】【突】【然】【出】【现】【一】【团】【霞】【光】【以】【极】【快】【的】【速】【度】【朝】【着】【这】【里】【飞】【驰】【而】【来】。 【之】【后】【她】【就】【看】【见】【霞】【光】【之】【中】【隐】【隐】【约】【约】【出】【现】【了】【一】【个】【人】【影】。 【接】【着】【霞】【光】【落】【地】，【一】【个】【人】【跌】【跌】【撞】【撞】
【奥】【托】【有】【些】【惊】【讶】，【向】【托】【马】【西】【斯】【询】【问】【道】：“【他】【们】【这】【是】？” “【笼】【子】【里】【装】【的】【是】【精】【灵】，【从】【北】【方】【来】【的】【精】【灵】【通】【常】【可】【以】【买】【个】【好】【价】【钱】。”【托】【马】【西】【斯】【低】【声】【解】【释】，“【不】【过】【这】【种】【买】【卖】【在】【市】【面】【上】【是】【被】【禁】【止】【的】，【这】【人】【估】【计】【准】【备】【拿】【到】【隐】【秘】【市】【场】【上】【交】【易】。” “【隐】【秘】【市】【场】？【那】【是】【什】【么】？” 【尖】【啸】【声】【越】【来】【越】【近】，【奥】【托】【看】【着】【地】【图】，【对】【方】【是】【从】【小】【镇】【中】【心】【的】【方】
【然】【后】【宋】【凉】【荷】【发】【现】，【那】【个】【东】【西】，【似】【乎】【是】【一】【面】【看】【起】【来】【非】【常】【光】【洁】【的】【镜】【子】，【仔】【细】【一】【砍】【的】【话】，【会】【觉】【得】【这】【个】【看】【起】【来】【像】【是】【镜】【子】【一】【样】【的】【东】【西】，【似】【乎】【这】【样】【看】【起】【来】【的】【话】，【好】【像】【是】【显】【得】【有】【点】【高】【级】【的】【样】【子】，【而】【且】，【看】【起】【来】【这】【个】【东】【西】，【就】【很】【像】【一】【个】【精】【致】【的】【女】【生】【拥】【有】【的】【一】【个】【精】【致】【的】【镜】【子】【那】【样】，【可】【以】【说】【一】【个】【很】【好】【看】【的】【像】【是】【镜】【子】【一】【样】【的】【东】【西】【了】，【但】【是】，【宋】【凉】【荷】海南琼中特色菜肴小吃“【睡】【觉】。”【沐】【宛】【宛】【被】【这】【么】【一】【闹】，【突】【然】【困】【得】【要】【死】。 “【好】，【睡】【觉】。”【看】【着】【她】【这】【个】【样】【子】，【莫】【名】【的】【明】【夜】【没】【有】【继】【续】【吵】【下】【去】，【而】【是】【把】【沐】【宛】【宛】【抱】【在】【怀】【里】【面】，【然】【后】【两】【个】【人】【就】【这】【样】【继】【续】【睡】【觉】。 【经】【过】【刚】【才】【的】【那】【一】【次】，【现】【在】【沐】【宛】【宛】【已】【经】【习】【惯】【被】【明】【夜】【的】【当】【抱】【枕】【了】。 【明】【夜】【虽】【然】【闭】【上】【了】【眼】【睛】，【但】【是】【却】【没】【有】【睡】【着】。【因】【为】【他】【在】【想】【这】【起】【车】【祸】【的】【幕】【后】
“【好】，【既】【然】【新】【郎】【和】【新】【娘】【这】【样】【彼】【此】【相】【爱】，【那】【么】【他】【们】【今】【天】【结】【为】【了】【夫】【妻】【又】【可】【以】【说】【是】【两】【个】【家】【庭】【结】【了】【盟】，【接】【下】【来】【我】【们】【听】【听】【家】【里】【人】【要】【怎】【么】【说】。 【首】【先】【掌】【声】【有】【请】【新】【郎】【官】【的】【外】【公】【霍】【老】【爷】【子】。” 【外】【公】【今】【日】【西】【装】【革】【履】【也】【分】【外】【的】【精】【神】。 【他】【站】【上】【台】，【看】【着】【苏】【梅】【和】【霍】【立】【骁】【满】【眼】【笑】【意】，“【今】【天】【是】【我】【最】【疼】【爱】【的】【外】【孙】【立】【骁】【的】【婚】【礼】，【作】【为】【我】【来】【说】【说】【啊】
【本】【书】【烂】…【咳】，【完】【本】【了】。 【写】【在】【完】【本】【感】【言】【之】【前】，【为】【何】【这】【几】【天】【没】【有】【更】【新】。 【主】【要】【是】【这】【几】【天】，【我】【在】【看】【自】【己】【写】【的】【这】【几】【十】【万】【字】，【想】【看】【看】【还】【能】【不】【能】【再】【拯】【救】。 【之】【所】【以】【没】【有】【开】【单】【章】【说】，【是】【不】【想】【给】【一】【些】【还】【喜】【欢】【本】【书】【的】【读】【者】【希】【望】，【到】【时】【候】【像】【现】【在】【看】【到】【完】【本】【感】【言】【这】【四】【个】【字】，【估】【计】【要】【把】【我】【喷】【的】【体】【无】【完】【肤】。 【但】【看】【了】【两】【遍】【后】，【发】【现】【书】【确】【实】【已】
【时】【光】【辗】【转】，【岁】【月】【流】【逝】，【人】【世】【间】【早】【就】【不】【知】【道】【过】【去】【了】【多】【少】【年】。 【只】【记】【得】【阴】【界】【地】【府】【的】【日】【子】【日】【复】【一】【日】，【奈】【何】【桥】【上】【的】【魂】【灵】【走】【了】【一】【批】【又】【来】【一】【批】。 【唯】【一】【不】【变】【的】，【只】【有】【恒】【古】【流】【淌】【的】【忘】【川】【河】，【屹】【立】【不】【倒】【的】【奈】【何】【桥】【以】【及】【桥】【上】【的】【孟】【婆】【和】【孟】【婆】【汤】。 【奈】【何】【桥】【沿】【上】【的】【灯】【火】【亮】【起】【来】【的】【时】【候】，【黑】【白】【无】【常】【又】【带】【了】【一】【批】【魂】【灵】【回】【来】。 【他】【们】【依】【照】【顺】【序】【在】
【我】【有】【一】【个】【朋】【友】…… 【咳】【咳】！ 【一】【个】【和】【我】【一】【起】【玩】【守】【望】【先】【锋】【的】【朋】【友】【开】【新】【书】【了】，【目】【前】【已】【经】【把】【签】【约】【合】【同】【给】【寄】【出】【去】【了】，【大】【家】【可】【以】【去】【看】【一】【下】【投】【个】【资】【瓜】【分】【一】【下】【奖】【池】，【大】【概】【也】【能】【领】【个】【几】【百】【起】【点】【币】【吧】。 【书】【名】：【灵】【气】【复】【苏】【在】【末】【日】 【简】【介】：【在】【张】【阳】【十】【八】【岁】【生】【日】【那】【天】，【他】【收】【到】【了】【两】【年】【未】【见】【的】【姐】【姐】【从】【军】【校】【寄】【来】【的】【礼】【物】。 【这】【一】【天】【注】【定】【是】【不】