Lighthouse (eBook)

P. D. James (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2008 | 1. Auflage
336 Seiten
Faber & Faber (Verlag)
978-0-571-24704-2 (ISBN)

Infos

THE MULTIMILLION-COPY BESTSELLING ADAM DALGLIESH SERIES FROM THE 'QUEEN OF ENGLISH CRIME' (Guardian) 'A legend.' VAL MCDERMID 'P. D. James took the classic crime novel and turned up the dial.' MICK HERRON 'A whodunit which takes murder seriously.' GUARDIAN PERFECT FOR FANS OF VAL MCDERMID, RUTH RENDELL AND ELLY GRIFFITHS __________________________________________________________________________________ He thought of Combe as a place of violent emotions - of danger. Combe Island, off the Cornish coast, is a restful retreat for the rich and powerful - until one of its distinguished visitors is murdered, and the peace of the island is shattered. Commander Adam Dalgliesh is called in to solve the mystery quickly and discreetly, but at a difficult time for him and his depleted team. No sooner have they begun to unravel the complicated motives of the suspects when there is a second brutal killing. But there is another danger just as insidious and potentially as fatal as murder on the island, which puts Dalgliesh at even greater risk . . . __________________________________________________________________________________ 'P. D. James on top form . . . you will love it.' Spectator 'Outstanding in characterisation and the plot is crafted with consummate skill. The setting was idyllic and chilling at the same time. . . Gripping and a rewarding read. Brilliant.' 5* reader review 'James's precision can be as deftly murderous as the weapons her killers wield.'New York Times **Now a major Channel 5 series** __________________________________________________________________________________ READERS LOVE THE ADAM DALGLEISH SERIES: 'Adam Dalgleish is one of the best characters in modern detective fiction.' 5* reader review 'If you are not already an Adam Dalgliesh fan, I urge you to become one . . . James can describe a scene or delineate a character with precision and depth, like no other writer I have read . . . I usually stay up all night to read a P. D. James novel once I start one.' 5* reader review 'I would never give less than 5 stars to any P. D. James book. She is one of a kind, always constant, always wonderful writing, always great characters, and always a good mystery that you cannot put down.' 5* reader review 'P.D. James writes mysteries for ordinary people. Her characters are relatable and her hero is dynamic. But don't expect cell phones or computers. Her stories are strictly old school, which is what I love about them.' 5* reader review 'Crime writing at its very best!' 5* reader review PRAISE FOR P. D. JAMES: 'P. D. James is the crème de la crème of crime writers. Her books are shrewd puzzles, full of wit and depth.' IAN RANKIN 'Nobody can put the reader in the eye of the storm quite like P. D. James.' SUNDAY EXPRESS 'One of the literary greats. Her sense of place was exquisite, characterisation and plotting unrivalled.' MARI HANNAH 'James manages a depth and intelligence that few in her trade can match.'THE TIMES 'There are very few thriller writers who can compete with P. D. James at her best.' SPECTATOR 'The queen of English crime.' GUARDIAN

P. D. James (1920-2014) was a bestselling and internationally acclaimed crime writer best known for her books starring poet-detective Adam Dalgliesh. She wrote nineteen novels as well as several short story collections and works of non-fiction. Her work has been translated into thirty-six languages, and has sold millions of copies worldwide. Among many international prizes, awards and honours, she received the highest honours in both British and American crime writing: the CWA Diamond Dagger for a lifetime contribution to the genre, and the Mystery Writers of America Grandmaster Award. She was inducted into the Crime Writing Hall of Fame in 2008. Beyond her writing, she worked in the National Health Service and then in the Home Office for over thirty years, first in the Police Department and later in the Criminal Policy Department, and made use of all this experience in her novels. She served as president of the Society of Authors for sixteen years, and was a Fellow of both the Royal Society of Literature and of the Royal Society of Arts. In 1983 she was awarded an OBE, and she was made a life peer in 1991. She died in 2014.

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THE MULTIMILLION-COPY BESTSELLING ADAM DALGLIESH SERIES FROM THE 'QUEEN OF ENGLISH CRIME' (Guardian)'A legend.' VAL MCDERMID'P. D. James took the classic crime novel and turned up the dial.' MICK HERRON'A whodunit which takes murder seriously.' GUARDIANPERFECT FOR FANS OF VAL MCDERMID, RUTH RENDELL AND ELLY GRIFFITHS__________________________________________________________________________________He thought of Combe as a place of violent emotions - of danger. Combe Island, off the Cornish coast, is a restful retreat for the rich and powerful - until one of its distinguished visitors is murdered, and the peace of the island is shattered. Commander Adam Dalgliesh is called in to solve the mystery quickly and discreetly, but at a difficult time for him and his depleted team. No sooner have they begun to unravel the complicated motives of the suspects when there is a second brutal killing. But there is another danger just as insidious and potentially as fatal as murder on the island, which puts Dalgliesh at even greater risk . . . __________________________________________________________________________________'P. D. James on top form . . . you will love it.' Spectator'Outstanding in characterisation and the plot is crafted with consummate skill. The setting was idyllic and chilling at the same time. . . Gripping and a rewarding read. Brilliant.' 5* reader review'James's precision can be as deftly murderous as the weapons her killers wield.'New York Times**Now a major Channel 5 series**__________________________________________________________________________________READERS LOVE THE ADAM DALGLEISH SERIES:'Adam Dalgleish is one of the best characters in modern detective fiction.' 5* reader review'If you are not already an Adam Dalgliesh fan, I urge you to become one . . . James can describe a scene or delineate a character with precision and depth, like no other writer I have read . . . I usually stay up all night to read a P. D. James novel once I start one.' 5* reader review'I would never give less than 5 stars to any P. D. James book. She is one of a kind, always constant, always wonderful writing, always great characters, and always a good mystery that you cannot put down.' 5* reader review'P.D. James writes mysteries for ordinary people. Her characters are relatable and her hero is dynamic. But don't expect cell phones or computers. Her stories are strictly old school, which is what I love about them.' 5* reader review'Crime writing at its very best!' 5* reader reviewPRAISE FOR P. D. JAMES:'P. D. James is the creme de la creme of crime writers. Her books are shrewd puzzles, full of wit and depth.' IAN RANKIN'Nobody can put the reader in the eye of the storm quite like P. D. James.' SUNDAY EXPRESS'One of the literary greats. Her sense of place was exquisite, characterisation and plotting unrivalled.' MARI HANNAH'James manages a depth and intelligence that few in her trade can match.'THE TIMES'There are very few thriller writers who can compete with P. D. James at her best.' SPECTATOR'The queen of English crime.' GUARDIAN

Autor

P.D. James served in the forensic and criminal justice departments of the Home Office until her retirement in 1979. She was made a Life Peer in 1991. Her detective novels include Cover Her Face, An Unsuitable Job for a Woman, Death of an Expert Witness, A Taste for Death, Original Sin, A Certain Justice, Death in Holy Orders and The Murder Room. Many of them have been adapted for television. Her autobiography Time to be in Earnest appeared in 1991.

Textauszug

1

Commander Adam Dalgliesh was not unused to being urgently summoned to non-scheduled meetings with unspecified people at inconvenient times, but usually with one purpose in common: he could be confident that somewhere there lay a dead body awaiting his attention. There were other urgent calls, other meetings, sometimes at the highest level. Dalgliesh, as a permanent ADC to the Commissioner, had a number of functions which, as they grew in number and importance, had become so ill-defined that most of his colleagues had given up trying to define them. But this meeting, called in Assistant Commissioner Harkness’s office on the seventh floor of New Scotland Yard at ten fifty-five on the morning of Saturday, 23 October, had, from his first entry into the room, the unmistakable presaging of murder. This had nothing to do with a certain serious tension on the faces turned towards him; a departmental debacle would have caused greater concern. It was rather that unnatural death always provoked a peculiar unease, an uncomfortable realisation that there were still some things that might not be susceptible to bureaucratic control.

There were only three men awaiting him and Dalgliesh was surprised to see Alexander Conistone of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. He liked Conistone, who was one of the few eccentrics remaining in an increasingly conformist and politicised service. Conistone had acquired a reputation for crisis management. This was partly founded on his belief that there was no emergency that was not amenable to precedent or departmental regulations but, when these orthodoxies failed, he could reveal a dangerous capacity for imaginative initiatives which, by any bureaucratic logic, deserved to end in disaster but never did. Dalgliesh, for whom few of the labyrinths of Westminster bureaucracy were wholly unfamiliar, had earlier decided that this dichotomy of character was inherited. Generations of Conistones had been soldiers. The foreign fields of Britain’s imperialistic past were enriched by the bodies of unmemorialised victims of previous Conistones’ crises management. Even his eccentric appearance reflected a personal ambiguity. Alone among his colleagues he dressed with the careful pinstriped conformity of a civil servant of the Thirties while, with his strong bony face, mottled cheeks and hair with the resilient waywardness of straw, he looked like a farmer.

He was seated next to Dalgliesh opposite one of the wide windows. Having sat through the first ten minutes of the present meeting with an unusual economy of words, he sat, his chair a little tilted, complacently surveying the panorama of towers and spires, lit by a transitory unseasonable morning sun. Of the four men in the room – Conistone, Adam Dalgliesh, Assistant Commissioner Harkness and a fresh-faced boy from MI5 who had been introduced as Colin Reeves – Conistone, the one most concerned with the matter in hand, had so far said the least while Reeves, preoccupied with the effort of remembering what was being said without the humiliating expedient of being seen to take notes, hadn’t yet spoken. Now Conistone stirred himself for a summing up.

‘Murder would be the most embarrassing for us, suicide hardly less so in the circumstances. Accidental death we could probably live with. Given the victim, there’s bound to be publicity whichever it is, but it should be manageable unless this is murder. The problem is that we haven’t much time. No date has been fixed yet, but the PM would like to arrange this top-secret international get-together in early January. A good time. Parliament not sitting, nothing much happens just after Christmas, nothing is expected to happen. The PM seems to have set his mind on Combe. So you’ll take on the case, Adam? Good.’

Before Dalgliesh could reply, Harkness broke in, ‘The security rating, if it comes off, couldn’t be higher.’

Dalgliesh thought, And even if you’re in the know, which I doubt, you have no intention of telling me who will be meeting at this top-secret conference, or why. Security was always on a need-to-know basis. He could make his guesses, but had no particular curiosity. On the other hand, he was being asked to investigate a violent death and there were things he needed to be told.

Before Colin Reeves had time to realise that this was his cue to intervene, Conistone said, ‘All that will be taken care of, of course. We’re not expecting problems. There was a similar situation some years ago – before your time, Harkness – when a VIP politician thought he’d like a respite from his protection officer and booked two weeks on Combe. The visitor stood the silence and solitude for two days before realising that his life was meaningless without his red boxes. I should have thought that that was the message Combe was established to convey but he didn’t get it. No, I don’t think we’ll be worrying our friends south of the Thames.’

Well that, at least, was a relief. To have the security services involved was always a complication. Dalgliesh reflected that the secret service, like the monarchy, in yielding up its mystique in response to public enthusiasm for greater openness, seemed to have lost some of that half-ecclesiastical patina of authority bestowed on those who dealt in esoteric mysteries. Today its head was known by name and pictured in the press, the previous head had actually written her autobiography and its headquarters, an eccentric oriental-looking monument to modernity which dominated its stretch of the south bank of the Thames, seemed designed to attract rather than repel curiosity. To surrender mystique had its disadvantages; an organisation came to be regarded like any other bureaucracy, staffed by the same fallible human beings and liable to the same cock-ups. But he expected no problems with the secret service. The fact that MI5 was represented at middle-grade level suggested that this single death on an offshore island was among the least of their present concerns.

He said, ‘I can’t go inadequately briefed. You’ve given me nothing except who’s dead, where he died and apparently how. Tell me about the island. Where exactly is it?’

Harkness was in one of his more difficult moods, his ill humour imperfectly concealed by self-importance and a tendency to verbosity. The large map on the table was a little crooked. Frowning, he aligned it more accurately with the edge of the table, pushed it towards Dalgliesh and stabbed it with his forefinger.

‘It’s here. Combe Island. Off the coast of Cornwall, about twenty miles south-west of Lundy Island and roughly twelve miles from the mainland, Pentworthy in this case. Newquay is the nearest large town.’ He looked over at Conistone. ‘You’d better carry on. It’s more your baby than ours.’

Conistone spoke directly to Dalgliesh. ‘I’ll waste a little time on the history. It explains Combe and if you don’t know it you may start under a disadvantage. The island was owned for over four hundred years by the Holcombe family who acquired it in the sixteenth century, although no one seems clear exactly how. Probably a Holcombe rowed out with a few armed retainers, hoisted his personal standard and took it over. There can’t have been much competition. The title was later ratified by Henry the Eighth once he’d got rid of the Mediterranean pirates who’d established it as a basis for their slave-trading raids along the Devon and Cornish coasts. After that Combe lay more or less neglected until the eighteenth century when the family began to take an interest in it, and visited occasionally to look at the bird-life or spend the day picnicking. Then a Gerald Holcombe, born in the late eighteen-hundreds, decided to use the island for family holidays. He restored the cottages and, in 1912, built a house and additional accommodation for the staff. The family went there every summer in those heady days before the First World War. The war changed everything. The two elder sons were killed, one in France, the other at Gallipoli. The Holcombes are the kind of family who die in wars, not make money from them. That left only the youngest, Henry, who was consumptive and unfit for military service. Apparently, after the death of his brothers he was oppressed by a sense of general unworthiness and had no particular wish to inherit. The money hadn’t come from land but from fortunate investments and by the late Twenties they had more or less dried up. So in 1930 he set up a charitable trust with what was left, found some wealthy supporters and handed over the island and the property. His idea was that it should be used as a place of rest and seclusion for men in positions of responsibility who needed to get away from the rigours of their professional lives.’

Now, for the first time, he bent down to open his briefcase and took out a file with a security marking. Rummaging among the documents, he brought out a single sheet of paper. ‘I’ve got the exact wording here. It makes Henry Holcombe’s intentions clear. For men who undertake the dangerous and arduous business of exercising high responsibility in the service of the Crown and of their country, whether in the armed forces, politics, science, industry or the arts, and who require a restorative period of solitude, silence and peace. Engagingly typical of its age, isn’t it? No mention of women, of course. This was 1930, remember. However the accepted convention is held to apply, that the word “men” embraces women. They take a maximum of five visitors whom they accommodate at their choice either in...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 4.9.2008
• Reihe/Serie: Inspector Adam Dalgliesh Mystery
• Verlagsort: London
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror ► Krimi / Thriller
• Schlagworte: Adam Dalgliesh books in order • Agatha Christie • Agatha Christie Josephine Tey Nicola Upson Dorothy L Sayers Shedunnit • Children of Men • Classic Crime • crime series • Dalgliesh • Dalgliesh Channel 5 Bertie Carvel • Death Comes To Pemberley • Death Comes to Pemberley Children of Men • Detectives • Inspector Grant Jack Reacher Rebus • Murder Mystery • Ruth Rendell • Val McDermid Elly Griffiths Jane Casey Sharon Bolton Richard Osman Damien Boyd Ian Rankin Lynda la Plante Stuart MacBride
• ISBN-10: 0-571-24704-0 / 0571247040
• ISBN-13: 978-0-571-24704-2 / 9780571247042