2016, ISBN: 9781579542320

Hardcover

Allen & Unwin. Very Good. 5 x 0.7 x 7.75 inches. Paperback. 2005. 240 pages. <br>Cliff Hardy trades the mean streets of Sydney for the Illawarra escarpment, a rugged undevelope… More...

Allen & Unwin. Very Good. 5 x 0.7 x 7.75 inches. Paperback. 2005. 240 pages. <br>Cliff Hardy trades the mean streets of Sydney for the Illawarra escarpment, a rugged undeveloped area of Australia, in this latest hard-boiled detective novel. First hired by the d aughter of the late, wealthy Frederick Farmer to investigate his mysterious and fiery death, Hardy is then called in on a second c ase-the disappearance of the young daughter of Marisha Karatsky, an exotic, dark-eyed interpreter who gets under Hardy's thick ski n. Questionable insurance agents and feral bikers round out the c olorful cast as Hardy battles through personal turmoil on the roa d to justice. Editorial Reviews From Booklist After a couple of decades, your typical mystery series tends to get a little stale . But there are exceptions: Westlake's Dortmunder novels (35 year s), McBain's 87th Precinct series (49 years), and Corris' Cliff H ardy series, which is now at the quarter-century mark and still g oing strong. Unlike the oft-reprinted novels of Westlake and McBa in, however, Australian Corris' work is not widely available in t he U.S. The publication of this representative Hardy novel should help change that. In The Coast Road, a wealthy man dies, and his daughter asks Sydney PI Hardy to find out whether it really was an accident, as the police have ruled. Does the daughter know som ething, or is she merely jealous of her father's second wife, who now stands to inherit a fortune? Before he can get a handle on t he case, another one drops into his lap, and this one, involving a missing person, hits Cliff on an emotional as well as a profess ional level. The novel is sharply written in the classic gumshoe tradition, and it generates enough energy to keep readers plowing forward. David Pitt Copyright © American Library Association. Al l rights reserved About the Author Peter Corris is the author of the Cliff Hardy detective novels. He is also the author of A Rou nd of Golf: 18 Holes with Peter Corris and the coauthor of Fred H ollows: An Autobiography. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. A ll rights reserved. The Coast Road A Cliff Hardy Novel By Pete r Corris Allen & Unwin Copyright ® 2004 Peter Corris All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-74114-384-3 CHAPTER 1 It had to happen soo ner or later. The building in St Peters Lane where I've had my of fice for longer than I like to think about has come up for 'resto ration'. Read demolition maybe, with a retained façade. I knew th e hammer was poised when my lease ran out and all I was offered w as a fortnightly tenancy. I took it and hung on as long as I coul d, but the game's up. The rent's been cheap because of the condit ion of the joint. DDD, my ex and now late wife Cyn called it - da rk, damp and dusty. And that was years ago. It's had a few faceli fts, paint jobs, rewiring, but the space had just become too pote ntially valuable to accommodate tenants like me. We held a party - Stephanie Geller, astrologer, Frank Corso, antiquarian booksel ler, Lucille Harvey, genealogist, Donald Carver, philatelist, Hen ri Baden, numismatist and a few others, some of whom imported and exported, and me. Strictly cheap wine casks, paper cups, Salada biscuits, cheese slices. 'Usually they offer the existing tenant s first option on the new offices,' Don Carver said. Don looks li ke a bird, with a long nose and retreating chin. He's slumped as if all those years of peering through magnifying glasses have ben t him over. Frank Corso held a three-tier Salada and cheese slic e construction in one hand and a brimful cup of rough red in the other. 'Hah, this'll be apartments, mate. Bet on it. A couple of grand a month, no sweat. They know none of us are up for that so they didn't bother with the politeness.' 'Still, possible ground s for a legal challenge?' Don said. 'Cliff?' I was watching Fran k, wondering how he was going to negotiate the biscuits and chees e. 'Sure, Don,' Lucille Harvey said. 'What d'we do? Club togethe r and get a QC?' Somehow, Frank handled it. He's a big man with a wide mouth and he managed to absorb half of the biscuit sandwic h in one bite, not many crumbs falling onto his bulging waistcoat . Frank maintains that people expect an antiquarian bookseller to wear a waistcoat. He washed the mouthful down with a slug of red . I nodded my congratulations and turned my attention to the conv ersation. 'Don might be right,' I said. 'And Lucille's right as well. Upshot is, we're fucked.' Don took a cautious sip of his w ine. 'Steph?' Stephanie Geller, ruby-lipped, kohl-eyed, in a seq uinned top and a long skirt festooned with tiny mirrors, was piss ed. She's short -sighted and won't wear glasses because she think s they're bad for her image. She squinted and smiled lopsidedly. 'Zee cards ... zee cards say Cliff 's right, even though he's a f uckin' sceptic's sceptic. We're fucked. Henri, get me another whi te.' Steph forgets the accent once in a while. 'You're drunk, da rling,' Henri Baden said. Steph told me once that Henri is a con man who tells people what they want to hear. He's one of those ga ys that seem to get gayer by the glass. 'Don't darling me, you p oofter.' 'Steph!' Lucille Harvey snarled. It went downhill from there. Goodbye St Peters Lane, goodbye central location, goodbye cheap rent. I was working from home and not liking it. My place in Glebe doesn't lend itself to being an office as well as a hou se. The front room's too small; the living space is filled with b ooks and now holds a couple of filing cabinets. You can't escort people upstairs, not when the runner's worn and the spare room ho lds a bed, a computer and more books. I was reduced to meeting my clients at places of their or my choice. I was to meet Dr Elizab eth Farmer in her room in the Linguistics Department of Sydney Un iversity. A day in early spring, clear and cool. I walked. The l inguists were housed in a building that looked like a cross betwe en a Nissan hut and a school demountable. It was probably intende d to be temporary, but a creeper had grown over it, trees and shr ubs crowded close and it was there to stay in all its grey, small -windowed anonymity. From what I'd heard about the way things we re going at universities lately, maybe a low profile was a good t hing. The bean counters and productivity assessors just might lea ve you alone. It was cold in the corridor - poor insulation and inadequate heating. It'd be an oven in summer. I found a notice t elling me the number of Dr Farmer's room and tracked it down. The door was open and I heard voices coming from inside. I walked pa st, slowly enough to see a young female dressed like a student si tting forward in a chair and an older woman behind a desk. They k ept their voices low and I couldn't catch what they were saying. Probably wouldn't have understood anyway. I was early as usual a nd it was one of those times I used to fill in by smoking. Now I wandered around looking at noticeboards, passing a couple of othe r open doors, drifting back to Dr Farmer's room. Ten minutes past our appointed time the student hurried away, backpack over one s houlder, scarf dangling, muttering to herself. I knocked on the o pen door and presented myself. She stood and beckoned to me. 'Mr Hardy. Sorry to keep you waiting.' I went in and took the hand she extended. She was tall and well built with thick dark hair go ing attractively grey. I must have gaped just a bit because she l aughed as she pointed to the chair. 'I know, I know. I look like Germaine Greer. No relation. I just do.' I sat and then stood. ' Can I close the door?' 'Of course. Have you been around a univer sity lately?' 'No. Not as a student for a long time and not othe rwise for quite a bit.' We both settled into our chairs. 'You ca n't be in a room with a student with the door shut - male or fema le. Possibility of improper conduct.' 'Jesus.' 'Absurd, isn't i t? Conversely, you can't leave your door unlocked when you go to the loo in case your bag gets nicked ... or your computer.' I no dded and looked closely at her while also taking in details of th e room in a professional fashion. Rooms can speak about character . Books, books and more books, filing cabinets, stacked folders, audio cassettes. She wore what looked like a heavy linen shirt, w hite, with a string of dark beads around her neck. Dark skirt. I guessed her age at around forty and her character as strong. I wo ndered if I was being called in on one of those university politi cal cases where factions develop in departments, insults fly and crimes are alleged. 'Is this a university matter, Dr Farmer? I m ean threats, harassment, that sort of thing?' 'Shit, no,' she sa id. 'Anything like that I could handle myself or go through the u nion. No, this is personal and nothing to do with my profession. D'you remember Prof Harkness?' I did. Harkness was an ophthalmol ogist who saved the sight of a Bougainville patriot who some othe rs patriots were trying to kill. Harkness had needed some protect ion up to and during the operation. 'Sure, I remember him.' 'He operated on me a little while ago. Tied up a muscle to correct a squint. I used to have to wear these thick glasses. Anyway, appar ently I babbled a bit under the anaesthetic and he was interested in what I said. We talked. He suggested I get in touch with you. He sings your praises.' 'I'm glad to hear it. Anyone who could' ve been making a million dollars a year in Macquarie Street and d oesn't impresses me. What were you babbling about, Dr Farmer?' S he paused before she answered. She was a very handsome woman, pos sibly well aware of it but it sat lightly on her. She had a sligh t frown mark between her eyebrows, probably a result of the corre cted squint. Her eyes were large and grey and unwavering. 'The pr of took me seriously and I hope you will as well.' 'You've got m y attention.' 'It's a question of how to put it. We linguists so metimes get tongue-tied, you'd be surprised to hear. D'you play g olf, Mr Hardy?' I shook my head. 'There's a phrase - paralysis by analysis - when you think about technique so much you can't ac tually hit the ball. What I'm talking about is similar. I'll just have to stumble through it. I might say I want you to find out w ho murdered my father, but I think I know who. What I really want is to find out how she did it and make her pay.'CHAPTER 2 She m ight have had trouble getting started, but she'd rehearsed her st ory well and got it up and running smoothly. Frederick Farmer had been a successful real estate agent with offices in the western and southern suburbs, the Blue Mountains and the Illawarra. In hi s mid-fifties he'd sold out to one of the big franchises for seve ral million dollars and spent the next fifteen years dabbling in the stock exchange and at his hobbies - gardening, fishing and go lf. Elizabeth was his only child. His wife had died ten years ago and three years later Farmer, aged sixty-five, had married Matil da Sharpe-Tarleton, a divorcee twenty-five years younger than him self. 'She calls herself Tilly,' Elizabeth Farmer said. 'That ou ght to tell you something. She's about two years younger than me. Can you see me calling myself Lizzie?' I could in fact. She was smooth-skinned and now that she was animated she looked younger and full of energy. I didn't say anything because a reply wasn't invited. 'She married him for his money and led him a merry danc e.' 'In what way?' 'Tried to make him do things he was past doi ng - overseas trips, gym workouts, golf pro-ams. She even talked him into opening up another real estate agency when he swore he'd done with all that. She's running it now with all his capital be hind her and doing very well. I know what you're going to say.' 'Don't say that. I don't know what I'm going to say, so how could you?' She made a defensive gesture. 'I'm sorry. I'm getting wor ked up. The police ...' 'I'm nothing like the police.' 'Of cour se. Well, they automatically thought I was a kind of poor woman's Gina Reinhart. But it's nothing like that. My father had money b ut not Hancock-style billions. We didn't get on particularly wel l and it's true that he left most of it to her. But I got some an d I'm sure the will was kosher. It's not about money. It's about ...' I waited for the word, wondering - justice? revenge? vindic ation? Suddenly she seemed deflated. She slumped back in her cha ir. 'I'm not sure what it's about. Call it closure.' 'It won't b e closure if you turn out to be right. There'd be a trial of the person you have in mind, probably media interest, books, perhaps. Think of the Kalajzich case. You've already mentioned the Hancoc k circus.' 'I know, I know. Call it jealousy then. She's beautif ul and rich and ...' I shook my head. 'You're not the type to be jealous of anyone. What's your status here, senior lecturer?' ' Associate professor.' 'You don't call yourself professor.' 'I w ill when I get a chair.' 'There you are. A successful career wom an. I've known a few gung-ho academics like you and they all have one thing in common - when they get interested or involved in so mething they can't let it go. They have to know. ' 'Prof Harknes s was right,' she said. 'You're the man for the job.' Frederick Farmer had died when his weekender at Wombarra in the Illawarra h ad burnt to the ground. The house wasn't new or fancy. It was an old weatherboard on ten acres that had once been mine land and la ter an orchard. Farmer, despite his wealth, wasn't interested in high levels of personal comfort. He experimented with varieties o f flowers, fished off the rock shelf and played golf at a nearby par 59 course. According to his daughter, he was spending more an d more time at the coast and less with his wife, whom he'd come t o dislike. 'They investigate deaths like that pretty thoroughly, ' I said. 'Especially when they produce young, rich widows.' 'Of course. But on the surface of it everything appeared straightfor ward. Da, Allen & Unwin, 2005, 3, Bookouture. Very Good. 5.06 x 0.87 x 7.81 inches. Paperback. 2016. 382 pages.<br>If the Night Stalker is watching, you're already de ad... In the dead of a swelteringly hot summer's night, Detecti ve Erika Foster is called to a murder scene. The victim, a doctor , is found suffocated in bed. His wrists are bound and his eyes b ulging through a clear plastic bag tied tight over his head. A few days later, another victim is found dead, in exactly the same circumstances. As Erika and her team start digging deeper, they discover a calculated serial killer - stalking their victims befo re choosing the right moment to strike. The victims are all sin gle men, with very private lives. Why are their pasts shrouded in secrecy? And what links them to the killer? As a heat wave des cends upon London, Erika will do everything to stop the Night Sta lker before the body count rises, even if it means risking her jo b. But the victims might not be the only ones being watched... Er ika's own life could be on the line. The global bestselling aut hor of The Girl in the Ice is back with a heart-racing, electrify ing thriller. If you love Angela Marsons, Rachel Abbott and Karin Slaughter, you'll be hooked on Robert Bryndza. Watch out for m ore from DCI Erika Foster. She's fearless. Respected. Unstoppab le. Detective Erika Foster will catch a killer, whatever it takes . 1. THE GIRL IN THE ICE 2. THE NIGHT STALKER What people ar e saying about The Girl in the Ice 'Oh my gosh!...gripping, gri my, hardcore, thrilling...I was hooked!!!...I loved this book...Y ou Have GOT To Read This!' A Page of Fictional Love 'I freakin' LOVED it! . . . Once in a while a book stops you in your tracks . . . this is THAT book!' Crime Book Junkie 'A non-stop, edge-o f-your-seat, rollercoaster of a thriller! The ending, oh the endi ng! My mind is still blown! This book does not disappoint!' The B ook Addicted Boy 'I loved, loved, loved this book and Erika Fos ter is most definitely my kind of heroine. She is smart, tenaciou s, direct and passionate...I found the writing tight, evocative a nd enthralling. I CAN NOT wait for the next installment.' Angela Marsons 'An intriguing web of lies, secrets and suspense. I rea lly enjoyed getting to know DCI Foster and am already looking for ward to the next book.' Mel Sherratt 'A compelling read - once you've started, it's hard to put down.' Rachel Abbott 'Hands-do wn, one of the most exciting, dramatic, tense and compelling thri llers that I think I have ever read.' Bookaholic Confessions 'A bsolute perfection!...Boy are there some sharp turns! There were a few moments when I felt like I had it all figured out and I was so wrong! Fantastic book!...' The Eternal Optimist 'The Girl I n The Ice is a brilliantly clever crime thriller...Had me hurtlin g at full speed, until WHAM!!!! with an ending that just totally blew me away! An absolute must read for all you crime fanatics ou t there.' By The Letter Book Reviews 'Engaging, thought provoki ng, full of suspense this is one murder mystery you won't want to miss.' Erisea Magazine 'With a great plot that really digs int o the depths of human nature and some fascinating characters that really were excessive shades of light and dark...The book keeps you guessing and on edge, you will think you have it ALL worked o ut, but the twisty reveal was very impressive, loved it.' Book Lo ver Cat Lady ., Bookouture, 2016, 3, Houghton Mifflin Company. Used - Like New. Like New condition. Very Good dust jacket., Houghton Mifflin Company, 5, Vintage. Used book may have writing, markings from the previous owner. Slight bumping, tears, creasing on the top, spine, edges, corners. Outer edges might have tanning, browning, stains, curling, foxing. The main story was of a doctor unjustly blamed for the death of one of his patients. This book does have romance as its main story with a satisfying ending, but I liked the way the author also showed how some deal with injustice well and some deal with it not so well. Each of us has a 'sob story' that we can overcome or which can overcome us. There were several side stories as well and I think much of this novel describes the human condition from the 1930's as well as from our current time. A19., Pocket Books, 1940, 2.5, Silhouette Books, 3002 Romance anthology paperback book, 1st printing, reprint of 2 authors' books Condition is near new, has light edge wear, otherwise looks new.(See scans).........WRAPPED IN PLASTIC BAG TO PROTECT CONDITION OF BOOK.........We have other titles in this genre in stock and give discounts in shipping on additional books, please contact us for more information**...... SUMMARY - LEAN, MEAN & LONESOME - Love? Mighty scarce in Rafe's hardscrabble life. So he'd learned to live solo -- and liked it that way. Until a mysterious plea for help had the restless, ruthless mercenary headed back to Texas like some dashing white knight. And there waited delicious Amanda Crenshaw, the rancher's daughter who'd once, indelibly, branded his heart. Taking what Mandy offered proved impossible to resist. But soon Rafe would be gone again. Unless Mandy could transform this lean, mean loner into the loving family man he desperately longed to become....A SHOTGUN WEDDING - "It isn't what you think!".......No matter how Zach Grainger tried to defend himself, the fact remained: he'd been caught--pants down--in the bushes with Sunny Carlisle, the queen belle of Carlisle, Tennessee........Not a soul believed the real reason Zach had stripped--or that Sunny had rescued him, rather than seduced him. As the new physician in town, everybody thought Zach was a great catch, too--except Zach. He meant to flee the rural backwoods without a wife!......But here was Zach--with an altar in front of him, Sunny beside him and a shotgun at his back!.....In Name Only, Silhouette Books, 3002, 6, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 2007. Hardcover. Like New. Pages are clean and are not marred by notes or folds of any kind. ~ ThriftBooks: Read More, Spend Less.Dust jacket quality is not guaranteed., Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 2007, 5, -: Orion Books Limited, 2011. None. Paperback. Good. -. Publisher`s WeeklyCoben ( Play Dead ) adroitly applies the fundamental rules of thrillerdom (offer a raft of potential villains; keep the action moving at breakneck speed) in this highly entertaining novel about a conspiracy apparently designed to prevent the development of a cure for AIDS. When one of a trio of research scientists on the brink of coming up with an AIDS antidote dies, it looks like suicide, but TV journalist Sara Lowell and her husband, NBA star Michael Silverman, who are friends of the clinic`s founder, think otherwise. Their suspicions are confirmed when several clinic patients, including the son of a U.S. senator, are murdered. A televangelist with his own agenda, Sara`s prominent physician father, and a high-ranking government official all seem intent upon derailing the AIDS research, a situation that becomes most personal when Michael is diagnosed with the disease. Police lieutenant ``Twitch`` Bernstein, a closet homosexual, ultimately comes face-to-face with the person responsible for the killings. The final revelation of the identity of the master conspirator comes as a real surprise. This page-turner also raises some interesting questions about medical research and its funding.Library JournalCoben is the author of one previous novel, Play Dead ( LJ 4/1/90). His new effort is an uneasy stew of contemporary American types: beautiful good girl who is a TV news celebrity; her sister, beautiful bad girl with a heart of gold; handsome basketball star stricken with AIDS; selfless doctor who may have discovered that disease`s cure; totally evil contract killer; and hypocritical TV evangelist. These types and others are stirred into a pretty unbelievable story that ranges from New York City to Washington, D.C. to Bang kok and amasses an impressive body count. Despite such drawbacks, Coben keeps the reader`s interest by fleshing out the stereotypes a little bit and moving the plot fast enough to overcome the more incredible aspects. A marginal purchase for public libraries.-- A.J. Wright, Univ. of Alabama, BirminghamSchool Library JournalYA-- Coben casts a dynamic, beautiful, and successful woman, Sara Lowell, and her handsome and famous sports figure, Michael Silverman, as his main characters. Their friend, Dr. Harvey Riker, takes them into his confidence when he tells them that his medical clinic has discovered a cure for AIDS. To his horror, his cured patients are being murdered by a serial killer dubbed the Gay Slasher by the media. Sara`s father is in stiff competition with Riker for funding of his cancer clinic and her sister, Cassandra, is romantically involved with the doctor. When Michael collapses on the basketball court and is diagnosed as HIV positive, tracking down the murderer and supporting Riker`s clinic take on new dimensions for Sara. This is a fast moving mystery that`s sure to capture YAs` attention, especially in light of today`s headlines.-- Katherine Fitch, Lake Braddock Secondary School, Burke, VA, Orion Books Limited, 2011, 2.5, Rodale Books. Used - Like New. Like New condition. A near perfect copy that may have very minor cosmetic defects., Rodale Books, 5<

2001, ISBN: 9781579542320

Rodale Books, 2001. PAPERBACK. Good. Binding:PaperbackVendor: Rodale BooksSubject:Health & Fitness | Alternative Therapies, Rodale Books, 2001, 2.5

2001, ISBN: 9781579542320

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