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The Beige Man (An Irene Huss Investigation, Band 7) - Softcover

Buch 7 von 8: Inspector Huss

Tursten, Helene

 
9781616956233: The Beige Man (An Irene Huss Investigation, Band 7)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 1616956232 ISBN 13: 9781616956233
Verlag: Soho Crime, 2015

Inhaltsangabe

A speeding BMW leaves a dead pedestrian in its wake and leads police to the corpse of a young girl in a cellar. Detective Inspector Irene Huss's ensuing investigation draws her into the chilling world of sex trafficking.

Göteborg, Sweden: The high-speed chase of a stolen BMW takes a chilling turn when the two police officers involved witness a gruesome hit-and-run. When they finally recover the abandoned vehicle, search dogs are unable to trace the thieves, but they do uncover an entirely different horror: the half-naked corpse of a young girl in a nearby root cellar.

As Detective Inspector Irene Huss and her colleagues struggle to put the pieces together, they discover the man whose car was stolen—a retired police officer—is none other than the victim in the hit-and-run. Could it be a strange coincidence? Or is something larger at play? Meanwhile, the hunt for the girl’s killer leads Irene into the dark world of sex trafficking. An international criminal has arrived in Göteborg, and he’ll stop at nothing to expand his sinister operation.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Helene Tursten was a nurse and a dentist before she turned to writing. Other books in the Irene Huss series include Detective Inspector Huss, Night Rounds, The Torso, The Glass Devil, The Golden Calf, The Fire Dance, and The Treacherous Net. Her books have been translated into 18 languages. She was born in Göteborg, Sweden, where she now lives with her husband and daughter.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter 1

The new moon and the stars shone as brightly as diamonds in the blue-black January sky. Their reflection glittered in the rime-frost covering Gotebörg. The car’s external thermometer was already showing minus fifteen degrees. The temperature would probably drop even further during the night. The harsh cold had managed to maintain its iron grip on the country for almost two weeks now, although no snow had yet fallen in the west of Sweden.
        Officer Stefan Eriksson was yawning in the pleasant warmth of the patrol car. The engine was idling, and he didn’t give a thought to any environmental concerns. When the weather was like this, the important thing was not to let the icy cold come creeping in. He stole a glance at the brightly lit hatch of the kiosk that served food. Petrén, his colleague, was at the front of the queue and was just paying. A cup of hot coffee and
a cheeseburger with all the extras would definitely hit the spot right now, an hour before the end of their shift. A loud rumble from Eriksson’s stomach confirmed that it was high time he got something inside him. Neither of them had eaten since they came on duty at four o’clock in the afternoon—not because the evening had been unusually busy, but because they had been called to deal with a fight at a pizzeria in the Old Town just as they were due to go back to the station for their meal break.
       Without bothering to rush, they had headed north to the address they had been given. The arrival of the patrol car had had a calming effect on the three guys involved in the fight, and Eriksson and Petrén had soon had the situation under control. Nobody wanted to make a formal complaint; suddenly all three men were in total agreement that they had been engaged in nothing more than a lively discussion. The fact that one of them had a broken nose and was bleeding so profusely he had to be taken to Östra Hospital by ambulance was merely a regrettable accident. As were the red marks on the faces of the other two. All three of them would be sporting impressive bruises in various shades of blue and purple in a few hours. Since no one wanted the police to take any further action, Eriksson and Petrén left the pizzeria as soon as the man with the broken nose had been taken away. A report on the incident would be sufficient.
       After that the officers had agreed they weren’t in the mood for pizza, so they had driven to the kiosk on Delsjövägen. It was easy to park there, and the fast food was supposed to be pretty good—at least according to Petrén. He was a single guy, and more or less lived off that kind of stuff.
       Eriksson was roused from his thoughts as the radio burst into life:

Calling all cars: a metallic silver BMW 630 was stolen in
Stampen a few minutes ago. The owner saw two young men
jump into the car and drive off along Skånegatan heading
toward Liseberg. Both were wearing dark woolen hats and
dark clothing. The witness thought they were of average
height, slight build. The registration number of the car is . . .

       Skånegatan, heading toward Liseberg. That meant they would be driving past the police station. The nerve of the bastards, Eriksson thought.
       Petrén hurried toward the car with a bag of cheeseburgers in one hand and their cups of coffee in the other. He was wearing gloves, and it looked like a pretty risky balancing act; Eriksson reached across and opened the passenger door for his  colleague. Petrén slid his hip into the car and bent his knee, then suddenly stopped with one foot on the floor of the car and the other on the tarmac.
       Eriksson could feel the cold quickly spreading through the warm interior, and said crossly, “Get your ass in here before . . .” He broke off in the middle of the sentence and sat there open-mouthed. A car was speeding toward them along Delsjövägen, its high beams on and its engine racing. As the car passed beneath a street lamp just a few meters away, Eriksson registered the fact that it was light-colored, probably silver—definitely a large BMW. It skidded sharply as the driver put his foot down and slid past the patrol car with screeching tires.
       “Jesus Christ, it’s the stolen BMW!” Eriksson shouted.
       “What stolen BMW?” Petrén asked as he carefully slid into the passenger seat.
       “The one we had a call about just now! Get on the radio and tell them we’re after the bastard!”
       “Can’t.”
       “What do you mean, can’t?”
       “Hands full.” Petrén held up the coffee cups and the bag by way of explanation.
       “For Christ’s sake, just get rid of it!” Eriksson roared.
       Without a word, Petrén pushed the button to open the window with his right elbow. The discreet hum as the window slid down was drowned out by the sound of the patrol car’s tires as they spun on the tarmac. Without further ado, Petrén threw out their coffee and burgers, and as the window began to close, he grabbed the microphone and called control.
       “S-H-O eleven zero one by the kiosk on Delsjövägen. The stolen BMW has just driven past us heading in the direction of Kålltorp, traveling at high speed. In pursuit. Over.”
       “Thank you, eleven zero one. I’ll call for assistance from other patrols. Thirteen zero four is on the way from Östra Hospital and can cut across from the opposite direction. Backup is on the way.”
       Eriksson drove as fast as he dared. He could see the rear lights of the BMW disappearing in the direction of Swedish Television’s brightly lit, box-shaped building. He put his foot down hard, and suddenly the lights in front of him glowed as brightly as two red fireworks. The BMW was swerving all over the place and looked as if it might actually go off the road.
       The two police officers saw something fly up in the air, then land to one side of the car. Whatever it was, it lay motionless on the tarmac next to the sidewalk. When the driver had regained control, the BMW immediately took off again.
       The patrol car slowed down and stopped.
       “Shit! It’s a person! Call it in!” Eriksson shouted, frantic.
       Petrén once again seized the microphone with a steady hand and spoke to control in a voice that was significantly less steady, “Eleven zero one here. The BMW has hit a pedestrian outside Swedish Television. Send an ambulance and backup. We need to remain at the scene. Over.”
       “Understood. We’ll send an ambulance and another patrol. Other teams will continue to pursue the BMW.”
       Stefan Eriksson was already out of the car and didn’t hear the response. He reached the motionless body in a few long strides.
       There was a lot of blood, and the dark pool was growing with terrifying speed. No...

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Verlag
Soho Crime
Erscheinungsdatum
2015
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
1616956232
ISBN 13 
9781616956233
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
336
Kontakt zum Hersteller
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https://sohopress.com/the-best-of-soho-press-2021/

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