Bøger i Charlie Peace serien

Moving into an upmarket new home in Leeds, rising radio star Matt Harper is shocked to find the skeleton of a small child in the attic. His grisly discovery takes him back to the summer of 1969, when he lived with his aunt only a few streets away, reawakening dim, disquieting memories from his childhood. While Detective Charlie Peace heads up the nominal police investigation into the bones, Matt revisits the past in an attempt to solve the mystery himself. Tracking down the other members of a gang of local children he'd once belonged to, he gradually unearths a shared secret that has laid buried ever since. Were the bones in the attic the result of a tragic accident, or has time concealed a more sinister truth? 'Exceptionally well-plotted and written with a stylistic modesty that does the story proud' Literary Review 'Barnard never disappoints' The Times 'Another fine crime novel by the master of the genre' Irish Times

Lydia Perceval was - apparently - a charming and gifted woman. As a successful biographer, she led a privileged and comfortable life in her well-ordered, luxurious country-cottage. She felt terribly sorry for her sister, married to an unemployed drunk, mother of two sons, both of whom had loved their adorable Aunt Lydia much more than their parents. Lydia had a way with young people, particularly boys. She knew how to bring out the best in them. As it happened, her sister's two boys had proved something of a disappointment - Maurice had demeaned himself by going to work in television, and Gavin, the best, had died a hero in the Falklands War. Lydia felt a little lost without some young people to groom into greatness. And then she met the Bellingham boys. It was like a reply of the past, two bright young boys, one dark, one fair, just waiting for Lydia to take over their lives. But before she could do so, Lydia was strangled. The motives were subtle, obscure. And there were very few clues. But as Superintendent Mike Oddie started his investigations, he began to suspect that quite a few people hadn't liked the charming Lydia Perceval at all. 'Barnard's three-card trickster's skill for deception is deftly demonstrated' Guardian 'Barnard not only creates an array of sharply etched characters whom he manipulates like a virtuoso puppet-master, he manipulates the reader as well . . . the solution is a classic' Scotsman 'Witty, guileful, and hairy to the end' John Coleman, Sunday Times

Susannah Sneddon had never received a great deal of fame or fortune from her novel-writing in the twenties and thirties. In the remote Yorkshire village of Micklewike, where she had lived on a run-down farm, she was now chiefly remembered for the violence of her demise - battered to death, apparently by her jealous brother, who then shot himself. That was back in 1932, and now there was a renewed surge of interest in the Sneddons, led by the shady publisher and entrepreneur Gerald Suzman. He had bought up the farm and formed the Sneddon Fellowship, with the declared aim of making the Sneddons' reputation as a kind of twentieth-century Bronte family. A motley collection of enthusiasts gathered in Micklewike for the inaugural meeting of the Sneddon Fellowship, including Charlie Peace, a young black detective constable sent to keep an eye on things. There was a suspicion that Suzman's motives were not quite as purely literary as they seemed. And when Suzman was found lying dead with his head bashed in, a surprising number of possible reasons for his death emerged amongst the group of Sneddon followers. Charlie and Superintendent Mike Oddie had to examine evidence both old and new as the strange case of the Sneddon literary heritage was gradually unravelled. 'One of the deftest stylists in the field' New York Times Book Review 'This story is a beauty . . . enlivened by Barnard's wit and his knowledge of the seedier side of literary affairs' Birmingham Post

The disappearance from school of two apparently unconnected teenagers worries DC Charlie Peace, until he discovers that they are both working at a hostel for homeless street kids. Peace knows the life and crimes of the people these two are trying to help, and decides that, for the moment, they are safe. But will Peace have cause to regret his decision? After all, just who is the man running the hostel? And how nasty is the local opposition to the place likely to become? As the pair continue their good work, the situation at the hostel becomes even more fraught with the appearance of an Asian girl fleeing an arranged marriage. And it isn't long before a murderous attack seems about to put an end to the whole project. 'Nicely drawn characters' Irish Times 'Very appealing. . .sensitively written' Evening Standard 'He plots a mystery as well as any writer alive' Time Magazine

Rosemary Sheffield has a sort of "e;reverse epiphany"e; one day while walking in the park: she no longer believes in God. This sudden loss of faith is at first entirely liberating, but the situation gradually becomes more complicated. Rosemary is, after all, the beloved wife of the vicar at St. Saviour's parish. A storm of controversy erupts in her husband's church congregation, but Rosemary, with the words "e;I do not believe,"e; leaves behind the scandal and gossip for a seaside sojourn in Scarborough. Here she meets Stanko, a Bosnian refugee who illegally entered the country. But what begins as a supportive friendship launches an ungodly chain of events-and Rosemary soon finds herself back at home caught up in a murder investigation. "e;Barnard's trademark seamless plotting and riotous sense of humor stand out wonderfully in his latest whodunit."e; Booklist "e;His plots are downright Mozartian in their effortless complexity"e; New York Newsday

The body of a young man, almost naked, in the car park behind one of Haworth's many eating establishments marks the beginning of the case, and it is his identity that is the first puzzle for DC Charlie Peace and his superior Detective Superintendent Oddie. But before long the puzzle that most concerns them is the nature of the close-knit artistic community where Declan O'Hearn had acted as odd-job boy. The little knot of people seem to be united less by their ability as painters than by a common worship of the distinguished artist Ranulph Byatt, who has not only brought them together, but seems to prefer the adulation of his inferiors to the judgement of his equals. Peace, searching for clues, soon starts to wonder if there isn't a sinister reason for this. And as the search for the killer gathers pace, Peace and Oddie uncover a series of dark secrets on the harsh Haworth landscape. Atmospheric, witty and perceptive, The Corpse at the Haworth Tandoori is vintage Robert Barnard.

The Ketterick Festival revolves around the Saracen's Head, a Jacobean inn with its inn-yard and balconies miraculously preserved intact, due to the sloth of successive landlords. Here in festival time are performed the lesser-known masterpieces of Elizabethan and Jacobean theatre. This year it is The Chaste Apprentice of Bowe (a play of uncertain authorship, since no one owned up at the time). But the actors find that the Saracen's Head has been transformed by its new landlord - an Australian know-all with an insatiable curiosity and an instinct for power. The loathsome Des's activities bring him into conflict with actors, committee, even the performers of Adelaide di Birckenhead, the little-known Donizetti opera that is the other lynchpin of the Festival programme. So adept is Des at fomenting friction and ferreting in the undergrowth of private lives that it is not surprising that it all ends in biers. Barnard's festive romp spares no one in the arts world, and even suggests a solution to a long-felt operatic want, showing once again why he has been called 'a specialist in snide japery' (Time Magazine), whose mysteries are 'among the best' (New York Times).