By Susan Hill
Susan Hill- the fellow Booker Prize nominee and winner of the Whitbread, Somerset Maugham, and John Llewellyn Rhys awards- returns with a gripping secret "eagerly awaited through all aficionados" (P.D. James).
A quite disagreeable homicide, that of a really outdated girl in a housing undertaking, rocks town of Lafferton. The assassin has left a particular "sign" at the physique and on the scene of crime. a number of weeks later, an identical homicide happens, and a month or so later, so does another.
Initial investigations become aware of that the mysterious "sign" left at the physique used to be the calling card of a suspect who was once charged with numerous murders within the northwest of the rustic, attempted yet acquitted at the grounds of inadequate facts. All symptoms recommend that this individual has easily vanished. Or is he correct below their noses? Simon Serrailler is obliged to make delve deeper and scratch out solutions, during this addictive secret of surpassing darkness via the bestselling Susan Hill.
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Additional resources for A Question of Identity. (Simon Serrailler, Book 7)
Got six kids? ” I peered out the window, hoping that somehow the situation would have changed for the normal. Nope. ” “In my side yard. ” “Yes, he is. ” I stared out the window in appalled fascination. “Um, Doris, he’s taking his clothes off now. And still singing. ” Guiltily, I reached over and punched in the code. “I don’t think he means to hurt anyone, Doris. He just can’t help himself. It’s like he took drugs, or had a seizure, or something. ” “I’ll tell them what you said,” Doris told me. She didn’t sound bored or lackadaisical anymore.
Darius called happily, as Jimmy was shutting the car door. ” Martin stood on the covered sidewalk between our house and the garage and saw the pieces of oak scattered around the backyard, which we’d finally, expensively, had rolled and re-seeded to make it smooth and grassy. Quite a few divots had been ripped out of the turf by Darius’s impromptu log toss. “Thanks a lot, Darius,” Martin said. I came out after the squad car had departed, all three of the occupants singing away. I mentally filed away a decision to write a letter to Sheriff Padgett Lanier to commend Levon and Jimmy’s restraint and good sense.
Though I couldn’t tell much about it, there was a strange car parked in front of the garage. And Regina’s car was gone. The automatic security light at the back of the house showed, also, that someone had taken Darius’s truck and trailer. I hoped it was one of his children. We didn’t have an automatic security light at the front of the house because it had shone in our bedroom window; we’d had it switched to manual, and we’d forgotten to leave it on when we’d left for the Lowrys’ dinner. The brilliant light in the backyard gave the front some illumination, but it was faint and full of shadows.