Dorothy Martin and her husband Alan head to the Canadian city of Victoria to investigate a series of petty crimes. But when a woman goes missing and a body is discovered, it would appear that the petty crimes have turned deadly — and Dorothy and Alan have embarked on a trip that will become far more dangerous than they ever envisaged...

At thirty-five, Freddie Croft has retired as a steeplechase jockey and now runs a fleet of motor horseboxes transporting runners from their stables to the races, or brood mares to the stud farms. One of the hard and fast rules for all his drivers is never to pick up a hitchhiker, but of course one day they do, and by the time they reach base the passenger is dead.

This unwelcome corpse on his doorstep sweeps Freddie into a complicated conspiracy where little is as it seems, and where, like it or not, he has to fight to save not just his business but his very life.

Organised, intelligent and determined he may be, but punching at shifting shadows, trying to outwit adversaries whose existence he only suspects, not knowing what to believe or whom to trust, these intangibles take him into dangers very different from the old familiar perils of jump racing, and force him to search for unexpected answers.

Like each of his bestselling thrillers, Driving Force will excite and entertain readers throughout the world and in countless languages. As The Times said of him: ‘He is a writer of champion class.’

A sunny, quiet, perfectly ordinary school day in autumn turns suddenly dark when sixteen-year-old Rebecca Patton runs down and kills a pedestrian during a driving lesson. It all happens so quickly, so inexplicably, like an accident. The victim — a woman carrying a red handbag — had been stepping off the curb at the corner of Grove and Third. Then she was lying in the street, in critical condition.When police detective Katie Logan arrives at the station house, she finds a distraught but cooperative Rebecca. Her driving instructor, Andrew Newell, is totally disoriented, however. He appears to be drunk. Or on drugs. Certainly, his apparent incompetence warrants his arrest in what has now become a case of negligent homicide.The situation in this adroitly told tale by a master at the top of his form grows far more sinister, though, when Logan learns that the victim’s handbag has been recovered. It identifies the dead woman as Andrew Newell’s wife.

New-York, 1962. Tandis que Mike Coppolano mène un combat acharné contre le crime qui gangrène la grosse pomme, son propre père, Louis Coppolano, s'implique malgré lui dans ce qui restera comme le casse le plus audacieux de l'après-guerre. Qui du père ou du fils remportera la mise ?

« Vicky de Berlin », la belle michetonneuse, tient le Ration K, bar à filles de Bruxelles.Les frères Napos, propriétaires du Vertige décidé de racketter tous les bars de la ville.Affrontement entre tenancières et tapineuses, entre caïds et faussaires. Le « beau Marcel », chargé de l'affaire des faux talbins, devra orchestrer les rivalités entre deux clans, les affaires de filles, de territoires qui ne font pas bon ménage.Le grand classique de référence : Rififi entre nanas et malfrats qui jaspinent, argot pour des talbins, les polkas ou un territoire et vous avez la recette du grand polar à la française !A la fin, un glossaire d'argot.Biographie de l'auteurNé en 1913, Auguste Monfort vit une enfance perdue. Du monde ouvrier qui est le sien, il observe les élites avec curiosité. Naturellement, en autodidacte, il devient romancier décrivant les bas-fonds de Paris et des grandes capitales.

Chicago, 1947. Nathan Heller, formerly of the United States Marines, currently head of the A-1 Detective Agency, is settling happily into post-war suburban prosperity in the company of his lovely, pregnant wife. But when a client’s child turns up murdered, a detective who thinks he’s seen it all finds he hasn’t. The dead little girl is apparently the handiwork of a serial murderer whose lipstick-scrawled cry for help — “Catch Me Before I Kill More” — is a pledge Heller intends to help the killer keep.

In the novella “Dying in the Post-War World,” Max Allan Collins — who, says best-selling suspense author Andrew Vachss, “blends fact and fiction like no other writer” — presents a fresh and powerful look at one of Chicago’s most famous crimes.

In Dying in the Post-War World, Max Allan Collins ably demonstrates why Chicago Magazine has dubbed him “the master of true-crime fiction.” And Nathan Heller shows himself to be not only a classic private detective in the Hammett/Chandler tradition, but a man as well-flesh and blood, flaws and all.

Así reza la carta que, escrita con la propia sangre de su hijo Harald, recibe en Alemania Amelia Gotlieb, días después de que la policía islandesa encontrara el cadáver del muchacho en la Facultad de Historia de Reykjavik: un cadáver al que, además, le han sacado los ojos y lleva marcados en su cuerpo extraños signos que dejan a los forenses entre el estupor y el espanto. Descontentos con el trabajo de la policía, y deseosos de que la verdad se descubra de la forma más discreta posible, los padres del difunto contratan entonces los servicios de Dora, una letrada islandesa a la que ayudará Matthew, el abogado alemán que envía la familia. Dora y Matthew inician una investigación que les llevará desde la moderna Reykjavik al extremo noroeste de la isla, una zona inhóspita y salvaje donde, como en tantos otros lugares de Europa, se llevaron a cabo ejecuciones de decenas de personas acusadas de brujería. A los dos abogados no les quedará otro remedio que sumergirse en los restos y documentos de aquel nefasto episodio de la historia de Islandia para encontrar la clave de un asesinato que parece haber sido inspirado en ancestrales rituales.

In einem angesehenen Hotel in Reykjavik wird der Portier erstochen aufgefunden, als Weihnachtsmann verkleidet. Ein rätselhafter Mord, den Erlendur und seine Kollegen von der Kripo Reykjavik aufklären sollen, ohne die internationalen Gäste zu verschrecken. Island darf nicht zu spannend und zu abenteuerlich sein! Um den Tod des alten Mannes schert sich eigentlich niemand, kein Mensch will etwas mit ihm zu tun gehabt haben. Wer aber hat Interesse, einen zurückgezogen lebenden Portier aus dem Weg zu räumen? Erlendur quartiert sich kurzerhand im Hotel ein, um den Beweggründen auf die Spur zu kommen. Wieder einmal reichen die Fäden weit in die Vergangenheit zurück …

Carmine Canucci (“Ganooch” to his friends) was a retired soft-drinks magnate with a nice estate in Larchmont and influence in, well, certain circles. Which was precisely why Nanny Poole, the English governess he had hired to look after his ten-year-old son, had no desire to let him know that little Lewis had been kidnaped. Since he was vacationing on Capri at the time, it wouldn’t be too hard to keep him in the dark. Provided, of course, the kid returned, safe and sound, before his parents did. So she asked Benny Napkins, who used to be very big in linens and garbage, to help raise the $50,000 ransom — a search that sets off the funniest and most unlikely chain of events since the mob went “respectable.”In this new novel, Evan Hunter conducts a merry romp through the labyrinth of disorganized crime. There’s Cockeye Di Strabismo, the cross-eyed counterfeiter; Dominick the Guru, the hippie housebreaker; Bloomingdales, the fence (not to be confused with the department store); Snitch Delatore, the well-known informer; and many others, all introduced in Hunter’s peerless prose (not to mention pictures, too).The zany plot revolves around a kidnaper who composes his ransom notes from the impenetrable wisdom of two leading critics, and it careens wildly into complications like a legitimate illegitimate deal that injects a few extra packages of $50,000 cash into the picture, a rudely interrupted poker game, and a Spiro Agnew watch.

Three frightened people waited in that darkened room. Three, and a grim unwanted guest — Murder!