By Arnaldur Indriðason
On an icy January day the Reykjavik police are referred to as to a block of apartments the place a physique has been present in the backyard: a tender, dark-skinned boy, frozen to the floor in a pool of his personal blood. the invention of a stab wound in his abdominal extinguishes any wish that this was once a sad coincidence. Erlendur and his crew embark on their research with little to move on however the information that the boy's Thai half-brother is lacking. Is he implicated, or just afraid for his personal lifestyles? The research quickly finds tensions simmering underneath the skin of Iceland's outwardly liberal, multicultural society. A instructor on the boy's university makes no mystery of his anti-immigration stance; incidents are stated among Icelandic students and the disaffected childrens of incomers; and, to confuse concerns additional, a suspected paedophile has been noticed within the zone. in the meantime, the boy's homicide forces Erlendur to confront the tragedy in his personal previous. quickly, evidence are rising from the snow-filled darkness which are extra chilling even than the Arctic evening.
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Extra info for Arctic Chill (Reykjavík Murder Mysteries, Book 5)
I knew that Holmes must be badly confused but he was no longer showing it. He was not a man to err twice. " the doctor countered surprisingly. "Come, I have read the accounts of your cases and just now have I seen a glimpse of your astonishing faculties. " Holmes eyed him coldly. "Beyond the fact that you are a brilliant Jewish physician who was born in Hungary and studied for a time in Paris, and that some radical theories of yours have alienated the respectable medical community so that you have severed your connections with various hospitals and branches of the medical fraternity—beyond the fact that you have ceased to practice medicine as a result, I can deduce little.
Let us go to a hotel where I will make other arrangements. Cheer up, old friend. I said there were several possibilities. " We stepped up to a new arrival, ready to get in, when suddenly Toby broke out with a bark of joy and began wagging his tail with emphasis. Holmes and I looked at each other in astonishment, then burst out laughing together. " he chuckled, and went to speak with the driver. Holmes's German was better than mine, though not by much. Aside from memorized quotations from Goethe and Schiller—no doubt also culled from schooldays and of little use to us now—his knowledge of most languages (except French, which he spoke fluently) was confined to the vocabulary of crime.
So far as I can determine, he never had a rival where his olfactory sense was involved. Readers may recall Toby's remarkable powers from my account of them in "The Sign of the Four," in which he was materially responsible for the discovery of the notorious Jonathan Small and his Horrible Companion. He traced them half-way across London with only a bit of creosote on the bare feet of the latter to guide him. True, he once brought us to an unexpected dead-end at a creosote barrel, but that was only because the fugitives' path had intersected that of the barrel.
Arctic Chill (Reykjavík Murder Mysteries, Book 5) by Arnaldur Indriðason