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The Art of Detection

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Overview

In this thrilling new crime novel that ingeniously bridges Laurie R. King ' s Edgar and Creasey Awards ' winning Kate Martinelli series and her bestselling series starring Mary Russell, San Francisco homicide detective Kate Martinelli crosses paths with Sherlock Holmes ' in a spellbinding dual mystery that could come only from the ' intelligent, witty, and complex ' mind of New York Times bestselling author Laurie R. King ' .

Kate Martinelli has seen her share of peculiar things as a San Francisco cop, but never anything quite like this: an ornate Victorian sitting room straight out of a Sherlock Holmes story ' complete with violin, tobacco ' filled Persian slipper, and gunshots in the wallpaper that spell out the initials of the late queen.

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Author Information

Bio of Laurie R. King

Laurie R. King is the Edgar Award-winning author of four contemporary novels featuring Kate Martinelli, eight acclaimed Mary Russell mysteries, and four stand-alone novels, including the highly praised A Darker Place. She lives in northern California.

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Additional Info

Imprint

Random House

Filesize

1.72 MB

Number of Pages

368

eBook ISBN

9780553902617

Awards

  • Lambda Literary Awards

Excerpt from: The Art of Detection by Laurie R. King

ONE

Earlier that morning, the call had come while Inspector Kate Martinelli of the San Francisco Police Department was in the middle of a highly volatile negotiation.

"I'll hurt myself," the person on the other side of the room threatened.

"Now, that's no good." Kate's response employed the voice of patient reason that she had clung to for the last few minutes, as she desperately wished that the official negotiator would return and take command.

"Yes it is good." Her opponent saw with crystal clarity that self-destruction was a powerful weapon against Kate.

"Now, think about it, sweetie. If you hurt yourself, it's going to hurt."

The mop of curly yellow hair went still as the green eyes narrowed in thought, and Kate's soul contracted with the weird mixture of stifled laughter and heart-wrenching submission that had welled up inside ten thousand times over the past three years and ten months: The child was so like her mother--her looks, her intelligence, her innate sensitivity--she might have been a clone. Kate pushed the sensation away from her throat and said, still reasonable, "We'd all be sad if you were hurt, but you would be the one that was hurting. Now, if you let me lift you down from there, we'll talk about whether you're old enough and careful enough to play with those things."