Longmire Mystery serie #14

Depth of Winter: A Longmire Mystery

Name: Depth of Winter: A Longmire Mystery
Brand: Johnson, Craig
SKU: PR-9780525522492
Price: 99.0 EUR
Availability: OutOfStock
Rating: 3.4 (185 reviews)

3.4

(185)

Le Pitch

Présentation de l'éditeur “It’s the scenery—and the big guy standing in front of the scenery—that keeps us coming back to Craig Johnson’s lean and leathery mysteries.” —The New York Times Book ReviewWalt journeys into the northern Mexican desert alone to save his daughter Cady, who has been kidnapped by the cartel Welcome to Walt Longmire's worst nightmare. Winter is creeping closer, but for Sheriff Longmire this one is looking to be harsh in a way to which he is wholly unaccustomed. He has found himself in the remotest parts of the northern Mexican desert, a lawless place where no horse or car can travel, where no one speaks his language or trusts an outsider, far from his friends and his home turf back in Wyoming. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Tomas Bidarte, the head of one of the most vicious drug cartels in Mexico, has kidnapped Walt's beloved daughter, Cady. The American government is of limited help and the Mexican one even less so. Armed with his trusty Colt .45 and a father's intuition, Walt must head into the 110-degree heat of the desert, one man against an army. Extrait 1 I turned my water glass in the slick circle of condensation on the smooth, red lacquer of the table between us and studied the man across from me. I was afraid that if I didn't pay attention, he might disappear. The Seer was like that; it was as if he simply drifted away, giving him access to places without appearing to be there, making other people's secrets his own. "You should take in some of the culture while you are here south of the border-go to the bullfights." Adjusting his straw porkpie hat to a jauntier angle, the hunchback smiled. "You might enjoy it." I said nothing. He looked in my general direction, the smile slowly fading. "My friend, Miguel Guerra, says you are highly motivated, but that if I can talk you out of this, I should." I still said nothing. He stared at me. "Do you speak Spanish?" I wiped the sweat from under my eyes with a thumb and forefinger-I had a hard time convincing myself it was coming up on November. "Very little." He had taken his cheap sunglasses off and placed them next to his drink. His eyes were opaque, and they wandered past me, toward the knobby hills to the south that rose from the desert like a bony hand, the fingers spreading to make peaks and battlements, as if the mountains were at war with the flat land. "That's not good, because where you are going there will be places where no one speaks English." The Seer sipped his soft drink and then batted the white cane between the knees of his threadbare pants at the exact place where his legs ended. "Your English is very good." He shrugged. "I have lived my whole life here in Ju‡rez and back before the new drugs, we were just a suburb of El Paso." He glanced down at his truncated legs. "Not the old drugs that did this. My mother traveled to Germany in the sixties and was given the drug that took my legs and my sight and in the process gave me this humped back." He vaguely waved at it sitting there like one of the battlements behind him. "Did you know that hunchbacks are seen as lucky in my country-that we bring good fortune?" "I hope that's the case." "Personally, it has never brought me any providence." He paused for a moment and then turned toward the Club Kentucky, seeing it the way it was in his mind's eye. "Ju‡rez used to be Las Vegas before there was a Las Vegas-twenty-four-hour bars, casinos, cabarets, brothels." The Seer sipped his soda. "It is said that this club invented the margarita." He nodded. "Marilyn Monroe sat on that very stool where you sit now." "How do you know Marilyn Monroe?" He smiled broadly for the first time, and I was surprised at the blinding perfection of his teeth. "My mother was here." "In this bar?" "S’, January twenty-first, 1961. Monroe filed for divorce from Arthur Miller here in Ju‡rez. She was with two men, her lawyers, Aurellano Gonz‡lez Vargas and Arturo Sosa Afficher moinsAfficher plus

Longmire Mystery serie #14

Depth of Winter: A Longmire Mystery

3.4

(185)

Indisponible

Le Pitch

Présentation de l'éditeur “It’s the scenery—and the big guy standing in front of the scenery—that keeps us coming back to Craig Johnson’s lean and leathery mysteries.” —The New York Times Book ReviewWalt journeys into the northern Mexican desert alone to save his daughter Cady, who has been kidnapped by the cartel Welcome to Walt Longmire's worst nightmare. Winter is creeping closer, but for Sheriff Longmire this one is looking to be harsh in a way to which he is wholly unaccustomed. He has found himself in the remotest parts of the northern Mexican desert, a lawless place where no horse or car can travel, where no one speaks his language or trusts an outsider, far from his friends and his home turf back in Wyoming. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Tomas Bidarte, the head of one of the most vicious drug cartels in Mexico, has kidnapped Walt's beloved daughter, Cady. The American government is of limited help and the Mexican one even less so. Armed with his trusty Colt .45 and a father's intuition, Walt must head into the 110-degree heat of the desert, one man against an army. Extrait 1 I turned my water glass in the slick circle of condensation on the smooth, red lacquer of the table between us and studied the man across from me. I was afraid that if I didn't pay attention, he might disappear. The Seer was like that; it was as if he simply drifted away, giving him access to places without appearing to be there, making other people's secrets his own. "You should take in some of the culture while you are here south of the border-go to the bullfights." Adjusting his straw porkpie hat to a jauntier angle, the hunchback smiled. "You might enjoy it." I said nothing. He looked in my general direction, the smile slowly fading. "My friend, Miguel Guerra, says you are highly motivated, but that if I can talk you out of this, I should." I still said nothing. He stared at me. "Do you speak Spanish?" I wiped the sweat from under my eyes with a thumb and forefinger-I had a hard time convincing myself it was coming up on November. "Very little." He had taken his cheap sunglasses off and placed them next to his drink. His eyes were opaque, and they wandered past me, toward the knobby hills to the south that rose from the desert like a bony hand, the fingers spreading to make peaks and battlements, as if the mountains were at war with the flat land. "That's not good, because where you are going there will be places where no one speaks English." The Seer sipped his soft drink and then batted the white cane between the knees of his threadbare pants at the exact place where his legs ended. "Your English is very good." He shrugged. "I have lived my whole life here in Ju‡rez and back before the new drugs, we were just a suburb of El Paso." He glanced down at his truncated legs. "Not the old drugs that did this. My mother traveled to Germany in the sixties and was given the drug that took my legs and my sight and in the process gave me this humped back." He vaguely waved at it sitting there like one of the battlements behind him. "Did you know that hunchbacks are seen as lucky in my country-that we bring good fortune?" "I hope that's the case." "Personally, it has never brought me any providence." He paused for a moment and then turned toward the Club Kentucky, seeing it the way it was in his mind's eye. "Ju‡rez used to be Las Vegas before there was a Las Vegas-twenty-four-hour bars, casinos, cabarets, brothels." The Seer sipped his soda. "It is said that this club invented the margarita." He nodded. "Marilyn Monroe sat on that very stool where you sit now." "How do you know Marilyn Monroe?" He smiled broadly for the first time, and I was surprised at the blinding perfection of his teeth. "My mother was here." "In this bar?" "S’, January twenty-first, 1961. Monroe filed for divorce from Arthur Miller here in Ju‡rez. She was with two men, her lawyers, Aurellano Gonz‡lez Vargas and Arturo Sosa Afficher moinsAfficher plus