By P. D. James
Whilst the quiet Little sacristy of St. Matthew's Church turns into the blood-soaked scene of a double homicide, Scotland backyard Commander Adam Dalgliesh faces an exciting conundrum: How did an upper-crust Minister come to lie, slit throat to slit throat, subsequent to an area derelict of the bottom order? Challenged with the research of a criminal offense that looks to have never-ending causes, Dalgliesh explores the sinister internet spun round a half-burnt diary and a violet-eyed widow who's pregnant and entire of malice--all the whereas hoping to fill the distance of good judgment that joined those disparate males in shiny purple loss of life. . . .
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Additional info for A Taste for Death (Inspector Adam Dalgliesh, Book 7)
Roses and lilies nodded over it, like mourners at the ark of the dead. Night drew a mantle of black silk over the Ark. The moon came out of the clouds, and, weaving its silvery web, traced a Star of David on the shroud. 3 On her couch in the night Dinah lies and her heart wakes. Her sin weighs heavil�· upon her : who could bear her burden of guilt? Dinah buries her head in her pallet, oppressed by sorrow, by shame. How can she look to Heaven, how call to it for grace? Dinah springs from her couch and lights the taper in her room.
Ithout asking tqem. Time does not stand still. but I was standing still. seeking my father's house. not l-no"\\i ng where it was. For been in the town in man:· years and I I had not had forgotten many of its roads, and the town itself had changed somewhat. Then I remembered that Father li\·ed next to a man who was known b\· everYone. I looked for someone who would tell me where the house was. :\ Iy eyes shut themseh·es again. \Vith all m:· might I struggled to open them. They opened j ust a narrow crack again.
Translated by I. M. osE TO THE Passover holiday it happened. I was far away from my father's house and my home town, and I was going about my work, which has neither beginning nor end, work which you start to no advantage and which never sets you free. Two men smeared with plaster and paint arrived, one of them holding a ladder. Actually I should say that the ladder stood by itself and he, that is, this man with the ladder, weaved his arms through the rungs. " I was involved in my work, and it was difficult for me to stop.
A Taste for Death (Inspector Adam Dalgliesh, Book 7) by P. D. James