Vendredi Saint

by Boris Starling

Des petites cuilleres en argent... Au rythme ou vont les choses, le commissaire Red Metcalfe, de Scotland Yard, en aura bientot un service complet. Mais pas question de les sortir pour le the ce sont des pieces a conviction. Detail etrange, chacune a ete trouvee... dans une bouche. Plus dans la bouche sans langue d'une victime. De decouvertes macabres en fausses pistes, la psychose gagne Londres, amplifiee par les medias. Depuis, Jack l'eventreur, la capitale anglaise n'avait pas connu de meurtrier aussi determine, aussi insaisissable. D'autant que Langue d'Argent semble agir au hasard, garnissant son tableau de chasse d'un traiteur, d'un eveque, d'un militaire... Ou un poignard pourrait suffire, le psychopathe varie en outre les corde, massue, epee... A quel mobile obeit ce virtuose, dont la folie n'a d'egale que l'habilete ? En l'absence totale d'indices, quel detail le trahira ? Telles sont les questions posees au commissaire Metcalfe, auquel il faudra, pour penetrer dans le cerveau dement du tueur, user de toutes ses ressources.

534 pages, Kindle Edition

Published July 1, 2016

About the author

Boris Starling's writing career began at the age of eight, when his English teacher spotted that his short story was (a) unusually good for a child his age (b) copied verbatim from Tintin's 'Prisoners Of The Sun.' (That was also the first time he learnt the word 'verbatim', not to mention the term 'copyright violation'.)

All his work since then has been strictly his own. He has written eight novels, including Sunday Times and New York Times bestsellers. Five appear under his own name (Messiah, Storm, Vodka, Visibility and, in a daring breakout from one-word titles, The Stay-Behind Cave) and three as Daniel Blake (Soul Murder (UK)/Thou Shalt Kill (US), City Of Sins (UK)/City Of The Dead (US) and White Death). Every one of these books features someone dying horribly somewhere along the way. Sometimes they even deserve it.

Boris also created the 'Messiah' franchise which ran for seven years on BBC1, and has written screenplays for productions in the UK and US.

He has inherited his grandfather's male pattern baldness, but sadly not his prodigious height. He is a keen sportsman, though he has now reached the age where enthusiasm and experience are beginning to trump sheer skill. He lives in Dorset, England, with his wife, children, greyhounds, and however many chickens manage to keep clear of marauding foxes.