Harry Bosch is California's newest private investigator. He doesn't advertise, he doesn't have an office, and he's picky about who he works for, but it doesn't matter. His chops from thirty years with the LAPD speak for themselves.
It is 1947, and the long-retired Sherlock Holmes lives in a remote Sussex farmhouse with his housekeeper and her young son. He tends to his bees, writes in his journal, and grapples with the diminishing powers of his mind.
Estamos en 1947. Sherlock Holmes se retiró de su labor como investigador hace ya mucho tiempo y ahora es un anciano de noventa y tres anos. Vive en una granja remota, en Sussex, con su ama de llaves y el joven hijo de esta.
In einem Frankfurter Vorstadtbordell empfängt eine junge Hure einen Freier, einen ihrer Stammkunden. Nichts weist darauf hin, dass sich dieses Zusammentreffen irgendwie von den bisherigen unterscheiden wird. Man geht aufs Zimmer.
It's the middle of summer. On Cornish sea-fronts, happy children grip melting ice-creams. In the south of France, sunlight filters through leaves as families picnic in the shade. And in the fashionable resorts of the Mediterranean, the beautiful people s
Edinburgh, 1888. A violinist is murdered in his home. The dead virtuoso's maid swears she heard three musicians playing in the night. But with only one body in the locked practice room - and no way in or out - the case makes no sense.