David Edgerley Gates: 5 books

It’s said things come in threes, a run of good luck at cards, a run of bad luck in love. But the penny doesn’t always drop until the third time around. Come the third time, you snap your mental fingers, and tell yourself, I knew that.

McElroy made the dive from a point on the riverbank a thousand yards upstream from the triangulated position of the wreckage. The skin of ice sighed as he slipped under it, and the dark water closed over his head like a shroud.

The room was perhaps twelve feet by eight, brightly lit. There were no cabinets or other built-in furnishings. There was a stainless steel table, on casters, big enough for a recumbent body, which I found a little sinister. There was a drain in the tiled floor. There was a single utilitarian folding...

Simon Straw smiled. It was a disarming smile, almost apologetic. It wasn’t meant to give insult. His stance was relaxed, practically nerveless, none of his muscles tensed, his hands at his sides, the elbows slightly bent, like a man ready to pick up a glass. His gun was worn high on the hip, a .44...

It was cold by the Landwehr Canal. The crime scene was contained inside a small perimeter, and understated, no portable generator or halogen lamps. Ambulance, hazard lights off, a diver, already stripping out of his wetsuit, the patrol car, two uniforms next to it, an unmarked vehicle, with a driver....