The Man with the Lead Stomach: Nicolas Le Floch Investigation #2
A Nicolas Le Floch Investigation
(Sprache: Englisch)
The first in a series of ten historical crime novels set in pre-revolutionary Paris featuring policeman Nicolas Le Floch.
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The first in a series of ten historical crime novels set in pre-revolutionary Paris featuring policeman Nicolas Le Floch.
Klappentext zu „The Man with the Lead Stomach: Nicolas Le Floch Investigation #2 “
Adapted for television in France, the second of the Nicolas Le Floch mysteries sees the protagonist undertake his second major murder investigation when the body of a prominent courtier's son is found.'It's the superb Parisian detail and atmosphere that truly beguiles' Sunday Times
An unusual death during a society evening at the Opera reveals something sinister at the heart of the French court...
October 1761 finds the newly-promoted Commissioner Le Floch on duty at a Royal performance of Rameau's latest work. Events take a dramatic turn and Nicolas soon embarks on his second major investigation when the body of a prominent courtier's son is found. The initial evidence points to suicide, but Le Floch's instincts tell him he is dealing with murder of the most gruesome kind.
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PROLOGUEPrudens futuri temporis exitum Caliginosa nocte premit Deus...
'Knowing the future, God conceals the outcome in darkest night . . .'
HORACE
On the night of Friday 2 February 1761, a horse-drawn vehicle was laboriously making its way along the highway that leads from La Courtille to La Villette. The day had been gloomy, and at nightfall, sullen skies had unleashed a fierce storm. If anyone had been keeping a watch on this road they would have noticed the cart pulled by a scrawny horse. On the seat, two men stared into the darkness, the black flaps of their capes partly visible in the gleam of a shabby lantern. The horse kept slipping on the
wet ground and stopping every twenty or so yards. Two barrels thudded against each other, jolted about by the ruts in the road.
The last houses in the faubourgs disappeared, and with them the few remaining lights. The rain ceased and the moon could be glimpsed between two clouds, casting a bluish light over a countryside enveloped in a shapeless, drifting mist. Hillsides covered with brambles now rose up on either side of the track. For some time the horse had been tossing its head and tugging nervously at the reins. A persistent smell hung in the cold night air, its lingering sweetness soon giving way to an appalling stench. The two shadowy figures had pulled their cloaks down over their faces. The horse stopped, let out a strangled whinnying and flared its nostrils, seeking to identify the foul smell. Even when lashed with a whip, it refused to get going again.
'I think this nag is giving up on us!' exclaimed Rapace, one of the men. 'I'm sure it can smell meat. Get down, Bricart, take it by the bit and get us out of here!'
'I saw the same thing at Bassignano in 1745 when I was serving in the Dauphin's Regiment with old Chevert. The beasts pulling the cannons refused to go past the corpses. It was September, it was hot and the flies . . .'
'Stop, I know all about your military campaigns. Grab the beast by
... mehr
the neck and hurry up. It just won't move!' shouted Rapace, hitting it twice on its skinny rump.
Bricart grumbled and jumped down from the cart. When he reached the ground, he sank into the mud and had to use both hands to pull out the wooden stump fitted to his right leg. He went up to the crazed animal, which made one last attempt to signal its refusal. Bricart seized the bit but the desperate beast jerked its head away, striking him on the shoulder. He fell flat on the ground, uttering a stream of obscenities.
'It won't budge. We're going to have to unload here. We can't be far.'
'I can't help you in this mud; this damned leg is useless.'
'I'll get the barrels down and we'll roll them towards the pits,' said Rapace. 'It should only take two goes. Hold the horse; I'm going to look around.'
'Don't leave me,' whined Bricart. 'I don't like it here. Is this really where they used to hang people?'
He rubbed his bad leg.
'So much for the brave old soldier! You can talk when we've finished. We'll go to Marthe's tavern. I'll treat you to a drink, and a trollop, too, if you feel like it. They stopped hanging people here before your grandfather's time. Now there's only dead cattle from the city and beyond. It's the knacker's yard - it used to be at Javel but now it's here at Montfaucon. Can't you smell the stench? In the summer, when there's a storm brewing, you even get a whiff of it in Paris, all the way to the Tuileries!'
'You're right, it stinks and I can feel presences,' murmured Bricart.
'Oh, shut up. Your presences are nothing more than rats, crows and mongrels: horribly fat ones, all fighting over the carcasses. Even the scum off the streets come here to scrape around for something to eat. Just thinking about it makes my mouth feel dry. Where did you hide the flagon? Ah, here it is!'
Rapace took a few swigs before handing it to Bricart, who emptied it greedily. They could hear high-pitched squ
Bricart grumbled and jumped down from the cart. When he reached the ground, he sank into the mud and had to use both hands to pull out the wooden stump fitted to his right leg. He went up to the crazed animal, which made one last attempt to signal its refusal. Bricart seized the bit but the desperate beast jerked its head away, striking him on the shoulder. He fell flat on the ground, uttering a stream of obscenities.
'It won't budge. We're going to have to unload here. We can't be far.'
'I can't help you in this mud; this damned leg is useless.'
'I'll get the barrels down and we'll roll them towards the pits,' said Rapace. 'It should only take two goes. Hold the horse; I'm going to look around.'
'Don't leave me,' whined Bricart. 'I don't like it here. Is this really where they used to hang people?'
He rubbed his bad leg.
'So much for the brave old soldier! You can talk when we've finished. We'll go to Marthe's tavern. I'll treat you to a drink, and a trollop, too, if you feel like it. They stopped hanging people here before your grandfather's time. Now there's only dead cattle from the city and beyond. It's the knacker's yard - it used to be at Javel but now it's here at Montfaucon. Can't you smell the stench? In the summer, when there's a storm brewing, you even get a whiff of it in Paris, all the way to the Tuileries!'
'You're right, it stinks and I can feel presences,' murmured Bricart.
'Oh, shut up. Your presences are nothing more than rats, crows and mongrels: horribly fat ones, all fighting over the carcasses. Even the scum off the streets come here to scrape around for something to eat. Just thinking about it makes my mouth feel dry. Where did you hide the flagon? Ah, here it is!'
Rapace took a few swigs before handing it to Bricart, who emptied it greedily. They could hear high-pitched squ
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Jean-François Parot
Jean-François Parot was a diplomat and historian. He is the author of the Nicolas Le Floch mysteries, which take place in eighteenth century France. The novels, beginning with The Châtelet Apprentice, have been adapted as a successful TV series shown on France 2. Parot died in 2018.Michael Glencross lives and works in France as a translator. His most recent translations into English include The Dream by Emile Zola and Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Jean-François Parot
- 2014, 338 Seiten, Maße: 12,7 x 17,7 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Übersetzer: Michael Glencross
- Verlag: Gallic Books
- ISBN-10: 1906040125
- ISBN-13: 9781906040123
- Erscheinungsdatum: 10.10.2014
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
'It's the superb Parisian detail and atmosphere that truly beguiles' Sunday Times'Reads like a cross between a Maigret mystery and Les Liaisons Dangereuses' Mail on Sunday
Praise for Jean-François Parot
'A terrific book ... brilliantly evokes the casual brutality of life in eighteenth-century France' Sunday Times
'As historical mysteries go, Victorian England has its charms; but dirty, pestilential 18th-century France really promises a walk on the wild side. Jean-François Parot delivers on that pledge with gusto' New York Times
'Has all the twists, turns and surprises the genre demands' Independent on Sunday
'Parot succeeds brilliantly in the reconstruction of of pre-revolutionary Paris' Times
'An engaging murder mystery that picks away at the delicate power balance between king, police and state' Financial Times
'The outstanding attention to historical detail and a writing style that is vaguely reminiscent of its 18th century time period sets this book apart from many in the genre' Portland Book Review
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