Noir Fiction

"Il m'aura fallu courir le monde et tomber d'un toit pour saisir que je disposais là, sous mes yeux, dans un pays si proche dont j'ignorais les replis, d'un réseau de chemins campagnards ouverts sur le mystère, baignés de pur silence, miraculeusement vides. La vie me laissait une chance, il était donc grand temps de traverser la France à pied sur mes chemins noirs. Là, personne ne vous indique ni comment vous tenir, ni quoi penser, ni même la direction à prendre." (Sylvain Tesson)

It's 1918. The war in Europe grinds on, and the Spanish flu seems to be on an insatiable killing spree. But in the small fishing village of Parrsboro, Nova Scotia, a more confined drama-harrowing and provocative-slowly unfolds. It begins when Elizabeth Frame murders her husband hours after their wedding and thrusts the revolver into the blowhole of a beached whale.

Le gouverneur poussa un cri désespéré et se jeta sur son arme. L'homme des collines passa à l'action avec la vitesse dévastatrice d'un ouragan.Il bondit, envoya le gouverneur rouler à terre d'un puissant coup du pommeau de son poignard, saisit la Devi sous un bras puissant et bondit vers la fenêtre. Chunder Shan fit des efforts frénétiques pour se relever et vit l'homme rester un instant en équilibre sur le rebord de la fenêtre, dans une volée des habits de soie et des membres blancs de sa captive royale.

Dans le secret du confessionnal, on confie au père Gabriel une mission. Récupérer à l'asile voisin, sous la jupe d'une femme dont il doit bénir le corps, de mystérieux cahiers. C'est ainsi que sortent de l'ombre les carnets de la jeune Rose, ceux dans lesquels elle a conté son histoire, cherchant à briser le secret dont on voulait couvrir son destin.

Left to her own devices, Detective Sergeant Charlie West struggles with the responsibility of a full-blown murder investigation when a man is pushed off a cliff. Not ready to have her apron strings severed so soon, West finds Munro who reluctantly agrees to shed light on the Ayrshire detectives' most challenging case yet. Once the police have discovered the identity of the dead man, and established his demise was the result of foul play, the race is on to hunt down the murderer.

Former car thief Ray Lilly is now the expendable grunt of a sorcerer responsible for destroying extradimensional predators summoned to our world by power-hungry magicians. Luckily, Ray has some magic of his own, and so far it's kept him alive. But when a friend from his former gang calls him back to his old stomping grounds in Los Angeles, Ray may have to face a threat even he can't handle.

Chicago private investigator Michael Kelly is hired by his former partner, John Gibbons, to help solve an eight-year-old rape and battery case, a case it turns out his old friend was once ordered to forget. When Gibbons turns up dead on Navy Pier, Kelly enlists a team of his savviest colleagues to connect the dots between the recent murder and the cold case it revived.

It was just another Tuesday morning when she walked into the office - young, as I suspected they all might be, another dark brunette with some assistance and enough eye black to match up to Cleopatra. And who am I? I'm Ray, the world's last robot, famed and feared in equal measure, which suits me just fine - after all, the last place you'd expect to find Hollywood's best hit man is in the plain light of day.

In an alternate 2009, the United States has been a second-rate power for a quarter of a century, ever since Argentina’s victory in the Falkland’s War thanks to their development of “psychopigments.” Created as weapons, these colorful chemicals can produce almost any human emotion upon contact, and they have been embraced in the US as both pharmaceutical cure-alls and popular recreational drugs. Black market traders illegally sell everything from Blackberry Purple (which causes terror) to Sunshine Yellow (which delivers happiness).

Retrouvez dans chacune de ces nouvelles l'humour en coup de poing, la fantaisie verbale, l'imagination drolatique et le goût du canular qui ont fait la célébrité de Boris Vian.

Un dettaglio. È sempre un dettaglio a fare la differenza. Capita a Cristina Mandas di dimenticare il compleanno del marito. Che vuoi che sia. Invece, la svista è il primo scricchiolio di una vita che sta per andare in frantumi. Perché a quarant’anni Cristina non è la maestra, la moglie, la madre, stimata e ben voluta dalla comunità di quel paesino sardo in cui si è trasferita tempo prima. Dietro la cortina di un’esistenza comune, custodisce un segreto che deve rimanere sepolto nelle profondità di un pozzo.

Wes Cooper was dead. Then he wasn't-though he's not exactly alive, either. As an immortal not-ghost, he can transition between this world and the otherplane, which makes him the perfect thief for hire. For 70 years he's made a "living" returning items to their rightful owners, seeing his fair share of the bizarre in the process. But he's never witnessed murder. Until now.

Jack Till, who has retired from the LAPD after a respected career as a homicide detective, now works as a private investigator, comfortable chasing down routine cases while visiting his 24-year-old daughter, Holly, who has Down Syndrome. But when the parents of a recently murdered young girl, about Holly's age, ask for his help when the police come up empty, Till reluctantly takes the case.

Dans un appartement, un jeune homme gît dans un bain de sang sans qu'il y ait le moindre signe d'effraction ou de lutte. Pas d'arme du crime, rien que cette entaille en travers de la gorge de la victime. Et dans sa poche, des cachets de Rohypnol, connu sous le nom de drogue du viol... Runolfur a-t-il violé une femme qui s'est ensuite vengée ? Un châle trouvé sous le lit va mettre Elinborg, l'inspectrice qui remplace Erlendur, sur la piste d'une jeune femme.

Siglufjörður: an idyllically quiet fishing village in Northern Iceland, where no one locks their doors - accessible only via a small mountain tunnel. Ari Thór Arason: a rookie policeman on his first posting, far from his girlfriend in Reykjavik - with a past that he’s unable to leave behind.

January '42. L.A. reels behind the shock of Pearl Harbor. Local Japanese residents are rounded up and slammed behind bars. Massive thunderstorms hit the city. A body is unearthed in Griffith Park. The cops tag it a routine dead-man job. They're wrong. It's an early-warning signal of chaos. There's a murderous fire and a gold heist. There's Fifth Column treason on American soil. There are homegrown Nazis, Commies, and race racketeers. It's populism ascendant. There's two dead cops in a dive off the jazz-club strip. And three men and one woman have a hot date with history.

On the day Stockholm police officer Hanna Ahlander’s personal and professional lives crash, she takes refuge at her sister’s lodge in the Swedish ski resort paradise of Åre. But it’s a brief comfort. The entire village is shaken by the sudden vanishing of a local teenage girl. Hanna can’t help but investigate, and while searching for the missing person, she lands a job with the local police department. There she joins forces with Detective Inspector Daniel Lindskog, who has been tasked with finding the girl. Their only lead: a scarf in the snow.

1313. En Terre Sainte, une compagnie de brigands attaque une cité isolée. Leur chef, Roncelin de Fos, parvient à s'emparer de la ville, sans se douter qu'elle intéresse fortement deux personnages clés : le Grand maître des Templiers et le légat du Pape. Roncelin prend la fuite avant d'être récupéré par le Temple. Pour payer sa dette, il devra retrouver le seul rabbin capable de décrypter le message que les Templiers ont découvert dans les souterrains du Temple de Salomon.

A young boy walks into a police station in France. He claims to be Carl Meagan - a missing child from Sheffield whose name is still whispered as a warning to kids who stay out after dark. On her way home from the supermarket, nine-year-old Keeley Armitage vanishes without trace. Her family is overcome with shock and DCI Matilda Darke can’t help but focus on memories of the Carl Meagan case that almost ruined her career.

Silas and I agree on one thing, and one thing only: my ruthless, heartless, narcissistic jerk of an ex-fiancé needs to be taken down a notch. So we do what anyone would do: we pretend to be a couple.