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Escape the Night von Eberhart, Mignon G. (eBook)

  • Erscheinungsdatum: 10.12.2014
  • Verlag: Bastei Lübbe AG
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Escape the Night

While visiting her sister, a woman becomes ensnared in a cursed house. Serena's last memories of California are of her sister Amanda's wedding to Sutton Condit, a wealthy rancher from Monterey's oldest family. But when she remembers those days, she doesn't think of the bride but instead dreams of Jem, a sturdy young man who won her heart so completely that, when she couldn't have him, she fled to New York. Four years later she returns for a visit, and Jem is as charming as ever. He hasn't changed, but everything else on the Condit ranch has. Bitterness has crept into Amanda's entourage, and strange secrets pollute the fine California air. Something terrible is afoot in the Condit mansion, and Serena has just begun to sense it when Sutton's aunt tumbles off a cliff near the house. The old woman's plunge seems like an accident until more murders follow. Nothing can protect Serena from the menace that haunts Monterey. Review Quote. 'Suspense to the very end.' - The New York Times 'You can't beat Mignon Eberhart.' - New York Herald Tribune 'One of the great ladies of twentieth-century mystery fiction.' - John Jakes, author of the Kent Family Chronicles Biographical note. Mignon G. Eberhart (1899-1996) wrote dozens of mystery novels over a nearly six decade-long career. Born in Lincoln, Nebraska, she began writing in high school, trading English essays to her fellow students in exchange for math homework. She attended Nebraska Wesleyan University, and in the 1920s began writing fiction in her spare time, publishing her first novel, The Patient in Room 18, in 1929. With the follow-up, While The Patient Slept (1931), she won a 5,000 Scotland Yard Prize, and by the end of the 1930's was one of the most popular female mystery writers on the planet. Before Agatha Christie ever published a Miss Marple novel, Eberhart was writing romantic crime fiction with female leads. Eight of her books, including While the Patient Slept and Hasty Wedding (1938) were adapted as films. Made a Mystery Writers of America grandmaster in 1971, Eberhart continued publishing roughly a book a year until the 1980s. Her final novel Three Days for Emeralds, was published in 1988.

Produktinformationen

    Format: ePUB
    Kopierschutz: none
    Seitenzahl: 188
    Erscheinungsdatum: 10.12.2014
    Sprache: Englisch
    ISBN: 9783958592407
    Verlag: Bastei Lübbe AG
    Größe: 1257 kBytes
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Escape the Night

CHAPTER ONE

SHE KNEW THAT SOMETHING was happening in the house.

The knowledge of it obtruded itself stealthily between her and the book in her hands so she read the same lines over and over, not taking in their sense. She was listening so hard that it was as if her eyes and hands and every pore in her body had suddenly developed audient power; but there was nothing to hear. The house was quiet.

After a moment she closed the book with a quick thrust of her hands and got up decisively, and then just stood there listening again. She was a woman of fifty-odd; Luisa de la Vega Condit, aunt of Sutton Condit, the present owner of the great Condit ranch. It was one of the oldest ranches of the Monterey peninsula. The long, half-shabby, half-elegant room in which she stood, with its blue and red rugs, blue curtains and chintz-covered chairs, had seen much of California history in the making, although the house itself had been added onto and changed from time to time. It was now a gracious blend of the old and the new, built in Spanish-California fashion around two sides of an open patio, with a high white wall enclosing the patio's fourth side. From the windows Luisa could see mountains covered patchily with oaks and pine and broom, and nearer the tall hedge of eucalyptus trees beyond which, at some distance, lay the barns and sheds and corrals. From the other side of the house, the patio side, one had a view of the sea.

Luisa de la Vega Condit had a small, forceful head with coal-black hair and pale-blue, observant eyes which now looked perplexed. The de la Vega side of the family were Castilians, blue-eyed Castilians, and proud of it. The Condit side were New England; her nephew, Sutton Condit was all New England. When she thought of her nephew, Sutton, she thought of his wife Amanda. They were moving cattle that morning, and Amanda had gone out very early in riding clothes; Amanda knew more of the ranch, really, than Sutton, although they'd been married only four years. Luisa shrugged, put her book down on the long table with its great bowls of pink and lavender stock and the bronze statuettes of two famous Condit horses. She left the room, crossed the narrow hall and went out into the patio.

She saw and heard no one. The two-storied house, with its double verandas and the flagged walks of the patio, seemed deserted. Frowning and rather uneasy, she crossed the patio and stood in the open, arched doorway in the white wall. This gave upon the graveled and sanded driveway, white in the sun, and beyond it a breathtaking view of the valley and sea far below.

It was a clear morning, early. The sea was incredibly blue, and waves curled whitely over jagged black rocks. She could see part of the little green and white and yellow village of Carmel; beyond and above were mountains, lifting up to the lofty head of Torro. The bay of Carmel and Still Water Cove were cups of blue; tiny black points in a group near some rocks were the little pointed heads of seals. Cypress Point thrust out jaggedly and blackly into the blue Pacific and, way above in the sky, silver against the blue, a dirigible drifted, looking for Japanese submarines. Luisa watched it all for a moment, diverted. War and submarines and dirigibles; Red Cross work and organization to cope with possible air raids; point rationing and taxes and the price of beef; men you knew leaving for war and undertaking experiences which few women, ever, can really comprehend.

The changes, mused Luisa, that war makes!

Brooding, she forgot for the moment the uneasy feeling that had driven her out into the patio. She turned and stumped heavily toward one of the two flights of stairs at the left and right of the patio opposite each other, leading to the upper floor of the double veranda and to the line of bedroom doors. The patio was the heart and life of the house; there was, in fact, no other means of communication between the li

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