Best books by genre: Mystery & Thrillers

Forensic anthropologist Dr. Temperance Brennan is confused as to how she got where she is. Somehow, Brennan is badly injured and tied securely in what appears to be an underground tomb. As she regains her senses, slowly flashes of what happened to her begin to appear in her mind. Based on an anonymous tip to authorities, Brennan arrived in Chicago with Andrew Ryan of the Serete du Quebec where she is being accused of erring in her autopsy of Canadian heiress Rose Jurmain. Meanwhile back in her Montreal lab, Brennan links Jurmain's death to the brutal murders of other elderly women by a particularly nasty serial killer. As she explores her premise further, she is just beginning to understand she is a trapped rodent in a deadly cat and mouse game. This is a super thriller that contains several strong subplots; especially intriguing is the challenge to the heroine's competency from an unknown source who seems to know forensics. Much more personal than usual, the courageous Dr. Brennan feels like a hunted animal who though wounded goes after her predator.

The London season had not yet reached its height, some years ago, beforethe arch admitting to Constitution Hill had been swept back to make roomfor the huge, ever-increasing stream of traffic, or the plebeian 'bushad been permitted to penetrate the precincts of Hamilton Place. It wasthe forenoon of a splendid day, one of the earliest of June, and at thathour the roadway between the entrance to Hyde Park and the gate thensurmounted by the statue of the Duke of Wellington on his drooping steedwas comparatively free, when two gentlemen coming from oppositedirections recognized each other, and paused at the gate of ApsleyHouse--the elder, a stout, florid man of military aspect, middle age,and average height, with large gray mustache and small, slightlybloodshot eyes; the younger, who was tall and bony, might have beenthirty, or even forty, so grave and sedate was his bearing, although hiserect carriage, elastic step, and clear keen dark eyes suggested earliermanhood.

The London season had not yet reached its height, some years ago, beforethe arch admitting to Constitution Hill had been swept back to make roomfor the huge, ever-increasing stream of traffic, or the plebeian 'bushad been permitted to penetrate the precincts of Hamilton Place. It wasthe forenoon of a splendid day, one of the earliest of June, and at thathour the roadway between the entrance to Hyde Park and the gate thensurmounted by the statue of the Duke of Wellington on his drooping steedwas comparatively free, when two gentlemen coming from oppositedirections recognized each other, and paused at the gate of ApsleyHouse--the elder, a stout, florid man of military aspect, middle age,and average height, with large gray mustache and small, slightlybloodshot eyes; the younger, who was tall and bony, might have beenthirty, or even forty, so grave and sedate was his bearing, although hiserect carriage, elastic step, and clear keen dark eyes suggested earliermanhood.

Marcel Allain (1885-1970) was a French writer mostly remembered today for his co-creation with Pierre Souvestre (1874-1914) of the fictional arch-villain and master criminal Fantomas. Allain studied law before becoming a journalist. He then became the assistant of Souvestre, who was already a well-known figure in literary circles. In 1909, the two men published their first novel, Le Rour. Investigating Magistrate Germain Fuselier, later to become a recurring character in the Fantomas series, appears in the novel. Then, in 1911, Allain and Souvestre embarked upon the Fantomas book series at the request of publisher Artheme Fayard, who wanted to create a new monthly pulp magazine. The success was immediate and lasting. After Souvestre's death in 1914, Allain continued the Fantomas saga alone, then launched several other series, such as Tigris, Fatala, Miss Teria and Ferocias, but none garnered the same popularity as Fantomas. In total, Allain wrote more than 400 novels in his prolific career. His works include: Un Roi Prisonnier de Fantomas (1911), Le Fiacre de Nuit (1911), La Livree du Crime (1912) and Le Jockey Masqué (1913).

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: CHAPTER III THE TRAGEDY OF THE RUE DE MONCEAU SUSY d'ORSEL, tired of waiting for her royal lover, was sound asleep before the fire in her bedroom. Suddenly she was awakened by a loud noise. Still half asleep, she sat up listening. The sounds came from the stairs. Mechanically Susy glanced at the clock, which marked the quarter after three. "I'll bet it's him, but how late he is!" As the sounds drew nearer, she added: "He must be as drunk as a lord! After all, Kings are no better than other men." She quickly passed to the outer door and listened. "Why, it sounds as if there were two of them!" A key fumbled in the lock, then the owner of it apparently gave up the task as hopeless and began ringing the bell. Susy opened the door and Frederick-Christian staggered in followed by a man who was a total stranger to her. The latter, bowing in a correct and respectful manner, carried himself with dignity. The King bubbled over with laughter and leaned on the shoulder of his lady-love. "Take off your overcoat," she said, at length, and while he was attempting to obey her, she whispered: "If your Maj ..." Before she could finish the sentence the King put his hand over her mouth. "My . . . my ... my dear Susy . . . I'm very fond of you . . . but don't begin by saying stupid things. ... I am here . . . incog . . . incognito. Call me your little Cri-Cri, Susy. ..." "My dear," she replied, "introduce me to your friend." "Eh," cried the King, "if I'm not forgetting the most elementary obligations of the protocol; but after fourteen whiskeys, and good whiskey, too, though I've better here. . . . Susy don't drink any, she prefers gooseberry syrup . . . queer taste, isn't it?" Susy saw the conversation was getting away from the point, so repe...

First published in France in 1911, this novel was the fifth in the Fantomas series, detailing the further adventures of the Lord of Terror. It was published in the US in 1917 and has remained out of print until now. Original editions of this book are among the rarest of all the Fantomas novels. E-text of this novel occasionally turn up on the internet, but those versions are missing the end of the novel. This is currently the only unexpurgated version of A ROYAL PRISONER available in any format! This edition also includes and introduction and many rare images that trace Fantomas' place in American popular culture.

Thriller murders have been amazing little town for eight years. It is six corpses and it will be more…The method of killing is identical, the backgrounds of the girls very similar - all of them prostitutes. As the book opens, a seventh body is found, same modus operandi but the victim this time is a young student, sweet, innocent, with 'the face of an angel'…

“Along Came a Spider” gives rise to the well-known series devoted to a famous psychologist Alex Cross. Here he investigates kidnapping of little children, which confront him first with Gary Soneji, a mathematics teacher and a psychopathic serial kidnapper and murderer. Cross is to solve an uneasy problem – how to outsmart an ingenious psychopath, who managed to deceive the FBI, the Secret Service, and the police. Soneji doesn’t hold children to ransom and the detective understands he prefers a terrible unpredictable game to any money. This spectacular international bestseller became one of the fastest-selling thrillers in the world.

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: Ill BETWEEN THE TREATY PORTS I Never see my waitress spreading the embroidered cloth I bought in Hong-Kong but the whole occurrence comes back to me, together with the remembrance of the sights and sounds of that hot May day. The table-cloth—folded into a neat bundle —was under my arm as I stepped from the cool embroidery-shop into the blinding glare of Queen's Road. My head ached and I would never have joined the crowd gathered about some itinerant jugglers if it had not been for a charmingly dressed woman, accompanied by a Chinese servant, who stood watching them. After fifteen months of following my husband's ship up and down the Asiatic station, my wardrobe had reached the state where it was wise, when possible, to ignore it; and the sight of such a dress as that woman wore was, at first, more of an attraction than thejuggling. And, upon closer inspection, I decided that she justified the gown, for she was very lovely. She hesitated, then smiling back at me motioned toward the jugglers. "The cleverest I've ever seen—they're really worth watching," she said. They were. Soon I was completely engrossed by their remarkable achievements. A rose-tree sprouted, grew, and blossomed in the middle of the street. A stork emerged from an egg, flourished, and flew away. The basket trick held us—loitering ricksha coolies, Englishmen, Chinese gentlemen, and a few women—absorbed in the glaring noonday sunshine, while my new acquaintance and I admired and wondered and her Chinese servant watched us with black, unblinking eyes. There came a pause. The older juggler passed a small basket among his audience and, dissatisfied, handed it round a second time. The money was counted and divided. I remembered my headache and thought of the cool hotel. "They seem to have finis...