Mary Higgins Clark: Before I Say Good-Bye, Kartoniert / Broschiert

Beschreibung

A young woman probing into the mysterious circumstances of her husband's death receives a message from a medium claiming to be his channel in Mary Higgins Clark's No. 1 bestselling thriller,
BEFORE I SAY GOOD-BYE.
When Nell MacDermott learns that her husband, architect Adam Cauliff, and three of his business associates have died in an explosion of his new cabin cruiser, she is not only devastated but wracked with guilt. The last time she saw Adam, they had a bitter quarrel over her plan to run for the congressional seat long held by her grandfather; she had told him not to come home.
As the investigation into the boat's explosion proceeds, Nell learns that it was not an accident but a bomb. Despite her skepticism, Nell is swayed by her great-aunt Gert, a believer in psychic powers, to see a medium claiming to be Adam's channel.
While trying to unravel the threads of Adam's past and his violent end, Nell consults the medium, who transmits messages to her with instructions from Adam. The story reaches a powerful climax in Nell's final encounter with the medium, in which she learns the truth about the explosion -- truth she can't be allowed to live and tell.

Rezension

The New York Times Book Review Mary Higgins Clark knows what she's doing....This savvy author comes up with something unexpected....A hold-your-breath ending.

Klappentext

When Nell MacDermott learns that her husband, Adam Cauliff, died when his boat exploded, she's wracked with guilt. The last time she saw him, they quarreled bitterly over his plans to run for Congress. As the investigation proceeds, Nell discovers Adam's death was no accident. She turns to a spiritual medium--and Nell uncovers dark secrets about her husband.

Auszüge aus dem Buch

Chapter One

Nell set off at a brisk pace on her familiar walk from her apartment on Park Avenue and Seventy-third Street to her grandfather's office on Seventy-second and York. From the peremptory summons she had received, demanding that she be there by three o'clock, she knew that the situation with Bob Gorman must have come to a head. As a result she was not looking forward to the meeting.

Deep in thought, she was oblivious to the admiring glances that occasionally came her way. After all, she and Adam were happily married. Still, she knew that some people found a tall woman, with the slim, strong body of an athlete, short chestnut-colored hair that was now forming into humidity-caused ringlets, midnight-blue eyes, and a generous mouth, attractive. While growing up, and frequently attending public events with her grandfather, Nell's rueful observation was that when the media described her, that was usually the word used -- "attractive."

"To me, attractive is like having a guy say, 'She's not much to look at, but what a personality!' It's the kiss of death. Just once I want to be described as 'beautiful' or 'elegant' or 'stunning' or even 'stylish,'" she had complained when she was twenty.

Typically, her grandfather's comment had been, "For God's sake don't be so silly. Be grateful you've got a head on your shoulders and know how to use it."

The trouble was that she knew already what he wanted to discuss with her today, and the way he was going to ask her to use her head was a problem. His plans for her and Adam's objections to them were most decidedly an issue.

At eighty-two, Cornelius MacDermott had lost little of the vigor that for decades had made him one of the nation's most prominent congressmen. Elected at thirty to represent the midtown Manhattan district where he had been raised, he stayed in that spot for fifty years, resisting all arguments to run for the Senate. On his eightieth birthday he had chosen not to run again. "I'm not trying to beat Strom Thurmond's record as the longest-serving guy on the Hill," he had announced.

Retirement for Mac meant opening a consulting office and making sure that New York City and State stayed in his party's political fold. An endorsement from him was a virtual laying on of hands for neophyte campaigners. Years ago he had created his party's most famous election commercial on TV: "What did that other bunch ever do for you?" followed by silence and a succession of bewildered expressions. Recognized everywhere, he could not walk down the street without being showered with affectionate and respectful greetings.

Occasionally he grumbled to Nell about his status as a local celebrity: "Can't set foot outside my door without making sure I'm camera ready."

To which she replied, "You'd have a heart attack if people ignored you, and you know it."

When she reached his office today, Nell waved to the receptionist and walked back to her grandfather's suite. "The mood?" she asked Liz Hanley, his longtime secretary.

Liz, a handsome sixty-year-old, with dark brown hair and a no-nonsense expression, raised her eyes to heaven. "It was a dark and stormy night," she said.

"Oh boy, that bad," Nell said with a sigh. She tapped on the door of the private office as she let herself in. "Top of the day, Congressman."

"You're late, Nell," Cornelius MacDermott barked, as he spun his desk chair around to face her.

par"Not according to my watch. Three on the dot."

"I thought I told you to get here by three."

"I had a column to turn in, and unfortunately my editor shares your sentiments about punctuality. Now, how about showing me the winning smile that melts the voters' hearts?"

"Today I haven't got one. Sit down, Nell." Mac-Dermott indicated the couch situated beneath the corner window that offered panoramic views of the city east and north. He had chosen that office because it gave hi