Un maître du polar dans Laval-des-Rapides – Courrier Laval

Depuis les parutions des trois premières enquêtes de l’agente du FBI Karen Newman, aux éditions ADA, Jacques Goyette convertit autant d’Européens que de Canadiens au roman policier.

Source: www.courrierlaval.com

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Crystal de Jacques Goyette

Description

        Chaque année, des centaines de jeunes femmes, victimes d’une guerre sans merci que se livrent les trafiquants de drogue, sont brutalement assassinées ou disparaissent de Ciudad Juárez, un village mexicain situé à moins de trois kilomètres de la frontière d’El Paso, au Texas. Lorsqu’elle apprend que son «protecteur», Eduardo Cardenas, le chef du cartel de la drogue de Tijuana, a fait assassiner ses parents dans le but d’éliminer des témoins gênants de son commerce illicite, une des disparues, Angela « Crystal » Perez, refait surface avec une seule idée en tête : se venger. Mais elle se rend vite compte qu’elle n’est pas de taille à affronter seule le tout puissant baron de la drogue. Elle accepte donc de collaborer avec Karen Newman, la responsable de la section antidrogue du FBI à New York, la seule personne qui peut empêcher qu’elle ne devienne la prochaine victime du mystérieux tueur à gages qui a exécuté ses parents. Sauf qu’elle ignore que l’agente Newman n’est peut-être pas la seule personne qui puisse l’aider dans sa quête de vengeance. Angela a oublié que les liens familiaux peuvent parfois être plus forts que toutes les épreuves d’une vie.

Si vous aimez une bonne intrigue policière avec des personnages humains et attachants, et tout ça dans un style clair et visuel, Crystal est pour vous. Jacques Goyette mérite d’être connu. Bonne lecture.

Le Cimetière des Hirondelles Mallock

Livres / Polars / Le cimetière des hirondelles de Mallock, un roman policier entre surnaturel et Histoire

• Polars

Le cimetière des hirondelles de Mallock, un roman policier entre surnaturel et Histoire,

par Sandra Bernard

Mallock, commissaire de police cartésien en diable, se trouve confronté à une enquête qui le mène aux confins du surnaturel dans le cimetière des hirondelles, le dernier polar de J.-D. Bruet-Ferreol aux éditions fleuve noir.

Manuel Gemoni, professeur d’université non violent et sans histoire, qui menait jusque là une vie de famille calme et heureuse se rend, sans prévenir quiconque et sans raisons apparentes, à l’autre bout du monde pour tuer un vieillard qui lui est inconnu.

Bien que le coupable soit parfaitement connu et que ses explications puissent sembler impossibles voire délirantes : « Je l’ai tué parce qu’il m’avait tué… », le commissaire Mallock persiste à trouver des preuves et des explications à l’improbable, quitte à faire remonter des fantômes d’un sombre passé. Mallock donne de sa personne, part à l’autre bout du monde et tient tête à ceux qui lui disent de laisser tomber, que l’affaire est déjà bouclée. Mais voilà, outre le défit intellectuel que représente cette affaire, Manuel n’est autre que le frère de Julie, l’un des membres de l’équipe du commissaire.

Une histoire surprenante qui tient le lecteur en haleine jusqu’à la révélation. Bien écrit avec un style enlevé, l’auteur navigue entre passé et présent, insistant sur les descriptions détaillées, souvent cruelles et parfois difficilement supportables. Tour à tour bourreau et victime, le jeune Manuel est emporté dans une histoire de sang et de haine qui remonte à bien avant sa naissance. Le portrait de la victime qui se dessine en creux au fil des pages apporte son lot de découvertes… macabres.

Dans cette enquête pleine de rebondissements, le commissaire Mallock n’est pas au bout de ses surprises et le lecteur non plus.

Page sur le site de l’éditeur

Informations pratiques : Titre Original LE CIMETIÈRE DES HIRONDELLES Date de parution 10 Janvier 2013 Collection Thriller Policier Nombre de pages Format 432 p. 140 x 225 mm Série Les Noirs EAN 9782265097469

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Je me souviens – Martin Michaud | Sang d’Encre Polars

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Un excellent polar québécois chroniqué par un autre Québécois sur Sang d’Encre Polars:Je me souviens de Martin Michaud http://t.co/PJDfeBCR

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Franck Hériot : Le Diable d’abord (Le Cherche Midi éd., 2013) – Le …

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Franck Hériot : Le Diable d’abord (Le Cherche Midi éd., 2013)

Au Quai des Orfèvres, le commandant Gorin est chef de groupe à la Criminelle. Il est assisté du fidèle Garnier et du    jeune Pensec, peu endurci mais plein de bonne volonté. Policier efficace âgé d’une quarantaine d’années, Philippe Gorin apparaît taciturne de nature. Le récent décès de sa mère a accentué son malaise intérieur. Côté cœur, Gorin vit depuis    un an avec la belle Évelyne. Tous deux s’entendent à merveille, même si elle a un peu bousculé les habitudes de célibataire de Gorin. Néanmoins, la principale passion du policier reste son métier    : “Chaque affaire, rencontre, défaite ou victoire le régénérait, lui faisant franchir des paliers successifs dans la compréhension des autres. Il y puisait son    énergie.”

Alors qu’il vient de recevoir personnellement une lettre anonyme codée, Gorin est chargé d’enquêter sur le meurtre    d’un inconnu. Non loin du Sacré-Cœur, l’homme a été tabassé à mort. Les policiers ignorent encore qu’Antoine Louvain, critique littéraire, avait improvisé une filature à travers Paris. Il suivait    un grand rouquin suspect aux airs de moujik, un rustaud ayant rencontré des personnes élégantes, dont une très belle femme et une sorte de Lord. Le rouquin était un russe nommé Vadim Smirnoff. Vu    l’importance de sa mission en cours, il a préféré éliminé un gêneur tel que Louvain, avant de s’envoler vers Khabarovsk. Une ville proche de la Chine, où Vadim entretient des contacts pour un    projet aussi secret que risqué.

Un schizophrène s’est évadé d’un hôpital psychiatrique, faisant plusieurs victimes, avant de rejoindre la femme qui    l’a incité à s’échapper. Elle a préparé un refuge provisoire pour ce malade mental dangereux. Elle le baptise Faust, prenant elle-même le pseudo de Némésis. Le monstre va vite passer à l’action.    Le cadavre d’un SDF est découvert décapité sur l’Île-aux-Cygnes, îlot de la Seine au centre de Paris. “Salut Gorin ! T’as le bonjour de Faust !” Tel est le message que    le tueur a laissé sur les lieux, aussi incompréhensible que la lettre anonyme pour Gorin. Le cadavre de Louvain est identifié, ce qui n’offre guère de pistes aux enquêteurs. Il était trop    solitaire pour avoir des ennemis l’exposant à une mort si brutale.

La belle commissaire Laura Antonelli est aujourd’hui un des piliers de la DCRI, au même titre que son collègue    Marbot de la DGSE, un homme aux allures de Lord. S’apercevant que Vadim est recherché par la Crim’, Laura renoue avec Gorin, bien qu’une certaine tension persiste entre eux. Elle ne lui révèle    rien de l’affaire qui relie son service avec le Russe. Le plus délicat est de ne pas se laisser prendre de vitesse par Gorin, dont elle connaît la ténacité. En effet, tandis que Faust rôde    toujours autour du policier, s’en prenant bientôt à sa compagne Évelyne, Gorin va devoir s’éloigner de Paris pour approcher de la vérité, bien aidé par Pensec. Peut-être fera-t-il aussi la    lumière sur un aspect plus personnel ?…

Apparu dans “La femme que    j’aimais”, Gorin est un personnage complexe, flic pur et dur, mais aussi un homme tourmenté : “Tout le monde convenait qu’il était    probablement l’un des meilleurs limiers qu’ait jamais eu la Crim’, mais son caractère renfermé, sa difficulté à communiquer avec ses collègues, ses brusques sautes d’humeur, l’avaient    marginalisé. Peu nombreux auraient été ceux prêts à le soutenir en cas de coup dur. La rumeur l’accusait même de faire preuve, parfois, de plus de compassion pour les criminels qu’il arrêtait que    pour ses collègues policiers.”

Le voici qui s’occupe d’une affaire meurtrière terriblement mystérieuse. Si Gorin n’en possède pas les clés, le    lecteur est mieux informé que lui. Car on ne nous cache pas l’évasion de Faust, la filature de Louvain, le voyage de Vadim, le rôle de chaque protagoniste, bien d’autres péripéties singulières et    énigmatiques. Il s’agit davantage d’un roman d’aventures, avec ses multiples méandres et son atmosphère où planent tant de questions, plutôt qu’une enquête classique balisée. Il convient de se    laisser porter par l’action, d’en suivre les héros même s’ils obéissent à de sombres motivations. Un palpitant suspense, dans la grande et belle tradition du genre.

Un roman chroniqué aussi chez Marine,    ici.

Contact; Description : Chaque jour de nouvelles infos sur la Littérature Policière dans toute sa diversité : polar, suspense, thriller, romans noirs et d’enquête, auteurs français et étrangers. De très nombreux liens éditeurs, …

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[Challenge Thrillers et Polars 2012] Dope – Sara Gran – Speak A Book

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Présentation: Genre: Policier Nombre de page: 270 pages Titre original: Dope Résumé éditeur: Après des années de galère, Joséphine essaie tant bien que mal de refaire sa vie. Lorsqu’un couple fortuné de Long Island lui …

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Le Blog du Polar de Velda: Mes 12 romans policiers, noirs ou …

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See on Scoop.it – Thrillers + « Mes 12 romans policiers, noirs ou thrillers préférés chroniqués en 2012″ http://t.co/mihIcWZl #polar See on leblogdupolar.blogspot.fr.

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So Close To You by Rachel Carter

Lydia Bentley has heard stories about the Montauk Project all her life: stories about the strange things that took place at the abandoned military base near her home and the people who’ve disappeared over the years. Stories about people like her own great-grandfather.
When Lydia stumbles into a portal that transports her to a dangerous and strange new reality, she discovers that all the stories she’s ever heard about the Montauk Project are true, and that she’s in the middle of one of the most dangerous experiments in history.
Alongside a darkly mysterious boy she is wary to trust, Lydia begins to unravel the secrets surrounding the Project. But the truths behind these secrets force her to question all her choices–and if Lydia chooses wrong, she might not save her family but destroy them . . . and herself.(less)

Hardcover, 320 pages

              Published            July 10th 2012             by HarperTeen

Ashes of Twilight by Kassie Tayler

Wren MacAvoy works as a coal miner for a domed city that was constructed in the mid-nineteenth century to protect the royal blood line of England when astronomers spotted a comet on a collision course with Earth. Humanity would be saved by the most groundbreaking technology of the time. But after nearly 200 years of life beneath the dome, society has become complacent and the coal is running out.

Plus there are those who wonder, is there life outside the dome or is the world still consumed by fire? When one of Wren’s friends escapes the confines of the dome, he is burned alive and put on display as a warning to those seeking to disrupt the dome’s way of life. But Alex’s final words are haunting. “The sky is blue.”

What happens next is a whirlwind of adventure, romance, conspiracy and the struggle to stay alive in a world where nothing is as it seems. Wren unwittingly becomes a catalyst for a revolution that destroys the dome and the only way to survive might be to embrace what the entire society has feared their entire existence.(less)

Paperback, 320 pages

Expected publication: November 13th 2012 by St. Martin’s Griffin

Twisted by Laura Griffin

New York Times bestselling author Laura Griffin chills with her newest novel of suspense and romance in the award-winning Tracers series, when a woman police detective in a small Texas town discovers that the only thing more terrifying than a killer you don’t know . . . is the one you do.

Motive, opportunity, and no alibi—it seems close to a slam-dunk. But while rookie detective Allison Doyle’s department has ID’d a suspect in a young woman’s vicious murder, she is uneasy. Then legendary FBI profiler Mark Wolfe shows up with a startling theory: if he’s right, the real murderer is an elusive psychopath just days away from another kill.

Using Allison’s contacts at the Delphi Center crime lab, Wolfe is finally in striking distance of the monster he’s pursued for ten years. Except that as they work together, Wolfe finds the ambitious, stubborn woman a tempting distraction. And with this brutal predator, every thread of evidence can make the difference between being the hunter . . . and the prey.

Read an Excerpt Detective Allison Doyle knew better than to expect the whole night off. But she was an optimist at heart–and she was hungry–so she pulled into the parking lot of Sal’s Quick Stop savoring the idea of a hot Meat Lover’s Supreme. Everyone in the department had been working round the clock. Allison’s reward was going to be a junk-food dinner and a mindless night in front of the tube. She pulled open the freezer and selected a sausage and double-pepperoni pizza with extra-thick crust. She made a quick detour through the dry goods section and approached the register. The store owner’s gaze darted to her. His tense expression morphed into relief. Allison’s skin prickled. Her attention snapped to the customer at the counter with his back to her. Greasy brown hair, oversize leather jacket, shoulders hunched up around his ears. His body moved back and forth with the agitated tic of a tweeker. Holdup. The flash of awareness was accompanied by a kick of dread as she realized both her hands were full. Always keep your gun hand free. Allison knew that. She’d had it drilled into her by every firearms instructor she’d ever met, and yet here she stood with an armed assailant, encumbered by a frozen pizza and a bag of kitten chow, her service weapon tucked neatly beneath her jacket. Panic threatened, but she tamped it down as she scrambled for a plan. If she dropped her groceries, she’d startle him– The man whirled around, and she cursed her hesitation. She looked at his black pistol and widened her eyes in fake surprise. “Step back!” He jabbed the gun at her with a shaking hand, then spun to Sal. Allison scanned her surroundings. No other customers, thank God. Two cars in front, including hers. No getaway driver in the other vehicle, but the headlights glowed, hinting at a running engine. Why hadn’t she noticed it? She was 0-for-3 here, and she blamed a marathon work week that had now culminated in a string of potentially deadly mistakes. The situation worsened as another car turned into the lot. It pulled up to a gas pump, and she hoped they were paying outside. The perp spun toward her again with another panicked look. White male, five-ten, one-forty. Dilated pupils. The tremor in his gun hand extended to his whole body, and he was clearly jacked up. Bad news for everyone. So was the fact that he’d made no effort to disguise himself and seemed oblivious to the security camera mounted behind the cash register. Even from ten feet away, Allison could smell the desperation on him. “I said back!” She stepped back obediently and tried to look meek. He turned to the register. “The money!” Sal reached for the cash drawer. It slid open with a ping, and Allison watched the store owner, noting all the details she’d missed at first glance. He didn’t just look tense, he looked frightened. But it was a fierce frightened, like a cornered animal. Sweat beaded at his temples as his angry gaze flashed to the man aiming the gun at him. Allison eased forward. Sal glanced at her, and his defiant look had her pulse racing. She knew exactly what he thought of this two-bit meth fiend trying to rip off his business, and she hoped he wasn’t rash enough to do anything stupid before she got this under control. Allison slid a glance at the gunman. His attention bounced nervously between Sal and her, and she prayed he wouldn’t notice the bulge beneath her blazer. She needed to get her hands free. Sal took out another stack of bills, and his glare implored her to do something. The perp caught the look and thrust his gun at her. “You! Over there!” He waved the pistol at the soft drink station. Damn it, she needed to get closer, not farther away. Her best chance was to disarm him at close range. “Now!” She took a baby step back. “I said now!” A burst of spittle accompanied the command. Allison took several steps back, looking deep into those desperate eyes. It was the desperation that concerned her. He wasn’t thinking logically. He was capable of anything. Those wild eyes told her he’d shoot her as soon as look at her, and the knowledge made her chest squeeze. She’d thought about being shot in the line of duty, but she’d never envisioned having her life ended by some tweeker with rotten teeth. He turned and grabbed at the bills with his free hand as Sal stacked them on the counter. “Faster!” A flutter of movement in the convex mirror near the ceiling caught her eye. She tried not to call attention to it. Meth Man turned around again, and she glanced up to see someone slipping from the corridor at the back of the store into the aisle closest to the door, which led straight to the register. Tall and dark-haired, the man wore a charcoal suit and looked remarkably like the defense attorney Allison had gone to war with in court just last week. But it wasn’t the attorney. This man was leaner and broad-shouldered and made a lot less noise. “That’s it? That’s all you got?” Meth Man snatched up the pile of twenties and waved them at Sal. “I want all of it!” Sal grumbled a response as Allison cut a glance to her left. The businessman hunched low now behind a beer display. His gaze locked with hers, and his hard expression commanded her to stay put. Commanded, as in he was used to giving orders. Just her luck. Don’t try to be a hero, she tried to tell him with her eyes, but his focus was on the confrontation now. “Hand it over!” The perp was bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet–shrill and angry, but distracted. Now was her chance. She flung the pizza away like a Frisbee. In the next instant of confusion, she whipped out her gun and lunged for the man’s weapon. His pistol tracked her. She registered the black barrel pointed at her face as a shoe came up and the gun cart-wheeled out of the perp’s hand. Allison thrust a heel into the side of his knee. He howled and crumpled to the floor. The man who’d kicked the gun away shoved Allison aside and flipped the robber onto his stomach. A Glock appeared from nowhere, and he jabbed it against the perp’s neck. “Don’t move!” Allison’s mouth fell open. The man turned and gave her a blistering look. “Who the hell are you?” she demanded. “You plan to arrest this guy?” Her shock lasted maybe a second, and then she sprang into action, jerking a pair of handcuffs from her belt and elbowing the suit out of the way. “I got it,” she said, taking control of the prisoner by dropping onto a knee on his back. The robber squirmed and spewed obscenities as she yanked his wrists back and slapped on the cuffs. Allison’s back felt damp. She took a steadying breath and tried to regain composure as she conducted the pat down. “You’re under arrest,” she said, with much more bravado than she felt at the moment. Her lips were dry, her hands clammy. She glanced up at Sal, who was on the phone with the 911 dispatcher. “Tell them to send a cage car.” Sal nodded. “You got any other weapons on you?” she asked the perp. “Knives, needles, drug paraphernalia?” He didn’t answer and she checked his pockets. When she was satisfied, she started to climb off him. He exploded in a blur of movement. Pain stung her cheek as she caught an elbow, and she had to sit on his butt to make him stop thrashing. The man in the suit pressed a shiny black wingtip between the prisoner’s shoulders as Allison struggled with his legs. At eye level was a shelf of fishing supplies, and she grabbed a roll of twine. She ripped open the package with her teeth and lashed the binding around his ankles. The prisoner cursed and squirmed for a while, but finally the fight went out of him. She tied the final knot. He was trussed like a turkey now, and she knew she was going to catch all kinds of S & M jokes from the guys at work. Allison glanced up at the man now leaning against the checkout counter. His palms rested casually on the Formica, and the Glock had disappeared back beneath his suit jacket. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. He lifted a brow at her. “Not bad, Officer.” Okay, he was definitely a cop. DEA? Immigration? FBI? And suddenly it hit her. She knew exactly who he was and why he was here. The corner of his mouth curved up, and she felt a surge of annoyance. “You have a permit to carry a concealed handgun?” she asked, although she knew the answer. He sighed and reached into his jacket. He pulled out a leather folio and flipped it open. “Special Agent Mark Wolfe, FBI.” Copyright © 2012 Laura Griffin