“It’s very small,” the Englishwoman said, sounding
Mac Rudolph laughed, put his arm around the woman’s
slender neck, and allowed his hand to fall onto her breast.
She wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Oil on a wooden panel,” he said. “Thirty inches by
twenty-one, or seventy-seven centimeters by fifty-three. It
was meant to hang in the dining room in the home of the
Florentine merchant Francesco del Giocondo. But da Vinci
never got it finished.”
He felt her nipple stiffen under the fabric of the blouse.
She didn’t move his hand away.
Sylvia Rudolph slid up on the other side of her, her hand
easing its way under the woman’s arm.
“Mona Lisa wasn’t her name,” Sylvia said. “Just Lisa.
Mona is an Italian diminutive that can be taken to mean
‘lady’ or ‘her grace.’ ”
The woman’s husband was standing behind Sylvia, his
body pushed up against hers in the crowd. Very cozy.
“Anyone thirsty?” he asked.
Sylvia and Mac exchanged a quick glance and a grin.
They were on the first floor of the Denon wing of the
Louvre, in the Salle des États. Hanging on the wall in front
of them, behind nonreflective glass, was the most famous
portrait in the world, and the guy was thinking about beer?
“You’re right,” Mac said, his hand gently gliding down
the Englishwoman’s back. “It is small. Francesco del Giocondo’s
dining room table can’t have been very large.”
He smiled over at the woman’s husband.
“And you’re right, too. It’s time to drink some wine!”
They found their way out of the museum, down the modern
staircase toward the Porte des Lions, and stepped out
into the middle of a Parisian spring evening.
Sylvia inhaled deeply, breathing in the intoxicating mix
of exhaust fumes, river water, and freshly opened leaves, and
laughed out loud.
“Oh,” she said, hugging the Englishwoman, “I’m so glad
we met you. Honeymoons are all very well and good, but
you have to see a bit of the world, too, don’t you? Have you
had time to see Notre-Dame yet?”
“We only got here this morning,” her husband said.
“We’ve hardly had time to eat.”
“Well, we must do something about that at once,” Mac said.
“We know a little place down by the Seine. It’s wonderful,
you’ll love it.”
“Notre-Dame is fantastic,” Sylvia said. “One of the first
Gothic cathedrals in the world, strongly influenced by naturalism.
You’re going to love the South Rose Window.”
She kissed the woman on the cheek, lingering for a
They crossed the river on the Pont d’Arcole, passed the
cathedral, and arrived at the Quai de Montebello just as
someone started playing a melancholy tune on an
“Order whatever you like,” Mac said, holding the door
of the bistro open. “It’s on us. We’re celebrating your
Excerpt from THE POSTCARD KILLERS granted with permission by Little,Brown and Company, New York, NY. Copyright © 2010 by James Patterson.
“NYPD detective Jacob Kanon is a man obsessed,” thinks Swedish journalist Dessie Larsson when he pays her a visit regarding a postcard mailed to her office. He insists it’s an announcement of a murder soon to be committed. Kanon should know. His daughter and her boyfriend were slaughtered in Rome. And there were others—in Paris, Frankfurt, Copenhagen—their throats similarly slashed, their naked bodies arranged in grisly mimicry of paintings depicted on the ominous cards heralding impending death.
The Postcard Killers is a gut-wrenching, heartstopping, action-packed thrill ride with stunning twists, the kind you don’t see coming until suddenly, they hit you from behind. The first arrives when we meet Sylvia and Malcolm Rudolph. Young, gorgeous and sexy, the couple has a seductive charm that proves irresistible to their victims. But what motivates these stone-cold killers? Patterson keeps the tension taut as we seesaw back and forth between the hunters, Kanon and Dessie—who find little to connect the murders other than the postcards—and the hunted. When the answer comes, it’s fast and furious, which is just what we’ve come to expect from Patterson, “the man who can’t miss” (TIME).
Hardcover Book : 432 pages
Publisher: Hachette Book Group Usa ( August 16, 2010 )
Item #: 13-112206
Product Dimensions: 5.5 x 8.25 x 0.97inches
Product Weight: 15.0 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
I have been a long-time James Patterson fan. However, in the last couple of years & per his last 3-4 novels that I've read. This author has truly dissapointed me. It was like he'd just lost that unique ability to keep you on the edge throughout the story, until that climatic ending! I'm talking about "Kiss the Girls", "Along Came A Spider", "Roses are Red" & of course, the "Women's Murder Club" series". We're talking about MASTER suspense writing, here! So, even though I had pretty much given up on this author. I was hopeful about this book. Well, I must say this novel did 'start out' with the makings of his past, exceptional writing style that I have missed! The premise was intriguing & the (most of) characters well-developed. I really enjoyed how this story was playing out & getting downright anxious to find out how it was all going to end! There in lies the rub, the ending! Not wanting to give away anything, specifically how our villains are handled, in the end. It was so anti-climatic! You're left thinking.. that's all.. seriously?!! So dissapointed, after reading a really great book, for the most part. We needed to know what led them to such brutality & also the origin of the deviate relationship between the two killers, how did that originate? We're left with way too many 'basic' unanswered questions! HOW SAD, this really started out to be a solid five star suspense novel, it was just.. almost there.
Another page turner! I have never been disappointed by a Patterson novel.This one moves at a ligtning pace. I can't wait untill the next one.
In one word....fantastic. my girlfriend and I read this together and neither one of us ever wanted to put it down. Wondering what would happen next and how it would play out was riveting.
I really found this book to be , as they said, " a gut-wrenching, heartstopping, action-packed thrill ride with stunning twists." James Patterson has said in interviews that he is the idea man who comes up with ideas and a bare bones skeleton for his books then turns them over to his co-writers to flesh them out and write the stories. That is why every book is so unique and different, based on who the co-writer is. Liza Marklund is a best-selling Scandinavian author who has put her stamp on!
Reviewer: Terri M
This was one of the worst books I ever read. I have read all af J.P.'s stuff and I couldn't get over how bad it was. Normally I would pre-order anything by J.P. but not any more. I'll wait till you all review them.