Piece of My Heart (Inspector Banks Novels)
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1969 . . . In an era of free love and rebellion, a dead body is discovered among the detritus of a recently concluded rock festival—a beautiful young woman stabbed so savagely through the chest that a piece of her heart was sliced off.
Now . . . A freelance journalist, a stranger to the region, is savagely bludgeoned to death in a shocking act of violence with no apparent motive.
Two murders separated by four decades are investigated by two very different but equally haunted investigators—one, a casualty of war unable to come to terms with a confusing new world; the other, a rogue policeman harboring ghosts of his own. But the truth behind a grisly present-day slaying may somehow be hidden in the amplified, drug-induced fog of a notorious past, propelling Detective Chief Inspector Alan Banks into the darkest shadows of the peace, love, and rock 'n' roll generation.
know; he was into all that occult stuff—magic, tarot, astrology, Aleister Crowley, Carlos Castaneda—but lots of them were, back then.” “What about Chris Adams?” “Seemed a nice enough bloke both occasions I met him. A bit straighter than the rest, maybe, but still one of the ‘beautiful people,’ if you catch my drift.” “Did they all take drugs?” “They all smoked a lot of dope and did acid. Robin Merchant obviously got into mandies in a big way, and later both Reg Cooper and Terry Watson had
Peterborough, and to the Rolling Stones concert in memory of Brian Jones, at which Mick Jagger freed all the caged butterflies that hadn’t already died from the heat. He also remembered Dylan at the Isle of Wight, coming on late and singing “She Belongs to Me” and “To Ramona,” two of Banks’s favorites. But in Peterborough, he had been fairly isolated from the trendy fashions, causes and ideologies of the times, embarrassingly ignorant of what was really happening out there. For all the hyped-up
for Calvin Soames. He can’t have gone far. Get some help from uniformed branch in Eastvale if you need it.” “Yes, sir.” Banks turned to Annie. “Come on,” he said. “There’s nothing more we can do here. Let’s go pay a visit to Eastvale General.” Annie didn’t need asking twice. When they got back into the car she thumped the steering wheel with both fists and strained to hold back her tears of anger. Her head was still throbbing from the previous night’s excess. She felt Banks’s hand rest on her
smile. “Performed musical duets? We sang together sometimes, if that’s what you mean, just in folk clubs and such.” “Can I have a look at Linda’s flat?” Tania bit her lip. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t. I mean…” “You can come with me, keep an eye on me. It’ll have to be done eventually. Officially.” Finally, Tania said, “Okay. I’ve got a key. Come on.” She led him across the hall. Linda’s room was the same shape as Tania’s, but like a mirror image. It was more luxuriously furnished, with a
Hayes bristled but said nothing. “I hope you realize the extent of the trouble you’re in,” Chadwick went on. “Look, I did what anybody would do. You’ve got to be crazy these days to give the fuzz an inch, especially if you’re a bit different.” “In your case, it didn’t work, did it? I’ve found out anyway. All we need now is one person—just one person—who saw you leaving the backstage area for the woods while Led Zeppelin were playing. Are you so sure that no one saw you? After all, we’ve