An Elderly Lady Is Up to No Good - Couverture rigide

Tursten, Helene

Couverture rigide

ISBN 10 : 1641290110 ISBN 13 : 9781641290111

Editeur : Soho Crime, 2018

A propos du livre

Extrait

An excerpt from the short story “An Elderly Lady Has Accommodation Problems”
 
The shrill sound of the doorbell sliced through the silence. Maud sat motionless in her armchair, making no attempt to get up. She knew the bell would soon ring again. And again. And again. This had been going on for weeks.
      The reason behind the whole thing was her living arrangements, which were rather unusual.
      The apartment in which Maud lived was the only thing her family had managed to hold on to after her father’s sudden death from a heart attack. Until then he had kept up appearances, but when he died the family lawyer quickly discovered there was virtually no money left. The only thing of value was the large apartment building in the Vasastan district of Gothenburg. When it was sold, the lawyer managed to work out an agreement with the new owner.
      To put it briefly, a clause was inserted in the contract stating that the widow and her two daughters should be allowed to remain in their apartment without paying any rent; they simply had to cover the cost of electricity, water, and heating. In return, the buyer was given the opportunity to purchase the building at a very reasonable price. In addition, the clause stated that “for as long as any member of the family wishes to reside in the apartment, no rent will be payable.” A few lines further down it was made clear that the term “member of the family” referred only to the widow and her two daughters. Seventy years had passed since the contract had been drawn up, and at the time no one could have envisaged that one of the daughters would still be living there.
      Of course there had been a dispute over the interpretation of the original contract when the building was taken over by a housing association many years later, but after taking the matter to court, Maud won the day, and still lived rent-free. The members of the housing association board ground their teeth in frustration, but there was nothing they could do, though they did win a small victory when it was established that Maud had to pay a small monthly sum toward the general maintenance of the apartment building.
      It had now been about forty years since Maud’s sister died, leaving her with no living relatives. Maud lived alone, and she went on vacation alone. That was the way she wanted it. Freedom, no idle chatter, and no problems. Idle chatter and problems were the worst things she could think of, and now she was faced with one of the biggest problems she had ever encountered. And she just couldn’t see a way out.
 
 
Maud realized she had only herself to blame. She had walked straight into the trap with her eyes wide open. Even though a little voice inside her head had tried to warn her, she could never have imagined how badly things would turn out! It had all begun so innocently.
      During the spring, a genuine celebrity had moved into the building—a woman who was about forty years old, by the name of Jasmin Schimmerhof. She was famous mainly because her parents were famous. As the only child of two of Sweden’s best-known personalities, she experienced the trauma of growing up with parents who were totally preoccupied with their respective careers. Neither of them had much time to spare for their daughter, if any. A series of nannies and boarding schools were responsible for Jasmin’s upbringing. Her father was a successful financier, and her mother had been one of the country’s most internationally renowned opera singers. She toured the great opera houses of the world and was rarely at home with her husband and daughter. Jasmin’s mother had died in a car accident just outside New York a few years earlier. Nobody knew how it had happened because she had been alone when she crashed into a concrete column supporting an overpass. The newspapers showed pictures of the grieving widower, but there was no sign of Jasmin. After a period of intense undercover work by tabloid journalists, it emerged that she had been admitted to a private rehab clinic; she had been abusing both legal and illegal drugs, as well as drinking heavily. Her condition was so unstable that she wasn’t even able to attend her mother’s funeral. The trigger for the abuse was rumored to be her divorce from husband number two six months earlier. Both her first and second marriages had been childless. The press got plenty of headlines out of the tragedy, reveling in the misery of such a powerful family. Media interest flared up again when Ian Schimmerhof, Jasmin’s father, got married again six months later—to a woman forty years his junior. From the paparazzi shots taken at the couple’s wedding in Switzerland, where they were now living, it was very clear that the new wife was heavily pregnant. A month or so later, Jasmin gained a half-sibling forty years younger than her. The headline writers had a field day, speculating on whether Maria Schimmerhof’s car crash really had been an accident—or suicide.
      Over the next two years, no one had heard much about Jasmin Schimmerhof. It was said she was writing her autobiography, and when the book was published, it became an instant bestseller; everyone wanted to know what life had really been like behind the stylish façade of the enormous villa in Örgryte. A number of reviews may have hinted that the use of language was poor, the descriptions of the characters somewhat flat, and the narrative style rather clumsy, but people didn’t care. There were a few particularly juicy sections where Jasmin tore into her parents, especially her father. It was clear from the book that he had lavished money on his daughter but had given her neither his time nor his love. She wrote candidly about her father’s many affairs and how her mother had hit back with her own indiscretions. The book sold like hotcakes.
      The following year, Jasmin bought an apartment in Vasastan, in the same building where Maud lived. It was the only apartment on the ground floor. It had a special entrance at the foot of the elaborate marble staircase in the lobby, and its windows looked out onto both the street and the backyard. With the permission of the housing association board, the previous owner had built a small glassed-in terrace at the back. He owned an IT company and had renovated the run-down apartment to the highest standards, according to what Maud had heard. When he married and the couple was expecting their first child, he sold the place to Jasmin Schimmerhof and moved to a delightful house by the sea. Among other reasons, Jasmin wanted the apartment because it was fairly large—around 450 square feet. After the success of her autobiography, she had decided to embark on a new career. She was going to be an artist. Several walls were knocked down in order to make room for a substantial studio. Jasmin wanted to create large installations and needed space.
      She had spent the entire spring working on her creations. She wrote in her blog, Me Jasmin:
I despise sovereignty and the patriarchy. I have grown up under that kind of oppression, and I know how terrible it is. I want to give the finger to all oppressors and tell them to go to hell! In October, I will be putting on an exhibition at the Hell Gallery. Come along and see my new pieces! At the moment I am working on Phallus, Hanging. It’s going to be a kick in the balls for all those bastard men!
      Maud had learned all this over the past few weeks by looking up newspaper articles online; she also found Jasmin’s blog extremely informative, and it contained high-res pictures of various works. The enormous pieces of art had thickly painted layers of color, into which Jasmin had pressed photographs, scraps of fabric, sheet music, tampons (Maud couldn’t quite see whether or not they were used), fragments of bone, and all kinds of unidentifiable trash. And trash was precisely the right word for Jasmin’s art, in Maud’s opinion. The pictures were titled No Title I, No Title II, No Title III, and so on.
      Her so-called sculptures all had the same construction. Each one had a concrete base into which Jasmin had stuck various objects before the concrete had set. There were pieces featuring old exhaust systems pointing up at the ceiling, baseball bats, broken ice hockey sticks, golf clubs, cone-shaped items with Missile or Atomic bomb written on the side, and—last but not least—enormous black rubber dildos. Needless to say, these masterpieces were titled Phallus I, Phallus II, Phallus III, presumably ad infinitum.
      Makes life easier, I suppose, Maud thought.
      Every morning Maud spent an hour or so surfing the Internet on her laptop, checking out interesting people and events. She hadn’t bothered researching Jasmin’s life when her flamboyant neighbor moved in; at the time, Maud had been fully occupied with planning her first visit to a spa. After a very successful stay she had gone on vacation to Sardinia, where she had spent three glorious months before returning to Gothenburg.
      And that was when it began.

Revue de presse

An ABA IndieNext Selection for November 2018 
A Loan Stars Top 10 Pick November 2018

Praise for An Elderly Lady Is Up to No Good

“[A] deliciously noir short story collection . . . Tursten takes readers deep inside Maud’s head as she plots the demise of anyone who crosses her . . . Here’s hoping Tursten brings back the flinty homicidal octogenarian for more adventures.”
—Tina Jordan, The New York Times

“Witty . . . All pay the ultimate price for outraging this dangerous octogenarian. Will the police ever realize that sweet, frail, confused old Maud is in fact sharp as a tack and just as ruthless?”
—The Wall Street Journal

"Eighty-eight-year-old Maud, a Swedish cult favorite, freely dispatches greedy neighbors, selfish lovers, and potential thieves in four linked stories that push elderly empowerment to grimly funny heights in this Swedish cult favorite."
—The Boston Globe

“This elderly lady stops at nothing in her desire for a peaceful existence. I ought to feel guilty for enjoying her crimes, but I don't. The stories are written with such persuasive logic and delicious irony that I want the killing to continue indefinitely.”
—Peter Lovesey, Mystery Writers of America Grand Master

“Darkly engaging . . . The murders Maud pulls off are meticulously plotted and executed, and one of the pleasures of the stories lies in watching Maud in action.”
—The Toronto Star

“The juxtaposition of the way Maud presents in the world, as elderly, somewhat frail, and what she is capable of doing when she is thwarted makes for a really intriguing read that is often laugh out loud funny.”
—Lily Bartel, WAMC's The Roundtable 

“A petite, deliciously dry set of short stories . . . grab this one as a stocking-stuffer for the mystery lover on your list.”
—The News & Observer 

“Deliciously dark . . . Imagine a ticked-off Miss Marple with the conscience of Patricia Highsmith's Ripley and the cold-blooded pragmatism of Jack Reacher.”
—Mystery Scene Magazine

“Relying on the invisibility of age, using her walkers as a weapon, and seeming dementia as a defense, Maud systematically eliminates all annoyances . . . delightful.”
—Deadly Pleasures

“Delightfully grim and howlingly funny . . . Maud’s no apple-cheeked little Granny.”
—Quad City Times

“A series of darkly comic stories.”
—Petoskey News-Review

“For a twist on the genre, read this delightful anthology of five short stories revolving around an octogenarian protagonist named Maud. The plots will leave you enthralled and keep you entertained, and the translation from the Swedish original reads flawlessly . . . Enjoy the advantages of aging from a comfortable distance, knowing the blood is fake and the victims are figments of Tursten’s lively imagination.”
—The Beacon

“Helene Tursten’s writing is a pleasure to read. Despite the dark nature of the stories, the book is full of humor, and highlights the way that many elderly people are ignored by society as being senile or incapable, something Maud fully uses to her advantage.”
—The Times-News 

“Tursten is best known for the hard-boiled Detective Inspector Irene Huss series of novels. However, the comic twists and turns she delivers in this compact collection are equally engrossing. Unassuming, murderous Maud—with her devious, pseudo-innocent charm—makes these concise stories wickedly funny and addictively readable.”
—Shelf Awareness

“Maud is the petty, take-no-prisoners grandmother we all wish we had.”
—K99 Radio

“A succinct treatise on how to get away with murder. This is a terrific little dollop of crime. Just beware of the little old lady who lives upstairs.”
—Washington Independent Review of Books 

“The perfect size for stowing in your handbag with your hard candies and spare garrote wire.”
—Literary Hub

“If you’re into crime stories, dark humor, and want it centered around an octogenarian, run to this collection.”
—Book Riot

“Dark, irreverent, and hilariously funny.”
—Booklist, Starred Review 

“Exceptional . . . Readers will be amused by how sharp-as-a-tack Maud plays the forgetful, fuzzy-brained old lady to achieve her ends.”
—Publishers Weekly, Starred Review 

“A juicy dose of senior justice. The book is pure fun.”
—Kirkus Reviews

 “A wonderful discovery . . . Who knew the grim Swedish crime school included a writer this merry . . . and merciless?”
—The Shawangunk Journal 

“A satirical warning against the perils of ageism.”
—Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine

“Morbid, mysterious, and outrageously funny...this collection is a wonderful example of the more uproarious side of Scandinavian Noir, one that doesn’t often reach our shores and should be savored when it does.”
—CrimeReads

“A masterclass in concise and sharp characterization.”
—Crime Review

“A light, fun read that proves something I've always known: never underestimate the elderly.”
—Kittling Books

“Wildly entertaining.”
—Reading Glasses Podcast

“Cleverly plotted . . . 88-year-old Maude is a combination of Charles Bronson’s character in the movie Death Wish, Mrs. Wilberforce in the movie, The Ladykillers, and a small touch of John le Carré's low-key George Smiley. Tursten has created the perfect criminal, a senior citizen who has the cunning and vindictiveness of Bronson's character, the haplessness and sense of morality of Mrs. Wilberforce, and the deceptive appearance of George Smiley.”
—Los Angeles Public Library Reads

“Dark, funny, and oh so satisfying.”
—Three Percent (University of Rochester)

“Top of the line . . . [Maud] has a take-no-prisoners penchant for survival and can go from zero to 90 whether practicing self-defense or administering rough justice. She does both and more in this collection of finely written and memorable stories.”
—BookReporter 

“The elderly female antihero we never knew we needed . . . Suspenseful, funny, and certainly unique, this story is one you won’t want to miss this holiday season.”
—BookTrib

“These wicked, funny tales . . . could be the product of an illicit union between Arsenic and Old Lace and The Talented Mr. Ripley.”
—Reviewing the Evidence

“Wickedly fun . . . if you’ve had your fill of gooey, saccharine sweet holiday books or movies, then this collection of vignettes featuring Maud, an eighty-eight year old serial killer, will cure your holiday sugar rush.”
—The Book Review

“A completely different type of murderer than the regular mystery reader is used to.”
—Pop Goes Fiction

“Maud is just too good when she is up to no good . . . [her] 'adventures' make for grisly fun, and a quick read if you’re in the mood to dip into a bit of Scandinavian noir.” 
—Reading Reality 

“A delicious acid-drop of a book.”
—University Book Store (Seattle, WA)

“Full of fun (and a little bit of gore), this small book will leave you laughing.”
-Odyssey Bookshop, (South Hadley, MA) 

“Never underestimate 88-year-old ladies—nearly deaf, living alone, and using wheeled walkers—when it comes to murder . . . You won’t want to miss Tursten’s clever stories.”
—Karen Briggs, The Booknook (East Tawas, MI)

“Helene Tursten, the author of many popular Scandinavian crime thrillers, has shifted gears to offer up this lively and darkly funny tale . . . You will never take seniors for granted again!”
—Eagle Harbor Book Company (Bainbridge Island, WA)

“I thoroughly enjoyed all the wicked things this elderly lady got up to in this fun little read from the author of the Inspector Irene Huss Investigation series. A great gift for a mystery reader.”
—Queen Anne Book Company (Seattle, WA)

Praise for Helene Tursten

“As good as Louise Welsh's similarly creepy tour of Glasgow.”
—Gillian Flynn, Entertainment Weekly

“These days Scandinavian crime writers are thick on the ground. It's nice to see that the women can be just as bloodthirsty as the men.”
—The New York Times Book Review

“[Tursten] imbues this novel with a cold chill of dread that can't be attributed only to the subfreezing temperatures of Göteborg in winter.”
—Chicago Sun Times

“Truly satisfying.”
—Philadelphia Inquirer

“An engaging mystery with a very likable heroine. With a writing style reminiscent of Camilla Läckberg or Henning Mankell, Helene Tursten offers a detective with a nuanced and compelling personal life, as well as a dark and intriguing mystery.”
—Shelf Awareness

À propos de cette édition

• Éditeur: Soho Crime
• Date d'édition: 2018
• ISBN 10: 1641290110
• ISBN 13: 9781641290111
• Reliure: Relié
• Nombre de pages: 184