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Overview
Liad Shoham, the #1 bestselling author in Israel, makes his American debut with Lineup—a superbly plotted, uncompromising crime thriller. A brutal rape in a quiet Tel Aviv neighborhood has the police baffled. There are no witnesses, suspects, or clues, until the victim’s father steps in and finds overwhelming evidence pointing to Ziv Nevo. Veteran detective Eli Nahum questions Nevo, but can’t get anything out of him. That’s because Nevo has a secret. He works for the mafia, and telling the truth about why he was near the crime scene could get him killed. Lineup focuses on these two men, detective and suspect, as they both end up betraying what they value most, fighting for their lives, and struggling make amends for their mistakes in this gritty, fast-paced, complex novel of suspense.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780062237453 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | HarperCollins |
| Publication date: | 10/21/2014 |
| Pages: | 320 |
| Sales rank: | 590,704 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.30(w) x 7.90(h) x 0.90(d) |
About the Author
Liad Shoham is Israel's leading crime writer and a practicing attorney with degrees from Jerusalem's Hebrew University and the London School of Economics. All his crime novels have been critically acclaimed bestsellers. He lives in Tel Aviv with his wife and two children.
Read an Excerpt
Lineup
By Liad Shoham
HarperCollins Publishers
Copyright © 2013 Liad ShohamAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-06-223744-6
Chapter 1
SARAH Glazer raised the binoculars to her eyes and followed the
movements of the young man and his dog walking down the street.
He'd moved in as the third housemate in the fourth-floor apart-
ment at 56 Louis Marshall Street a week ago, and every night since,
at 12:45, he went out to walk his dog. He made his way back and
forth along the block between De Haas and Brandeis until the dog
had done its business, and then picked up the poo with a plastic
bag. But yesterday she noticed that he didn't clean up after the
dog. She'd focused on the man's face, waiting to see if it registered
surprise at the absence of a bag, annoyance with himself for hav-
ing forgotten it, or at least a modicum of embarrassment, but his
expression remained blank. He continued on his way as if nothing
out of the ordinary had happened. He didn't seem to be bothered
by the fact that the dog poo was still lying there on the sidewalk.
Despite her conviction that such behavior was barbaric, a sign of
the moral decline of the country's younger generation, she had
decided not to do anything about it for the moment. Everyone
is entitled to one mistake. So now she was waiting anxiously to
see what he would do tonight. If he didn't clean up after the dog
again, she would no longer remain silent. Tomorrow, first thing in
the morning, she'd send a strongly worded complaint to the city,
anonymously, of course.
The dog stopped. She adjusted the binoculars. She'd bought
them on the Internet a month ago, paying more than ten thousand
shekels for what the company website guaranteed was “the latest
technology.” But as a woman who always kept an eye on the street,
2 LIAD S H O H A M
who made sure she was aware of everything going on in the neigh-
borhood, she couldn't resist. She told no one about her purchase as
she waited impatiently for the package to arrive. A few days later it
did. Inside was a shiny new pair of binoculars with the finest lenses
and a special button. When she pressed it she could see almost as
well at night as she could in broad daylight.
Her oldest grandson had come to visit two days ago and asked
if she used the computer he'd bought her for her birthday, if she re-
membered what he'd taught her about how to use the Internet. She
almost told him about the lovely present she had got herself with
all those impressive features. But she changed her mind at the last
minute. She knew tongues would start wagging in the family, and
she'd have to explain why, at the age of eighty-two, she had decided
to buy binoculars, of all things, and such expensive ones to boot.
She and Sefi, may he rest in peace, had always lived frugally, saving
their money “for the children.” Squandering it like this would un-
doubtedly raise an eyebrow or two among her children and give her
two daughters-in-law good reason to mutter behind her back. And
so she held her tongue. It was better they didn't know. She deserved
to pamper herself now and then. And at her age she had the right to
a few secrets.
The man from the fourth floor at 56 Louis Marshall Street bent
down and picked up the dog poo with a bag. Yesterday had appar-
ently been an isolated incident. But maybe not. Just to be on the safe
side, she'd continue to keep an eye on him. With things like this,
you had to keep your finger on the pulse.
She lowered the binoculars to her lap and yawned. She had to
admit to herself that she was a little disappointed he'd cleaned up
after the dog. In her head she'd already started phrasing the letter
she'd write to the city about the shamelessness of the younger gene-
ration, the lack of consideration and basic human decency in the
LIN E U P 3
world today. This never used to happen. In the old days, everybody
knew everybody. People would not have allowed themselves to be-
have that way. This was a neighborhood built for the workers of the
Tel Aviv harbor. They were all Socialists. The four-story-high row
houses, nicknamed “railroad cars,” were assigned by lottery. They
were all small and identical, but the tenants cared for them. They
invested money and effort in the neighborhood. It was always clean
and tidy, and on holidays, they would go down to plant flowers in
the garden with the kids. Today, all the new tenants were well off,
or the children of people with money. Sure, inside it's beautiful, but
outside? Ha! Nobody cared anymore, to say nothing of planting gar-
dens. That's why this guy didn't care about the mess his dog made.
She got up from the chair slowly. Lately, she found her head
would spin for a few minutes if she stood up too quickly. She looked
over at the second floor of 54 Louis Marshall Street. The apartment
was dark. The day before yesterday she'd seen the couple arguing,
and the man hadn't been home since. Every night the woman sat
crying at the kitchen table. Her heart went out to them, especially
that nice lady who always greeted her with a broad smile when they
passed each other in the street.
She dragged herself through the apartment to the bathroom. Dr.
Shaham had instructed her to take Nurofen four times a day for her
arthritis, and like a good soldier, she always followed doctor's orders.
That was why she'd been forcing herself to stay up until one o'clock
the last few days. She took the first pill at seven in the morning when
she got up, the second at one in the afternoon with her lunch, the
third at seven in the evening, an hour before the
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Lineup by Liad Shoham. Copyright © 2013 Liad Shoham. Excerpted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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