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One grisly murder, one determined detective, and the suspect she dreads confronting ... her father.
As the author of a mystery-thriller with a tough but damaged female protagonist, I thought this story about a detective with a troubled past was familiar territory and was confident I would see the twists coming a hundred pages out. Um, not the case. Sweet Little Lies surprised me over and over again.
While investigating a seemingly routine murder case in London, Detective Constable Cat Kinsella i...
Twenty-six-year-old Cat Kinsella overcame a troubled childhood to become a Detective Constable with the Metropolitan Police Force, but she’s never been able to banish her ghosts. When she’s called to the scene of a murder in Islington, not far from the pub her estranged father still runs, she discovers that Alice Lapaine, a young housewife who didn’t get out much, has been found strangled.
Get an early look from the first pages of Caz Frear's Sweet Little Lies.Read a sample →
I recall the day we heard about Maryanne with high-definition clarity, although I know nothing about what happened to her, nor the manner in which she left.
I don’t offer this by way of an alibi. Neither is it a well-practiced defense. After all, it’s not as if I’ve ever had to explain myself—on the scale of likely suspects I was always nestled firmly alongside Gran, hovering somewhere between “laughable” and “nigh-on impossible”—and yet in order to understand the demons that hound me, and indeed in the spirit of the police oath I claim to hold so dear, I feel it’s necessary to make clear that I know nothing about what happened to Maryanne Doyle, the girl who went to Riley’s for hairspray and never came back.
I have my suspicions, of course.
I speculate plenty, especially after white wine.
But when it comes right down to it, I actually know nothing.
The same cannot be said of my father.