The Indian Bride

by Fossum, Karin

• ISBN13: 9780156033367
• ISBN10: 0156033364
• eBook ISBN(s): 9780547540795
• Edition: Reprint
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2008-06-01
• Publisher: Mariner Books
• More Book Details
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Summary

When long-time bachelor Gunder Jomann goes to India for two weeks and comes home married, the town of Elvestad is stunned. Then, on the day the Indian bride is supposed to arrive, the battered body of a woman is found on the outskirts of town. The "good people of Elvestad" can't believe that anyone among them could be capable of such a brutal murder. But in his quiet way, Inspector Konrad Sejer understands that no one is completely innocentnot the cafe owner who knows too much, the girl who wants the attention that comes with being a witness, or the bodybuilder with no outlet for his terrible strength. InThe Indian Bride, one of Europe's most successful crime writers has crafted another chilling page-turner.

Author Biography

KARIN FOSSUM is the author of many novels and two collections of short stories. Her crime novels featuring Inspector Sejer have been translated into sixteen languages, with When the Devil Holds the Candle winning the Gumshoe Award. She lives in a small town in southeastern Norway.

Excerpts

Chapter 1 The silence is shattered by the barking of a dog. The mother looks up from the sink and stares out of the window. The barking comes from deep in the dogs throat. All of its black, muscular body quivers with excitement. Then she sees her son. He gets out of the red Golf and lets a blue bag fall to the ground. He glances toward the window, registering the faint outline of his mother. He goes to the dog and releases it from its chain. The animal throws itself at him. They roll on the ground, sending the dirt flying. The dog growls and her son shouts affectionate curses in its ears. Sometimes he yells at the top of his lungs and smacks the Rottweiler hard across its snout. At last it stays down. Slowly he gets to his feet. Brushes the dust and dirt from his pants. Glances once more at the window. The dog gets up hesitantly and cowers in front of him, its head down, until he allows it to come and lick the corners of his mouth, submissively. Then he walks to the house and comes into the kitchen. Good God, look at the state of you! The blue T-shirt is bloodstained. His hands are covered in cuts. The dog has scratched his face, too. Never seen anything like it, she says and sniffs angrily. Leave the bag. Im doing a load of laundry later. He folds his scratched arms across his chest. They are powerful, like the rest of him. Close to two hundred pounds and not a hint of fat. The muscles have just been used and they are warm. Calm down, he tells her. Ill do it. She cant believe her ears. Him, wash his own clothes? Where have you been? she says. Surely you dont work out from six to eleven? Her son mumbles something. He has his back to her. With Ulla. We were babysitting. She looks at the broad back. His hair is very blond and stands upright like a brush. Thin stripes have been dyed scarlet. Its as if he were on fire. He disappears down the basement stairs. She hears the old washing machine start up. She lets the water out of the sink and stares into the yard. The dog has lain down with its head on its paws. The last remnant of light is disappearing. Her son is back, says hes going to take a shower. A shower at this hour? Youve just come from the gym? He doesnt reply. Later she hears him in the bathroom, sounding hollow in the tiled space. Hes singing. The door to the medicine cupboard slams. Hes probably looking for a bandage, silly boy. His mother smiles. All of this violence is only to be expected. He is a man, after all. Later, she would never forget this. The last moment when life was good. It began with Gunder Jomanns journey. Gunder went all the way to India to find himself a wife. When people asked, he did not say that that was why he had gone. He hardly admitted it to himself. It was a journey to see a bit of the world, he explained when his colleagues asked. What an outrageous extravagance! He never spent anything on himself. Hardly ever went out, never accepted invitations to Christmas parties, kept himself busy either wi

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Excerpted from The Indian Bride by Karin Fossum
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