By Donna Leon

aka Death in excessive Water

As Venice braces for a wintry weather tempest, Commissario Guido Brunetti, Donna Leon's intrepid Italian sleuth, unearths out that an outdated buddy has been savagely crushed on the palazzo domestic of reigning diva Flavia Petrelli. Then, because the flood waters upward thrust, a corpse is discovered—and Brunetti needs to go through the chaotic urban to resolve his deadliest case but. Sinister and unique, Acqua Alta is one other chilling addition to Donna Leon's best-selling sequence.

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Extra info for Acqua Alta (Commissario Brunetti, Book 5)

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The Patrol Group officers, who until very recently had been threatening to 47 punch her lights out, looked at their feet and shuffled about awkwardly. Then Mr Travers joined his wife in an outpouring of uncontainable grief. All their fight was gone and they were now like pliable putty in Harrison's hands. 'Come on,' he said gently. 'Let's get you down to the nick and get it over with. At least on the plus side you don't have to worry about Adolf being destroyed because a court considers him dangerous and a menace to the community.

First stop had been their flat where the front door had been taken off its hinges without much ceremony. Needless to say, the flat was empty but did reveal plenty of evidence confirming their involvement in the ill-fated raid on the gun shop, but nothing as to their current whereabouts. Next stop was the home address of Travers' parents. Once their front door lay in several pieces in the hallway, Harrison had run upstairs while the Patrol Group boys secured and searched downstairs. He burst into a bedroom where he encountered an irate Mr and Mrs Travers, themselves career criminals with records to be proud of in Handstead.

But they're prostitutes, Rod. ' 'Did you shag any of them? ' 'No,' insisted Aldrin, sounding a little aggrieved but not wishing to make a scene. ' 'Fucking hope so, son, I fucking hope so for your sake. I'll ask when I get there, you know. Got the number for me? Good. Go on, you can fuck off now, I'm busy. Of course, none of this would be necessary if my bitch of a wife put out occasionally,' he lied. After Aldrin had slithered out of his office and back under his stone, Allan busied himself preparing for a visit to the brothel which he was quite convinced would cure his limp dick.

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