The Lions of Fifth Avenue by Fiona Davis
English | 2020 | Mystery/Thriller | ePUB | 2.5 MB
When Nancy Hennessy is murdered, she leaves behind two best friends, an adoring husband and daughter, and a secret lover whose identity she took to the grave. Nancy was gorgeous, wealthy, and cherished by those who knew her—from the outside, her life was perfect. But as the investigation into her death flounders and her friends Eleanor and Mary wrestle with their grief, dark details surface that reveal how little they knew their friend, each other, and maybe even themselves.
A gripping, immersive novel about impossible expectations and secrets that fester and become lethal, Imperfect Women unfolds through the perspectives of three fascinating women. Their enduring, complex friendship is the knot the reader must untangle to answer the question Who killed Nancy?
Imperfect Women explores guilt and retribution, love and betrayal, and the compromises we make that alter our lives irrevocably. With the wickedly sharp insights and finely tuned suspense that has drawn comparisons to Patricia Highsmith and Paula Hawkins, Araminta Hall returns with another page-turning, thought-provoking tour de force.
Mary nearly didn’t answer her phone, because she’d just walked into Howard’s study and she really had to find the insurance documents. But when she pulled the phone out of her back pocket, she saw it was Eleanor, and she’d been trying to get hold of her for a couple of days because she’d sounded strange the last time they spoke, and it wasn’t like Ellie not to return phone calls.
“Hello, stranger,” she said, walking to the window, where she looked out over the rows of small gardens below, everyone’s allotted rectangle of green. It was a lovely day, with a bright sun that had brought people outside. Her neighbors were having lunch in their garden, laughing at the somersaults their little girl was turning.
At first Mary couldn’t work out what she was hearing, but then she realized that Eleanor was crying in that totally abandoned way her children had done when they were little. “Ellie!” she shouted into the phone. “Ellie, what’s happened?”
“I’ve finished things with Robert—” she gasped. “And I feel awful. Like I don’t know what to do.”
“Where are you?” Mary felt a rising fear building. Eleanor sounded so out of control.
“Back from Sussex.”
“I went to see Nancy.”
Mary put her hand to her forehead. She couldn’t understand what was happening. “Ellie, calm down, what are you talking about?”
She heard Eleanor take a breath, and when she next spoke, her voice didn’t have the same edge of hysteria, although she was still crying.
“I’ve really fucked up. I’ve felt mad this past week. I went to see Davide Boyette.”
“You what? As in the man who might have killed Nancy? What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know. And then I had to go to Irena’s funeral yesterday. It’s all been too much.”
“Oh, Ellie, sweetheart.”
“I’ve started to wonder if Robert could have been involved in Nancy’s death. Actually, I don’t know what to think.”
“Robert?” Mary felt like she was having one of those conversations you have with toddlers in which nothing makes sense and everything is possible.