Philippe Georget Knihy

Inspector Sebag is a policeman in the South of France with an unparalleled sixth sense, who excels at slipping into the skin of killers and hunting them down. However, when a retired French Algerian cop is discovered in his apartment with the symbol OAS left near his body and few indications who kiled him or why, Sebag's skills are put to the test. Days later, when a controversial monument is destroyed and another French Algerian is shot down, Sebag begins to put the pieces together. Bringing to light the horrors, hopes, and treasons committed during the war in Algeria fifteen years ago, in this sequel to Georget's Summertime, All the Cats Are Bored, Lieutenant Gilles Sebag discovers more than just a killer, but an entire secret history that not everyone wants revealed.

An Inspector Sebag Mystery Crime, suspense, and marital woes combine in this atmospheric procedural set in the seemingly quiet Mediterranean town of Perpignan. This winter is going to be a rough one for Inspector Gilles Sebag, for he has discovered a terrible truth: Claire has been cheating on him. Bouncing between depression, whisky, and insomnia, he buries himself in work in an attempt to forget. But his investigations lead him inexorably to bigger tragedies--a woman murdered in a hotel, a depressed man who throws himself from the roof of his building, another who threatens to blow up the neighborhood--all of them involving betrayals of some sort. Perpignan seems to be suffering from a veritable epidemic of crimes of passion. Adultery is everywhere And each betrayal leads to another dramatic crime. Sebag has an uncanny ability to slip into the skin of his suspects and solve apparently unsolvable crimes. Though professionally charmed, he is unlucky in love. He is a perfect protagonist for the town of Perpignan, sleepy and leisurely on the surface, seething with vice and violence underneath.

It’s the middle of a long hot summer on the French Mediterranean shore and the town is teeming with tourists. Sebag and Molina, two tired cops who are being slowly devoured by dull routine and family worries, deal with the day’s misdemeanors and petty complaints at the Perpignan police headquarters. But then a young Dutch woman is found murdered on a beach at Argelès, and another disappears without a trace in the alleys of the city. Is it a serial killer obsessed with Dutch women? Maybe. The media senses fresh meat and moves in for the feeding frenzy. Out of the blue, Inspector Gilles Sebag finds himself thrust into the middle of a diabolical game. In order to focus on the matter at hand, he will have to put aside his cares, forget his suspicions about his wife’s unfaithfulness, ignore his heart murmur, and get over his existential angst. But there is more to this case than anyone suspects.

Karfreitag in Perpignan. Siebenhundert »Büßer« defilieren wie jedes Jahr seit dem 15. Jahrhundert in ihren traditionellen Gewändern durch die Gassen. Plötzlich bricht Panik aus. Als wieder Ruhe einkehrt, liegt einer der Gläubigen blutüberströmt am Boden. Er wurde offenbar erdolcht. Gleichzeitig wurde ein Juweliergeschäft ausgeraubt. Hängen die beiden Fälle zusammen? Lieutenant Sebag, der eigentlich mit seinem pubertierenden Sohn kämpft, ermittelt in den mediterranen Gassen der Stadt und stößt dabei auf die verschwiegene Seite einer französischen Legende. 

Dans le village de Wadi Musa, près du célèbre site de Pétra, un vieil archéologue français est arrêté, accusé de pédophilie par la police jordanienne.Venu réaliser un documentaire sur son chantier de fouilles, Lionel Terras, journaliste parisien, irascible et désabusé, va avec Mélanie, l'adjointe du professeur, tenter de découvrir qui cherche à éliminer le vieil homme.Son enquête va le conduire dans le désert du Wadi Rum, sur la piste de l'âme des Bédouins et sur les traces du mythique Lawrence d'Arabie, à la poursuite de l'incroyable secret de Sharat-Aqem...Lionel trouvera-t-il sur la Désert Highway, les réponses à son propre chaos ? Car comme dit le proverbe arabe : «Si loin que portent nos pas, ils nous ramènent toujours à nous-mêmes.»