Resultado de "John Holt" em Todas as categorias

"Whittaker distribuyó los tragos y bebió el suyo.–En fin, al parecer tiene dificultades− continuó. –Y una muy grave. −¿Dificultades? −repitió Kendall Whittaker lanzó un suspiro. – Sí, ya sabe−respondió. –Problemas. Kendall asintió. −¡Oh, problemas! Ya entiendo.−exclamó. −¿Y de qué clase de problemas estamos hablando? Whittaker tomó otro sorbo. –Bueno me temo que es un caso de homicidio. −¿Homicidio? −repitió Mollie. Whittaker no hizo más que asentir con la cabeza. Otro homicidio, pensó Kendall. Justo lo que necesito. –Sólo deténgase allí por un momento y vuelva a empezar, ¿Puede? −le sugirió."

It was that door, that solitary door. The door was somehow connected to an event that had occurred one hundred years ago. Somehow it was a portal to another time and place. And that made it worrying, frightening even. Was it even possible for someone, anyone, to exist in two time periods at the same time?

De naam is Daniels, Jack Daniels - net als de whisky die je kent. Ik ben een privédetective. En ik kan het niet helpen mijn neus in andermans zaken te steken. Het is wat ik doe. Je went er aan. Het wordt bijna een manier van leven. Na een tijdje gaat het natuurlijk voor je, automatisch, zoals ademen of eten, hoewel niet zo plezierig. Het is een gewoonte die ik gewoon niet kan doorbreken. Ik kan het gewoon niet helpen.

Kendall podía ver la pantalla de televisión. Había una fotografía del gobernador Frank Reynolds. En la parte inferior de la pantalla, el teletipo anunciaba en grandes letras negras «Gobernador Reynolds asesinado».

Der Name ist Daniels, Jack Daniels - genau wie der Whisky, den Sie kennen. Ich bin Privatdetektiv. Und ich kann nicht anders, als meine Nase in die Angelegenheiten anderer Leute zu stecken. Es ist, was ich tue. Man gewöhnt sich daran. Es wird fast zu einer Lebensweise. Nach einer Weile wird es für Sie natürlich, automatisch, wie Atmen oder Essen, obwohl es nicht ganz so angenehm ist. Es ist eine Angewohnheit, die ich einfach nicht ablegen kann. Ich kann einfach nicht anders. Aber manchmal kann es Sie in Schwierigkeiten bringen....

Has notado que las cosas no son siempre como parecen? La vida siempre te lanza una pelota en curva cuando menos lo esperas. Sólo vemos lo que esperamos ver, y a veces podemos tener una gran sorpresa. Yo sí tuve una gran sorpresa, te lo aseguro y con creces. Una sorpresa que condujo a chantaje y muerte. Allí es cuando tuve....problemas en mente.

That old door had been standing there for many years. Just a solid timber door and a frame. Just a door...an ordinary door....

When two valuable oil paintings are missing, Kendall is asked to investigate on behalf of the insurance company. Reluctantly, he accepts the job. Then, a body is discovered, and then another. “So what do you think?” asked Mollie. “What do I think?” Kendall repeated. “Well with two people dead, I think someone has been practicing the art of murder.”

Tom Kendall había estado en la comisaría 32 del Departamento de Policía de Nueva York durante poco menos de diez años. Pero ahora quería un cambio. Ahora quería montar su propia Agencia de Detectives Privados. Tenía grandes ideas. No estaba interesado en cualquier caso antiguo. Oh no, él solo manejaría los grandes casos, los costosos. Él sería capaz de elegir, el los que él quería, donde había mucho en juego y también lo eran las recompensas. Sabía exactamente el tipo de caso que quería. Cualquier otra cosa no funcionaría, y simplemente sería rechazada de plano.

Jack Daniels, c'est mon nom. Vous savez, comme le whisky. Je suis détective privé. Et je ne peux m'empêcher de fourrer mon nez dans les affaires des autres. C'est mon métier. On s'y habitue. Ça fait partie de ma vie. Après quelques temps, ça devient tellement naturel, un reflex, comme respirer ou manger, cependant pas aussi agréable. Une habitude dont je ne peux pas me passer. Je n’y peux rien. Mais parfois, ça me fourre dans le pétrin.

El nombre es Daniels, Jack Daniels, como el whisky que conoces. Soy Detective Privado. Y no puedo evitar meter la nariz en los asuntos de otras personas. Es lo que hago. Te acostumbras. Se convierte casi en una forma de vida. Después de un tiempo te resulta natural, automático, como respirar o comer, aunque no tan placentero. Es un hábito que simplemente no puedo romper. Simplemente no puedo evitarlo. Pero a veces puede llevarte a problemas...

Across the bottom of the screen the ticker tape announced in large black letters 'Governor Reynolds Murdered'. Apparently his body had been discovered earlier that morning, lying in his garage. He had been shot twice. One shot to the upper chest, the other hitting his shoulder. 'Police believe that the weapon used was a 38 revolver,' the reporter said. Kendall froze. Anthony Shaw had also been killed by a 38 calibre bullet. Kendall was not quite sure of what it all meant. What connection was there between Anthony Shaw, and the State Governor, and the business mogul, Ian Duncan. And what about Senator Mackenzie? Where did he fit in? And who or what was Latimer?

The Marinski Affair began as a dull, mundane case involving a missing husband. Okay, so he was a rich missing husband, but he was nonetheless, still only a missing husband. The case soon developed into one involving robbery, kidnapping, blackmail, and murder. But was there really a kidnapping? All is not as it seems. Tom Kendall, private detective, had the task of solving the mystery. He was usually pretty good at solving puzzles, but this one was different, somehow. It wasn’t that he didn’t have any of the pieces. It was just that none of the pieces seemed to fit together.

Tom Kendall, a down-to-earth private detective, is asked to investigate the death of a young newspaper reporter. The evidence shows quite clearly that it was an accident: a simple, dreadful accident. That is the finding of the coroner and the local police. Furthermore, there were two witnesses. They saw the whole thing. But was it an accident, or was it something more sinister? Against a backdrop of a viral epidemic slowly spreading from Central America, a simple case soon places Kendall up against one of the largest drug companies in the country.

I'm not a gambling man. I mean, life's one big gamble, ain't it? The odds are stacked against you; you just can't win. You know there are some people who will do anything to make sure that they win, even if it means eliminating anyone or anything that stands in their way. They only bet on a sure thing...a Dead Certainty.

On the night of April 14th 1865, President Abraham Lincoln attended a performance at the Ford Theatre in Washington. A single shot fired by John Wilkes Booth hit the President in the back of the head. He slumped to the floor, and died a few hours later without recovering consciousness. Was Booth a lone assassin? Or was he part of a wider conspiracy?

The name's Daniels, Jack Daniels - just like the whiskey you know. I'm a private detective. And I can't help butting my nose into other people's business. It's what I do. You get used to it. It becomes a way of life almost. After a while it comes natural to you, automatic, like breathing, or eating, although not quite as enjoyable. It's a habit that I just can't break. I just can't help it. But sometimes it can lead you into trouble....

Tom Kendall had been with the 32nd Precinct, New York Police Department, for just under 10 years. But now he wanted a change. Now he wanted to start his own private detective agency. He had grand ideas. He wasn’t interested in just any old case. Oh no, he would handle only the big-time cases, the expensive ones. He would be able to take his pick, the ones that he wanted, where the stakes were high and so were the rewards. He knew exactly the kind of case that he wanted. Anything else would not do, and it would just be turned down flat.

Whittaker passed the drinks over. “Anyway, it seems that he’s got himself into a bit of bother,” he continued. “A very serious bit of bother.” “Bother?” repeated Kendall. Whittaker heaved a sigh. “Yes you know,” he replied. “Trouble.” Kendall nodded. “Oh trouble, I get you,” he said. “So what sort of bother are we talking about?” Whittaker took another drink. “Well it’s a case of murder I’m afraid.”

‘To make a killing in the City’ is a phrase often used within the financial world, to indicate making a large profit on investments, or through dealings on the stock market--the bigger the profit, the bigger the killing. However, Tom Kendall, a private detective, on vacation in London, has a different kind of killing in mind when he hears about the death of one of his fellow passengers who traveled with him on the plane from Miami. It was suicide apparently, a simple overdose of prescribed tablets. Kendall immediately offers his help to Scotland Yard. He is shocked when he is told his services will not be required. They can manage perfectly well without him, thank you.