Thrillers & Suspense
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Remain Silent: A Manon Bradshaw Novel
An immigrant's mysterious death sets off a chilling hunt for the truth in this gripping crime novel from the author of Missing, Presumed
"Brilliantly gripping."-Lucy Foley, author of The Guest List
"A police procedural with real imagination and heart, and a marvelous lightness of style and wit."-Philip Pullman, author of His Dark Materials trilogy
NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY THE GUARDIAN
Newly married and navigating life with a preschooler as well as her adopted adolescent son, Manon Bradshaw is happy to be working part-time in the cold cases department of the Cambridgeshire police force, a job that allows her to potter in, coffee in hand, and log on for a spot of Internet shopping-precisely what she had in mind when she thought of work-life balance. But beneath the surface Manon is struggling with the day-to-day realities of what she'd assumed would be domestic bliss: fights about whose turn it is to clean the kitchen, the bewildering fatigue of having a young child while in her forties, and the fact that she is going to couples counseling alone because her husband feels it would just be her complaining.
But when Manon is on a walk with her four-year-old son in a peaceful suburban neighborhood and discovers the body of a Lithuanian immigrant hanging from a tree with a mysterious note attached, she knows her life is about to change. Suddenly, she is back on the job full-force, trying to solve the suicide-or is it a murder-in what may be the most dangerous and demanding case of her life.
"Brilliantly gripping."-Lucy Foley, author of The Guest List
"A police procedural with real imagination and heart, and a marvelous lightness of style and wit."-Philip Pullman, author of His Dark Materials trilogy
NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY THE GUARDIAN
Newly married and navigating life with a preschooler as well as her adopted adolescent son, Manon Bradshaw is happy to be working part-time in the cold cases department of the Cambridgeshire police force, a job that allows her to potter in, coffee in hand, and log on for a spot of Internet shopping-precisely what she had in mind when she thought of work-life balance. But beneath the surface Manon is struggling with the day-to-day realities of what she'd assumed would be domestic bliss: fights about whose turn it is to clean the kitchen, the bewildering fatigue of having a young child while in her forties, and the fact that she is going to couples counseling alone because her husband feels it would just be her complaining.
But when Manon is on a walk with her four-year-old son in a peaceful suburban neighborhood and discovers the body of a Lithuanian immigrant hanging from a tree with a mysterious note attached, she knows her life is about to change. Suddenly, she is back on the job full-force, trying to solve the suicide-or is it a murder-in what may be the most dangerous and demanding case of her life.
Editorial Reviews
"Susie Steiner takes the pulse of our times while weaving a brilliantly gripping tale. Manon Bradshaw is one of my favorite literary creations of all time. I'm so envious of Susie's talent. Her writing is truly without parallel."-Lucy Foley, author of The Hunting Party
"Remain Silent is her best. Hurrah for DI Manon Bradshaw in all her tender, outrageously rude, insightful, and flawed magnificence. Flew through it, laughing out loud at her gags. And then cried at the end. Perfect. Loved it."-Fiona Barton, author of The Suspect
"Remain Silent made me laugh, kept me guessing till the end, and made me care long after I'd closed the book. No one writes crime fiction like Susie Steiner: Agatha Christie as scripted by Victoria Wood or Alan Bennett."-Erin Kelly, author of Stone Mothers
"Funny, and sad, and astonishingly smart."-Katherine Heiny, author of Standard Deviation
"Manon Bradshaw is SUCH a great creation. Remain Silent is so spot-on about love, relationships, middle-age, being a woman. The plot broke my heart. So MOVING."-Marian Keyes, author of Grown Ups
"I can't imagine reading a better crime novel this year. A beautifully wrapped gift of a tale that both chills and warms the heart. I loved it."-Renée Knight, author of The Secretary
"Remain Silent is brilliant; I cherished every page. Funny, tender, wise, angry, and completely gripping, this book is a joy. Manon is a glorious heroine and Susie Steiner is a writer beyond compare."-Jane Casey, author of Cruel Acts
"Susie Steiner is a genius. Simultaneously heartbreaking and hilarious, profound and page-turning, this book contains multitudes."-Lucie Whitehouse, author of Before We Met
"It's [Susie Steiner's] best yet, which is saying something. Her fictional detective Manon Bradshaw is one of my favour...
"Remain Silent is her best. Hurrah for DI Manon Bradshaw in all her tender, outrageously rude, insightful, and flawed magnificence. Flew through it, laughing out loud at her gags. And then cried at the end. Perfect. Loved it."-Fiona Barton, author of The Suspect
"Remain Silent made me laugh, kept me guessing till the end, and made me care long after I'd closed the book. No one writes crime fiction like Susie Steiner: Agatha Christie as scripted by Victoria Wood or Alan Bennett."-Erin Kelly, author of Stone Mothers
"Funny, and sad, and astonishingly smart."-Katherine Heiny, author of Standard Deviation
"Manon Bradshaw is SUCH a great creation. Remain Silent is so spot-on about love, relationships, middle-age, being a woman. The plot broke my heart. So MOVING."-Marian Keyes, author of Grown Ups
"I can't imagine reading a better crime novel this year. A beautifully wrapped gift of a tale that both chills and warms the heart. I loved it."-Renée Knight, author of The Secretary
"Remain Silent is brilliant; I cherished every page. Funny, tender, wise, angry, and completely gripping, this book is a joy. Manon is a glorious heroine and Susie Steiner is a writer beyond compare."-Jane Casey, author of Cruel Acts
"Susie Steiner is a genius. Simultaneously heartbreaking and hilarious, profound and page-turning, this book contains multitudes."-Lucie Whitehouse, author of Before We Met
"It's [Susie Steiner's] best yet, which is saying something. Her fictional detective Manon Bradshaw is one of my favour...
Readers Top Reviews
Kerrysinger Ellen Do
…there will be no more of the wit and wisdom of the late Susie Steiner’s DI Manon. My kind of women.
Ellen W
This is a great series. So sad this will be the last book. Characters are so well developed. Manon is so believable and real. The plots are realistic and not so far fetched. They aren’t like every other mystery. More complex and thought provoking. Highly recommend!
Steve
Really good book when she gets around to letting the story flow. I appreciate a good background filler but I got a little bogged down with all the Lithuanian stuff.
Laurel-Rain Snow
Newly married and navigating life with a preschooler as well as her adopted adolescent son, Manon Bradshaw is happy to be working part-time in the cold cases department of the Cambridgeshire police force, a job that allows her to potter in, coffee in hand, and log on for a spot of Internet shopping—precisely what she had in mind when she thought of work-life balance. But beneath the surface Manon is struggling with the day-to-day realities of what she’d assumed would be domestic bliss: fights about whose turn it is to clean the kitchen, the bewildering fatigue of having a young child while in her forties, and the fact that she is going to couples counseling alone because her husband feels it would just be her complaining. But when Manon is on a walk with her four-year-old son in a peaceful suburban neighborhood and discovers the body of a Lithuanian immigrant hanging from a tree with a mysterious note attached, she knows her life is about to change. Suddenly, she is back on the job full-force, trying to solve the suicide—or is it a murder—in what may be the most dangerous and demanding case of her life. My Thoughts: I like the character Manon Bradshaw, having read and enjoyed previous books in the series. Her internal monologues are astute and sometimes funny, while her diligence on the job shows through, even when she sometimes feels frustrated by her colleagues and her superior officer who seems bent on changing the way Manon does her job. Manon’s coworker Davy is another character from previous books, and Remain Silent is told between the two of them via alternating narratives. Will Manon eventually discover the answers in the strange case involving immigrants and slave labor? Can she find her way to balancing her home and work life? Another story that I enjoyed, and which earned 4.5 stars. ***
Oh man, I will sorely miss Manon. It's so tragic that the author suffered through major illness and loss of her sight. Judging by her Manon series, she sure kept her sense of humor. Sosad to think of all the great books we'll never read because Susie Steiner's life was cut short. What a tragic loss. I wish I could have known her! My heartfelt condolences go out to her family and friends.
Short Excerpt Teaser
Day 1, Midnight
Matis
•••
His key in the door, he shoulders across the threshold, stumbles wildly up the stairs to the bathroom. He can't risk being beaten for soiling the carpet. His stomach is coiling and despite it being empty, he vomits into the toilet: acid bile. In a strange way, the retching comforts him.
Dimitri is at the bathroom's open doorway.
"Are you all right?" he asks.
Matis, kneeling by the toilet bowl, groans.
Dimitri approaches. "Too much to drink?" he asks.
When Matis turns to look up at him, Dimitri says, "My God, what happened to you?"
"Lukas is dead," Matis sobs. "I brought him here and now he's dead. I never saw such hatred, Dimitri. Why do they hate us so much?"
Dimitri shrugs sadly.
"I hope he haunts them out of their beds at night," says Matis.
"To be haunted, you must have a conscience," says Dimitri.
"And they have none."
Dimitri lifts him to his feet. "Come, you need a drink."
In the kitchen, while Dimitri locates vodka, Matis starts shaking.
Dimitri says, "The police here, they will look into it properly. Not like back home." He hands Matis the bottle. Matis swigs. Winces. It burns his sore stomach.
"It won't bring him back. This is my fault."
In the bedroom, which contains four men sleeping on mattresses on the floor, Dimitri takes the empty place beside Matis, to comfort him. The mattress where Lukas used to whimper in the dark, until one of the men shouted, "Užsičiaupk po velnių"-shut the f*** up.
"Do you need something to sleep?" Dimitri asks. "That guy, the dealer who helped Saulius, he gave us pills."
Matis shakes his head, rolls onto his back.
"Sleep," Dimitri says. "We must work tomorrow."
If life were a force of will, Matis could wish himself dead. No such luck. His body, tired and broken, keeps going. He keeps on waking on the stinking mattress, soaked in the sweat of other men who had been in the same situation before him. And what happened to them?
When they are in the van at 4 a.m., it is a moment of reprieve-a moment to exhale. They have survived an ordeal, have dragged themselves from too little sleep, got to the BP garage, where migrants from across town are picked up for agricultural work, in time. They cannot be punished for missing the call, for being late. The next ordeal-catching enough chickens through the fog of their exhaustion, through the sting of the scratches on their hands reopening-would come later. Almost all the men fell straight to sleep in the van. Chin to chest. Forehead to window.
He's always sleeping with this ragtag of psychos, the weird intimacy of sharing a room. The snoring, someone talking in his sleep, the smells emitted by bodies at night, thick and human and perhaps repulsive, but also deeply, vulnerably personal. Lukas may have whimpered on his mattress at night, but Matis didn't. This had been his idea, and he had had to make it work, had had to make it look like it was working. Up to now, he'd had to survive, even though he didn't want to, to tell both himself and Lukas that their bind was temporary, a bump on the path to freedom. But with Lukas gone . . .
Day 1, 6:20 a.m.
Manon
•••
"Wake me up now, Mummy!" Teddy yells from the next room.
Manon gives Mark a shove and he rolls obediently out of bed.
She squints at her watch. 6:20 a.m. "F***'s sake," she says, then turns over and descends back to delicious depths. The warmth of the duvet, the darkness of the room thanks to the blackout curtain lining, the numbness of her mind, broken by harsh winds of irritation: the feel of Mark and Teddy getting into the bed.
She would make all manner of pacts with Lucifer to be allowed fresh descent. Give me five minutes, three minutes, one minute. I will give you my soul.
There will be a moment of lovely cuddling, the velvety plush of Ted's cheek pads, his squidge-able limbs-forearms, upper arms, padded with gentle fat, still of a toddler. She cherishes this remnant of babyhood. She's become a baby botherer in cafés, overenunciating "Hallo!" into their cloudy eyes, while their mothers look on her with suspicion.
Ted pushes his fingers up her nose and says, "Hello, Defective Mummy!" because he doesn't know the word is "detective." Or perhaps he does.
She can feel the crescendo of fidgetry begin: knees in the groin, kissing that becomes biting, until one of them submits to predawn Weetabix.
Standing over her boy, she holds his tiny penis away from his body so the yellow arc of piss, warm and high, hits the hedge. She's wondering whether to ring Mark to tell him to nudge Fly, make sure he isn't oversleeping. He's in an important moment at school (GC...
Matis
•••
His key in the door, he shoulders across the threshold, stumbles wildly up the stairs to the bathroom. He can't risk being beaten for soiling the carpet. His stomach is coiling and despite it being empty, he vomits into the toilet: acid bile. In a strange way, the retching comforts him.
Dimitri is at the bathroom's open doorway.
"Are you all right?" he asks.
Matis, kneeling by the toilet bowl, groans.
Dimitri approaches. "Too much to drink?" he asks.
When Matis turns to look up at him, Dimitri says, "My God, what happened to you?"
"Lukas is dead," Matis sobs. "I brought him here and now he's dead. I never saw such hatred, Dimitri. Why do they hate us so much?"
Dimitri shrugs sadly.
"I hope he haunts them out of their beds at night," says Matis.
"To be haunted, you must have a conscience," says Dimitri.
"And they have none."
Dimitri lifts him to his feet. "Come, you need a drink."
In the kitchen, while Dimitri locates vodka, Matis starts shaking.
Dimitri says, "The police here, they will look into it properly. Not like back home." He hands Matis the bottle. Matis swigs. Winces. It burns his sore stomach.
"It won't bring him back. This is my fault."
In the bedroom, which contains four men sleeping on mattresses on the floor, Dimitri takes the empty place beside Matis, to comfort him. The mattress where Lukas used to whimper in the dark, until one of the men shouted, "Užsičiaupk po velnių"-shut the f*** up.
"Do you need something to sleep?" Dimitri asks. "That guy, the dealer who helped Saulius, he gave us pills."
Matis shakes his head, rolls onto his back.
"Sleep," Dimitri says. "We must work tomorrow."
If life were a force of will, Matis could wish himself dead. No such luck. His body, tired and broken, keeps going. He keeps on waking on the stinking mattress, soaked in the sweat of other men who had been in the same situation before him. And what happened to them?
When they are in the van at 4 a.m., it is a moment of reprieve-a moment to exhale. They have survived an ordeal, have dragged themselves from too little sleep, got to the BP garage, where migrants from across town are picked up for agricultural work, in time. They cannot be punished for missing the call, for being late. The next ordeal-catching enough chickens through the fog of their exhaustion, through the sting of the scratches on their hands reopening-would come later. Almost all the men fell straight to sleep in the van. Chin to chest. Forehead to window.
He's always sleeping with this ragtag of psychos, the weird intimacy of sharing a room. The snoring, someone talking in his sleep, the smells emitted by bodies at night, thick and human and perhaps repulsive, but also deeply, vulnerably personal. Lukas may have whimpered on his mattress at night, but Matis didn't. This had been his idea, and he had had to make it work, had had to make it look like it was working. Up to now, he'd had to survive, even though he didn't want to, to tell both himself and Lukas that their bind was temporary, a bump on the path to freedom. But with Lukas gone . . .
Day 1, 6:20 a.m.
Manon
•••
"Wake me up now, Mummy!" Teddy yells from the next room.
Manon gives Mark a shove and he rolls obediently out of bed.
She squints at her watch. 6:20 a.m. "F***'s sake," she says, then turns over and descends back to delicious depths. The warmth of the duvet, the darkness of the room thanks to the blackout curtain lining, the numbness of her mind, broken by harsh winds of irritation: the feel of Mark and Teddy getting into the bed.
She would make all manner of pacts with Lucifer to be allowed fresh descent. Give me five minutes, three minutes, one minute. I will give you my soul.
There will be a moment of lovely cuddling, the velvety plush of Ted's cheek pads, his squidge-able limbs-forearms, upper arms, padded with gentle fat, still of a toddler. She cherishes this remnant of babyhood. She's become a baby botherer in cafés, overenunciating "Hallo!" into their cloudy eyes, while their mothers look on her with suspicion.
Ted pushes his fingers up her nose and says, "Hello, Defective Mummy!" because he doesn't know the word is "detective." Or perhaps he does.
She can feel the crescendo of fidgetry begin: knees in the groin, kissing that becomes biting, until one of them submits to predawn Weetabix.
Standing over her boy, she holds his tiny penis away from his body so the yellow arc of piss, warm and high, hits the hedge. She's wondering whether to ring Mark to tell him to nudge Fly, make sure he isn't oversleeping. He's in an important moment at school (GC...
