The sanatorium A novel

Sarah Pearse

Book - 2021

"A chilling debut in which a detective must uncover the dark history of a luxury hotel in the Alps if she has any hope of stopping the deaths that won't let up. . . Half-hidden by forest and overshadowed by threatening peaks, Le Sommet has always been a sinister place. Once a sanatorium treating tuberculosis patients, it was abandoned years ago and had fallen into disrepair. Long plagued by troubling rumours, it has recently been renovated into a lavish hotel. And an imposing, isolated hotel, high up in the Swiss Alps, is the last place detective Elin Warner wants to be. But having received an invitation out of the blue to celebrate her estranged brother's recent engagement, she had no choice but to accept. Arriving in the mi...dst of a threatening storm, Elin is immediately on edge. Though it's a stunning retreat, something about the hotel makes her nervous - as does her brother, Isaac. When Elin wakes the following the morning to discover Isaac's fiancée Laure has vanished without a trace, Elin's alarm grows. With the storm cutting off access to and from the hotel, the more the remaining guests start to panic. Yet no one has realized that another woman has gone missing. And she's the only one who could have warned them just how much danger they're all in . . "--

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1st Floor FICTION/Pearse, Sarah Due Oct 30, 2024
1st Floor FICTION/Pearse, Sarah Due Oct 20, 2024
Subjects
Genres
Mystery fiction
Detective and mystery fiction
Novels
Thrillers (Fiction)
Published
[New York] : Pamela Dorman Books/Viking 2021.
Language
English
Main Author
Sarah Pearse (author)
Edition
First American edition
Item Description
Series information and subtitle from jacket.
Physical Description
390 pages ; 24 cm
ISBN
9780593296677
Contents unavailable.
Review by Booklist Review

Le Sommet, the prestigious hotel fashioned from a former TB sanatorium, is more than just the setting for this atmospheric debut mystery: the building's history ultimately propels the plot. Elin Warner, an English police detective on extended leave, is somewhat fragile when she arrives at the hotel high in the Swiss Alps to celebrate the engagement of Elin's older brother, Isaac, and Elin's old friend Laure Strehl, a hotel staffer. Elin is dealing not only with the aftermath of a difficult case (about which more backstory would have been welcome), she also has a major unresolved issue with Isaac about the death of their younger brother, Sam, years earlier, as well as regret in letting her friendship with Laure wither. Then, as heavy snows lead to potential avalanches and the hotel is largely evacuated and totally isolated, bodies are discovered; it's clear that a killer is on the loose. With police unable to reach the hotel, Elin assumes the role of investigator, eventually putting herself at risk. Pearse not only creates believably fallible characters, she also vividly portrays the frigid landscape of Le Sommet buffeted by blizzards, and a chilling epilogue cries out for a sequel. Crime-fiction readers will want to keep an eye on Pearse.

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Pearse's engrossing debut boasts a highly atmospheric setting. Le Sommet, originally a sanatorium for tuberculosis patients in the Swiss Alps, was abandoned for decades, until it was renovated as a luxury hotel. British police detective Elin Warner and her boyfriend, Willy Riley, come to Le Sommet at the invitation of her selfish brother, Isaac, a university lecturer in Lausanne, and his fiancée, Laure Strehl, to celebrate the couple's engagement. The emotionally fragile Elin is on break from her job, following an intense case and the death of her mother, whose funeral Isaac was too busy to attend. When Laure goes missing the day after Elin and Willy's arrival, Elin learns that others have disappeared from Le Sommet, long shrouded in sinister rumors about its patients' brutal treatment. Might Isaac, whom she blames for the decades-old death of their brother, somehow be involved? The discovery of a body raises the stakes. Readers will applaud as Elin, for all her anxieties, emerges as a competent sleuth. This dark tale of family dynamics is sure to please suspense fans. Agent: Charlotte Seymour, Andrew Nurnberg Assoc. (Feb.)

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Kirkus Book Review

A hotel built on the grounds of a sanatorium has more dead bodies than paying guests. A police detective on sabbatical after flubbing a case, Elin Warner travels with her boyfriend, Will, to Le Sommet, a remote, glass-walled, five-star hotel in the Swiss Alps, at the invitation of her estranged brother, Isaac. Isaac is throwing a party to celebrate his engagement to Laure, assistant manager at the hotel, which has been the focus of local controversy due to its shadowy history. Elin's creepy feelings about the trip are quickly confirmed as a storm cuts off access to the mountain, a receptionist is kidnapped, a dead body is found in the snow, and Laure disappears. As overloaded, grisly, and ultimately silly as Pearse's locked-room debut may be, the biggest mystery is how Elin ever made it out of the police academy. As she slowly reasons her way through the unfolding situation, her deductions of even the most obvious points appear in italics--"That means Laure has another phone." "This…it isn't an accident. She's been killed. This is murder"--as do what seem to be the protagonist's questions to herself about how to move things along. "So where could they have gone?" "So what are my next steps going to be?" "She examines the glass balustrade in front of her. Can I get over it?" What Elin can't get over is a tragedy in her childhood for which she holds her brother responsible; it comes up every few pages until being resolved with a not-too-believable twist that may or may not be retwisted in a mystifying epilogue. Fortunately for Elin, she does have a few insider tricks up her sleeve. "She knows that there is an app called Find My iPhone...it would show the last location where it had a signal." Wait. Why are you laughing? This is a thriller! Oh, dear. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Press Release - Under Embargo until midnight March 5th 2018 Le Sommet Hauts de Plumachit Crans Montana 3963 Valais Switzerland 5-STAR HOTEL SET TO OPEN IN THE SWISS RESORT OF CRANS MONTANA Located on a sunny mountain plateau above Crans Montana, high in the Swiss Alps, Le Sommet is the brainchild of Swiss property developer Lucas Caron. After eight years of extensive planning and construction, one of the town's oldest sanatoriums is set to reopen as a luxury hotel. The main building was designed in the early nineteenth century by Caron's great-grandfather, Pierre. It became renowned worldwide as a center for treating tuberculosis before the advent of antibiotics forced its diversification. More recently, it gained international recognition for its innovative architecture, earning the elder Caron a posthumous Swiss Arts Award in 1942. Combining clean lines with large panoramic windows, flat roofs, and unadorned geometrical shapes, one judge described the building as 'groundbreaking' - custom designed to fulfill its function as a hospital, while also creating a seamless transition between the interior and exterior landscapes. Lucas Caron said: "It was time we breathed new life into this building. We were confident that with the right vision, we could create a sensitively restored hotel that would pay homage to its rich past." Under the guidance of Swiss architectural firm Lemaitre SA, a team has been assembled to renovate the building and also add a state-of-the-art spa and event center. Subtly refurbished, Le Sommet will make innovative use of natural, local materials such as wood, slate, and stone. The hotel's elegant, modern interiors will not only echo the powerful topography outside, but will draw on the building's past to create a new narrative. Philippe Volkem, CEO of Valais Tourisme, said, "This will doubtless be the jewel in the crown of what is already one of the finest winter resorts in the world." For press enquiries, please contact Leman PR, Lausanne. For general enquiries / bookings please visit www.lesommetcransmontana.ch. CHAPTER ONE January 2020 Day One The funicular from the valley town of Sierre to Crans‐Montana scores a near‐perfect vertical line up the mountainside. Slicing through snow‐covered vineyards and the small towns of Venthone, Chermignon, Mollens, Randogne, and Bluche, the route, almost three miles long, takes passengers up the mountain in just twelve minutes. In off‐peak season, the funicular is usually half empty. Most people drive up the mountain or take the bus. But today, with the roads almost station‐ ary thanks to heavy traffic, it's full. Elin Warner stands on the left in the packed carriage, absorbing it all: the fat flakes of snow collecting on the windows, the slush‐covered floor piled high with bags, the lanky teenagers shoving through the doors. Her shoulders tense. She's forgotten how kids that age can be: selfish, unaware of anyone but themselves. A sodden sleeve brushes her cheek. She smells damp, cigarettes, fried food, the musky‐citrus tang of cheap aftershave. Then comes a throaty cough. Laughter. A group of men are jostling through the doorway, talking loudly, bulg‐ ing North Face sports bags on their backs. They are squeezing the family next to her farther into the carriage. Into her. An arm rubs hers, beer breath hot against her neck. Panic pushes through her. Her heart is racing. Will it ever stop? It's been a year since the Hayler case and she's still thinking about it, dreaming about it. Waking up in the night, sheets damp with sweat, the dream vivid in her head: the hand around her throat, damp walls contract‐ ing, closing in on her. Then salt water; frothing, sloshing over her mouth, her nose . . . Control it , she tells herself, forcing herself to read the graffiti on the wall of the funicular. Don't let it control you. Her eyes dance over the scrawled letters weaving up the metal: Michel 2010 Bisous xxx Ines & Ric 2016 Following the words up to the window, she startles. Her reflection . . . it pains her to look at it. She's thin. Too thin. It's as if someone's hollowed her out, carved the very core of her away. Her cheekbones are knife sharp, her slanted blue‐gray eyes wider, more pro‐ nounced. Even the choppy mess of pale blond hair, the blur of the scar on her upper lip, doesn't soften her appearance. She's been training nonstop since her mother's death. Ten‐K runs. Pilates. Weights. Cycling on the coast road between Torquay and Exeter in the blistering wind and rain. It's too much, but she doesn't know how to stop, even if she should. It's all she's got; the only tactic to chase away what's inside her head. Elin turns away. Sweat pricks the back of her neck. Looking at Will, she tries to concentrate on his face, the familiar shadow of stubble grazing his chin, the untamable dark blond tufts of his hair. "Will, I'm burning up." His features contract. She can see the blueprint of future wrinkles in his anxious face; a starburst of lines around his eyes, light creases running across his forehead. "You okay?" Elin shakes her head, tears stinging her eyes. "I don't feel right." Will lowers his voice. "About this, or . . ." She knows what he's trying to say: Isaac . It's both; him, the panic, they're intertwined, connected. "I don't know." Her throat feels tight. "I keep going over it, you know, the invitation, out of the blue. Maybe coming was the wrong decision. I should have thought about it more, or at least spoken to him properly before we let him book." "It's not too late. We can always go back. Say I had problems with work." Smiling, Will nudges his glasses up his nose with his forefinger. "This might count as the shortest‐ever holiday on record, but who cares." Elin forces herself to return his smile, a quiet sting of devastation at the contrast between then and now. How easily he's accepted this: the new normal. It's the opposite of when they'd first met. Back then, she was peaking; that's how she thinks of it now. At the pinnacle of her twentysomething life. She'd just bought her first apartment near the beach, the top floor of an old Victorian villa. Bijou, but high ceilings, views of a tiny square of sea. Work was going well--she'd been promoted to detective sergeant, landed a big case, an important one, her mother was responding well to the first round of chemo. She thought she was on top of her grief for Sam, dealing with it, but now . . . Her life has contracted. Closed down to become something that would have been unrecognizable to her a few years ago. The doors are closing now, thick glass panels sliding together. With a jolt, the funicular lurches upward, away from the station, accelerating. Elin closes her eyes, but that only makes it worse. Every sound, every judder, is magnified behind her eyelids. She opens her eyes to see the landscape flashing by: blurry streaks of snow‐covered vineyards, chalets, shops. Her head swims. "I want to get out." "What?" Will turns. He tries to mask it, but she can hear the frustration in his voice. "I need to get out." The funicular pulls into a tunnel. They plunge into darkness, and a woman whoops. Elin breathes in, slowly, carefully, but she can feel it coming--that sense of impending doom. All at once, her blood feels sticky moving through her, yet also like it's rushing everywhere at once. More breaths. Slower, as she'd taught herself. In for four, hold, then out for seven. It's not enough. Her throat contracts. Her breath is coming shallow now, fast. Her lungs are fighting, desperately trying to drag in oxygen. "Your inhaler," Will urges. "Where is it?" Scrabbling in her pocket, she pulls it out, pushes down: good . She presses again, feels the rush of gas hit the back of her throat, reach her windpipe. Within minutes, her breathing regulates. But when her head clears, they're there, in her mind's eye. Her brothers. Isaac. Sam. Images, on loop. She sees soft child faces, cheeks smattered with freckles. The same wideset blue eyes, but while Isaac's are cold, unnerving in their intensity, Sam's fizz with energy, a spark that draws people in. Elin blinks, unable to stop herself thinking about the last time she saw those eyes--vacant, lifeless, that spark . . . snuffed out. She turns to the window, but can't unsee the images from her past: Isaac, smiling at her; that familiar smirk. He holds up his hands, but the five splayed fingers are covered in blood. Elin extends her hand, but she can't reach him. She never can. Excerpted from The Sanatorium: A Novel by Sarah Pearse All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.