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100%: George Harmon Coxe: Murder with Pictures (ISBN: 9780804152341) 2014, in Englisch, auch als eBook.Nur diese Ausgabe anzeigen…
100%: Coxe, George Harmon: Murder With Pictures (ISBN: 9780060805272) 1981, HarperCollins Publishers, in Englisch, Taschenbuch.Nur diese Ausgabe anzeigen…
100%: Coxe, George Harmon: Murder with Pictures (ISBN: 9780394594859) Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, in Englisch, auch als eBook.Nur diese Ausgabe anzeigen…
Murder with Pictures - 12 Angebote vergleichen
| Preise | 2014 | 2016 | 2018 | 2023 |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Schnitt | € 10,16 | € 26,29 | € 0,00 | € 8,99 |
| Nachfrage |
1
Murder with Pictures (2014)
EN NW EB DLISBN: 9780804152341 bzw. 0804152349, in Englisch, Knopf, Knopf, Knopf, neu, E-Book, elektronischer Download.
Lieferung aus: Deutschland, in-stock.
FOLEY, THE RED-FACED, uniformed deputy on duty in the hall, peeked through one of the glass ovals inset in the leather-covered courtroom doors and said: "Hey, the jury's comin, out!" A concentrated and irritable sigh from the group of news-photographers lounging in the hall greeted the announcement. There was an intangible flurry of movement, a casual shifting of stances. Brant, of the News, sighed wearily. "Boy, it's about time." Tobacco smoke, the residue of a four-hour harvest from an apparently inexhaustible supply of cigarettes, choked the air with a stale stuffy smell and hung suspended in a hazy, pale-blue blanket that shrouded the arched ceiling. Cigarette butts, matches, crumpled paper holders littered the ash-strewn floor. Cameras and bulky black plate-cases were stacked in a row along one wall. Foley said: "It won't be long now," and kept his eye glued to the little glass window. Brant sighed again. Coughlin and Weinstock, who had been matching nickels for the past hour, continued, unimpressed. 'Til bet he gets it," Kesler said. He looked around as though waiting for a challenge. "Who wants to bet Girard ain't guilty?" "Girard's waiting to hear it," Foley announced. Coughlin said: "That's four bits you're in me. A buckor nothing." Weinstock nodded silently and flipped his coin. Coughlin said: "Nuts!" and fished a crumpled bill from his pocket. "It looks like an acquittal," Foley said. "Girard is-" He broke off in sudden alarm and jumped aside. In the next instant the swinging doors slapped outward; Purdy, of the Evening Standard, bucked through the opening. Without breaking his stride, Purdy called: "Not Guilty!" and pounded down the marble floor in his race for a telephone. Foley growled: "Hey, you! Quiet!" Then the rest of the reporters swarmed out of the courtroom and he was forgotten.[from Chapter 1].
FOLEY, THE RED-FACED, uniformed deputy on duty in the hall, peeked through one of the glass ovals inset in the leather-covered courtroom doors and said: "Hey, the jury's comin, out!" A concentrated and irritable sigh from the group of news-photographers lounging in the hall greeted the announcement. There was an intangible flurry of movement, a casual shifting of stances. Brant, of the News, sighed wearily. "Boy, it's about time." Tobacco smoke, the residue of a four-hour harvest from an apparently inexhaustible supply of cigarettes, choked the air with a stale stuffy smell and hung suspended in a hazy, pale-blue blanket that shrouded the arched ceiling. Cigarette butts, matches, crumpled paper holders littered the ash-strewn floor. Cameras and bulky black plate-cases were stacked in a row along one wall. Foley said: "It won't be long now," and kept his eye glued to the little glass window. Brant sighed again. Coughlin and Weinstock, who had been matching nickels for the past hour, continued, unimpressed. 'Til bet he gets it," Kesler said. He looked around as though waiting for a challenge. "Who wants to bet Girard ain't guilty?" "Girard's waiting to hear it," Foley announced. Coughlin said: "That's four bits you're in me. A buckor nothing." Weinstock nodded silently and flipped his coin. Coughlin said: "Nuts!" and fished a crumpled bill from his pocket. "It looks like an acquittal," Foley said. "Girard is-" He broke off in sudden alarm and jumped aside. In the next instant the swinging doors slapped outward; Purdy, of the Evening Standard, bucked through the opening. Without breaking his stride, Purdy called: "Not Guilty!" and pounded down the marble floor in his race for a telephone. Foley growled: "Hey, you! Quiet!" Then the rest of the reporters swarmed out of the courtroom and he was forgotten.[from Chapter 1].
2
Murder with Pictures (2014)
EN NW EB DLISBN: 9780804152341 bzw. 0804152349, in Englisch, 288 Seiten, Knopf, neu, E-Book, elektronischer Download.
Lieferung aus: Vereinigte Staaten von Amerika, ebook for download, Free shipping.
FOLEY, THE RED-FACED, uniformed deputy on duty in the hall, peeked through one of the glass ovals inset in the leather-covered courtroom doors and said: "Hey, the jury's comin, out!" A concentrated and irritable sigh from the group of news-photographers lounging in the hall greeted the announcement. There was an intangible flurry of movement, a casual shifting of stances. Brant, of the News, sighed wearily. "Boy, it's about time." Tobacco smoke, the residue of a four-hour harvest from an apparently inexhaustible supply of cigarettes, choked the air with a stale stuffy smell and hung suspended in a hazy, pale-blue blanket that shrouded the arched ceiling. Cigarette butts, matches, crumpled paper holders littered the ash-strewn floor. Cameras and bulky black plate-cases were stacked in a row along one wall. Foley said: "It won't be long now," and kept his eye glued to the little glass window. Brant sighed again. Coughlin and Weinstock, who had been matching nickels for the past hour, continued, unimpressed. 'Til bet he gets it," Kesler said. He looked around as though waiting for a challenge. "Who wants to bet Girard ain't guilty?" "Girard's waiting to hear it," Foley announced. Coughlin said: "That's four bits you're in me. A buckor nothing." Weinstock nodded silently and flipped his coin. Coughlin said: "Nuts!" and fished a crumpled bill from his pocket. "It looks like an acquittal," Foley said. "Girard is—" He broke off in sudden alarm and jumped aside. In the next instant the swinging doors slapped outward; Purdy, of the Evening Standard, bucked through the opening. Without breaking his stride, Purdy called: "Not Guilty!" and pounded down the marble floor in his race for a telephone. Foley growled: "Hey, you! Quiet!" Then the rest of the reporters swarmed out of the courtroom and he was forgotten. [from Chapter 1], Kindle Edition, Format: Kindle eBook, Label: Knopf, Knopf, Product group: eBooks, Published: 2014-01-08, Release date: 2014-01-08, Studio: Knopf, Sales rank: 2564358.
FOLEY, THE RED-FACED, uniformed deputy on duty in the hall, peeked through one of the glass ovals inset in the leather-covered courtroom doors and said: "Hey, the jury's comin, out!" A concentrated and irritable sigh from the group of news-photographers lounging in the hall greeted the announcement. There was an intangible flurry of movement, a casual shifting of stances. Brant, of the News, sighed wearily. "Boy, it's about time." Tobacco smoke, the residue of a four-hour harvest from an apparently inexhaustible supply of cigarettes, choked the air with a stale stuffy smell and hung suspended in a hazy, pale-blue blanket that shrouded the arched ceiling. Cigarette butts, matches, crumpled paper holders littered the ash-strewn floor. Cameras and bulky black plate-cases were stacked in a row along one wall. Foley said: "It won't be long now," and kept his eye glued to the little glass window. Brant sighed again. Coughlin and Weinstock, who had been matching nickels for the past hour, continued, unimpressed. 'Til bet he gets it," Kesler said. He looked around as though waiting for a challenge. "Who wants to bet Girard ain't guilty?" "Girard's waiting to hear it," Foley announced. Coughlin said: "That's four bits you're in me. A buckor nothing." Weinstock nodded silently and flipped his coin. Coughlin said: "Nuts!" and fished a crumpled bill from his pocket. "It looks like an acquittal," Foley said. "Girard is—" He broke off in sudden alarm and jumped aside. In the next instant the swinging doors slapped outward; Purdy, of the Evening Standard, bucked through the opening. Without breaking his stride, Purdy called: "Not Guilty!" and pounded down the marble floor in his race for a telephone. Foley growled: "Hey, you! Quiet!" Then the rest of the reporters swarmed out of the courtroom and he was forgotten. [from Chapter 1], Kindle Edition, Format: Kindle eBook, Label: Knopf, Knopf, Product group: eBooks, Published: 2014-01-08, Release date: 2014-01-08, Studio: Knopf, Sales rank: 2564358.
3
Murder with Pictures (2014)
EN NW EBISBN: 9780804152341 bzw. 0804152349, in Englisch, Knopf, neu, E-Book.
Lieferung aus: Niederlande, Direct beschikbaar.
bol.com.
FOLEY, THE RED-FACED, uniformed deputy on duty in the hall, peeked through one of the glass ovals inset in the leather-covered courtroom doors and said: "Hey, the jury's comin, out!" A concentrated and irritable sigh from the group of news-photographers lounging in the hall greeted the announcement. There was an intangible flurry of movement, a casual shifting of stances. Brant, of the News, sighed wearily. "Boy, it's about time." Tobacco smoke, the residue of a four-hour harves... FOLEY, THE RED-FACED, uniformed deputy on duty in the hall, peeked through one of the glass ovals inset in the leather-covered courtroom doors and said: "Hey, the jury's comin, out!" A concentrated and irritable sigh from the group of news-photographers lounging in the hall greeted the announcement. There was an intangible flurry of movement, a casual shifting of stances. Brant, of the News, sighed wearily. "Boy, it's about time." Tobacco smoke, the residue of a four-hour harvest from an apparently inexhaustible supply of cigarettes, choked the air with a stale stuffy smell and hung suspended in a hazy, pale-blue blanket that shrouded the arched ceiling. Cigarette butts, matches, crumpled paper holders littered the ash-strewn floor. Cameras and bulky black plate-cases were stacked in a row along one wall. Foley said: "It won't be long now," and kept his eye glued to the little glass window. Brant sighed again. Coughlin and Weinstock, who had been matching nickels for the past hour, continued, unimpressed. 'Til bet he gets it," Kesler said. He looked around as though waiting for a challenge. "Who wants to bet Girard ain't guilty?" "Girard's waiting to hear it," Foley announced. Coughlin said: "That's four bits you're in me. A buckor nothing." Weinstock nodded silently and flipped his coin. Coughlin said: "Nuts!" and fished a crumpled bill from his pocket. "It looks like an acquittal," Foley said. "Girard is—" He broke off in sudden alarm and jumped aside. In the next instant the swinging doors slapped outward; Purdy, of the Evening Standard, bucked through the opening. Without breaking his stride, Purdy called: "Not Guilty!" and pounded down the marble floor in his race for a telephone. Foley growled: "Hey, you! Quiet!" Then the rest of the reporters swarmed out of the courtroom and he was forgotten. [from Chapter 1]Taal: Engels;Formaat: ePub met kopieerbeveiliging (DRM) van Adobe;Kopieerrechten: Het kopiëren van (delen van) de pagina's is niet toegestaan ;Geschikt voor: Alle e-readers te koop bij bol.com (of compatible met Adobe DRM). Telefoons/tablets met Google Android (1.6 of hoger) voorzien van bol.com boekenbol app. PC en Mac met Adobe reader software;Verschijningsdatum: januari 2014;ISBN10: 0804152349;ISBN13: 9780804152341; Engelstalig | Ebook | 2014.
bol.com.
FOLEY, THE RED-FACED, uniformed deputy on duty in the hall, peeked through one of the glass ovals inset in the leather-covered courtroom doors and said: "Hey, the jury's comin, out!" A concentrated and irritable sigh from the group of news-photographers lounging in the hall greeted the announcement. There was an intangible flurry of movement, a casual shifting of stances. Brant, of the News, sighed wearily. "Boy, it's about time." Tobacco smoke, the residue of a four-hour harves... FOLEY, THE RED-FACED, uniformed deputy on duty in the hall, peeked through one of the glass ovals inset in the leather-covered courtroom doors and said: "Hey, the jury's comin, out!" A concentrated and irritable sigh from the group of news-photographers lounging in the hall greeted the announcement. There was an intangible flurry of movement, a casual shifting of stances. Brant, of the News, sighed wearily. "Boy, it's about time." Tobacco smoke, the residue of a four-hour harvest from an apparently inexhaustible supply of cigarettes, choked the air with a stale stuffy smell and hung suspended in a hazy, pale-blue blanket that shrouded the arched ceiling. Cigarette butts, matches, crumpled paper holders littered the ash-strewn floor. Cameras and bulky black plate-cases were stacked in a row along one wall. Foley said: "It won't be long now," and kept his eye glued to the little glass window. Brant sighed again. Coughlin and Weinstock, who had been matching nickels for the past hour, continued, unimpressed. 'Til bet he gets it," Kesler said. He looked around as though waiting for a challenge. "Who wants to bet Girard ain't guilty?" "Girard's waiting to hear it," Foley announced. Coughlin said: "That's four bits you're in me. A buckor nothing." Weinstock nodded silently and flipped his coin. Coughlin said: "Nuts!" and fished a crumpled bill from his pocket. "It looks like an acquittal," Foley said. "Girard is—" He broke off in sudden alarm and jumped aside. In the next instant the swinging doors slapped outward; Purdy, of the Evening Standard, bucked through the opening. Without breaking his stride, Purdy called: "Not Guilty!" and pounded down the marble floor in his race for a telephone. Foley growled: "Hey, you! Quiet!" Then the rest of the reporters swarmed out of the courtroom and he was forgotten. [from Chapter 1]Taal: Engels;Formaat: ePub met kopieerbeveiliging (DRM) van Adobe;Kopieerrechten: Het kopiëren van (delen van) de pagina's is niet toegestaan ;Geschikt voor: Alle e-readers te koop bij bol.com (of compatible met Adobe DRM). Telefoons/tablets met Google Android (1.6 of hoger) voorzien van bol.com boekenbol app. PC en Mac met Adobe reader software;Verschijningsdatum: januari 2014;ISBN10: 0804152349;ISBN13: 9780804152341; Engelstalig | Ebook | 2014.
4
Murder with Pictures
EN NW EBISBN: 9780394594859 bzw. 0394594851, in Englisch, Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, neu, E-Book.
Lieferung aus: Vereinigte Staaten von Amerika, Ebook for download.
Fiction, FOLEY, THE RED-FACED, uniformed deputy on duty inthe hall, peeked through one of the glass ovals inset inthe leather-covered courtroom doors and said: "Hey, the jury's comin, out!" A concentrated and irritable sigh from the group ofnews-photographers lounging in the hall greeted the announcement.There was an intangible flurry of movement,a casual shifting of stances. Brant, of the News , sighed wearily. "Boy, it's abouttime." Tobacco smoke, the residue of a four-hour harvestfrom an apparently inexhaustible supply of cigarettes,choked the air with a stale stuffy smell and hung suspendedin a hazy, pale-blue blanket that shrouded thearched ceiling. Cigarette butts, matches, crumpled paperholders littered the ash-strewn floor. Cameras and bulkyblack plate-cases were stacked in a row along one wall. Foley said: "It won't be long now," and kept his eyeglued to the little glass window. Brant sighed again. Coughlin and Weinstock, who had been matchingnickels for the past hour, continued, unimpressed. 'Til bet he gets it," Kesler said. He looked around asthough waiting for a challenge. "Who wants to bet Girard ain't guilty?" "Girard's waiting to hear it," Foley announced. Coughlin said: "That's four bits you're in me. A buckor nothing." Weinstock nodded silently and flipped hiscoin. Coughlin said: "Nuts!" and fished a crumpled billfrom his pocket. "It looks like an acquittal," Foley said. "Girard is" He broke off in sudden alarm and jumped aside. Inthe next instant the swinging doors slapped outward;Purdy, of the Evening Standard, bucked through theopening. Without breaking his stride, Purdy called: "NotGuilty!" and pounded down the marble floor in his race for a telephone. Foley growled: "Hey, you! Quiet!" Then the rest ofthe reporters swarmed out of the courtroom and he wasforgotten. [ from Chapter 1 ], eBook.
Fiction, FOLEY, THE RED-FACED, uniformed deputy on duty inthe hall, peeked through one of the glass ovals inset inthe leather-covered courtroom doors and said: "Hey, the jury's comin, out!" A concentrated and irritable sigh from the group ofnews-photographers lounging in the hall greeted the announcement.There was an intangible flurry of movement,a casual shifting of stances. Brant, of the News , sighed wearily. "Boy, it's abouttime." Tobacco smoke, the residue of a four-hour harvestfrom an apparently inexhaustible supply of cigarettes,choked the air with a stale stuffy smell and hung suspendedin a hazy, pale-blue blanket that shrouded thearched ceiling. Cigarette butts, matches, crumpled paperholders littered the ash-strewn floor. Cameras and bulkyblack plate-cases were stacked in a row along one wall. Foley said: "It won't be long now," and kept his eyeglued to the little glass window. Brant sighed again. Coughlin and Weinstock, who had been matchingnickels for the past hour, continued, unimpressed. 'Til bet he gets it," Kesler said. He looked around asthough waiting for a challenge. "Who wants to bet Girard ain't guilty?" "Girard's waiting to hear it," Foley announced. Coughlin said: "That's four bits you're in me. A buckor nothing." Weinstock nodded silently and flipped hiscoin. Coughlin said: "Nuts!" and fished a crumpled billfrom his pocket. "It looks like an acquittal," Foley said. "Girard is" He broke off in sudden alarm and jumped aside. Inthe next instant the swinging doors slapped outward;Purdy, of the Evening Standard, bucked through theopening. Without breaking his stride, Purdy called: "NotGuilty!" and pounded down the marble floor in his race for a telephone. Foley growled: "Hey, you! Quiet!" Then the rest ofthe reporters swarmed out of the courtroom and he wasforgotten. [ from Chapter 1 ], eBook.
5
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Murder With Pictures
EN USISBN: 9780060805272 bzw. 0060805277, in Englisch, Harpercollins, gebraucht.
Lieferung aus: Vereinigte Staaten von Amerika, Versandkosten nach: AUT.
Von Händler/Antiquariat, Better World Books.
Harpercollins. Used - Acceptable. Shows definite wear, and perhaps considerable marking on inside. 100% Money Back Guarantee. Shipped to over one million happy customers. Your purchase benefits world literacy!
Von Händler/Antiquariat, Better World Books.
Harpercollins. Used - Acceptable. Shows definite wear, and perhaps considerable marking on inside. 100% Money Back Guarantee. Shipped to over one million happy customers. Your purchase benefits world literacy!
9
Murder With Pictures (1981)
EN PB NWISBN: 9780060805272 bzw. 0060805277, in Englisch, 288 Seiten, Harpercollins, Taschenbuch, neu.
Neu ab: $56.40 (6 Angebote)
Gebraucht ab: $5.29 (13 Angebote)
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Die Beschreibung dieses Angebotes ist von geringer Qualität oder in einer Fremdsprache. Trotzdem anzeigen
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