Programmed To Kill: The Politics Of Serial Murder

The President. The Vice President. The Senator. The Congresswoman. The Mayor. Behind every power comes with great secrets no one knows about. Five women who will show how dirty and utterly pleasurable politics can be; because no matter how you will look at it... Politics will always be a dirty game.

Elvira Corleone was the precious daughter of the Corleone family, a breathtaking beauty well-known in their inner circle. Whoever dared provoke her either ended up submitting to her or as a body at the bottom of Bayton Harbor. One day, her best friend, Lilian Allen, made a daring bet. "Vira, make my brother fall for you, and I'll give you the power of judgment over Bayton Harbor's underground scene." Elvira grinned, bold and confident. She pressed the cigar out in the ashtray. "Lilian, you know I've never failed to get what I want." Yet, plans never worked out the way one would expect.

The sequel to The Snow Storm tells the story of Owen, the son and brother of the infamous killers at the now well known motel, dubbed the Murder Motel. Owen is just trying to live a normal life, thinking that he has finally managed to put the past behind him, when a new string of disappearances seem to suggest that he is carrying on in his late father's footsteps. But when a copy cat killer goes so far as to frame him for the murders, he needs all the help that he can get to clear his name. That is where journalist Kate Lyston comes in. She believes that he is innocent and works along side of him to prove it. Will they fall in love at the Murder Motel, or will she be it's latest victim?

During the holiday, I took my whole family on a trip. Just as we were about to head back, more than ten police cars surrounded us at the guesthouse. The police showed a video. In it, under surveillance cameras, I drove to a forest near a popular tourist town the day before and dumped a corpse. Even more frightening, there was a strange woman sitting in the car. After throwing away the body, the two of us immediately engaged in intimate acts inside the car. Hannah Walker slapped me hard across the face. "No wonder you insisted on going to that tourist town to buy snacks for us—you were using it as an excuse to go on a date! "After doing something so inhumane, you still had the nerve to do such filthy things in the car?" However, yesterday, I had clearly gone to the town alone to buy snacks and returned. There was no such horrifying experience at all. Without another word, the police opened the trunk. When the searchlight swept across it, it was filled with bloodstains from the victim's body. In the corner, they also found the murder weapon with my fingerprints on it. I had no way to defend myself. I fell from being a rocket engineer, a hero in the country's aerospace field, to a death row prisoner. Due to the severity of the case, I was sent to the execution ground in less than a month. My parents and child, who had been on the trip with me, were blocked at the guesthouse by the victim's family and beaten to death. However, even as reality dawned on me, I still did not understand what had happened that day. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I was about to leave to buy snacks.

Murder Inquiry is a crime fiction, whose plot is about Edwin Wolfgang, a rich New York based banker, who gives out loans for which he accepts artworks as collateral, but kills his customers before they are able to pay back the loan. And a FBI agent attached to the New York field office, who's charged with the task of bringing Mr Wolfgang to book. The story is set in three cities, in three different continents, and is full of twists and turns from the killing of Wolfgang's last two victims, up to his eventual arrest.

"Eve Spencer, I just got into an accident. I hit someone, and I think he's your son!" The day after getting her driver's license, my best friend, Esther Lawson, insisted on driving alone to pick up her son from kindergarten. I warned her that the road was full of heavy trucks and told her to practice a few more days. She rolled her eyes. "Don't worry. I'm a great driver!" She floored the gas pedal and sped off. Not long after, she called me. She was crying so hard she could barely breathe. She said she hit a child at the kindergarten. The boy's face was covered in blood, and he looked like my son. I froze. My son had a fever today. He didn't even go to kindergarten. So who had she hit?