Best Crime Fiction Audiobooks Novels & Stories

We always had to be available whenever it was required of us. “Sorry, we lost track of time,” Zayn apologized quickly, running his hands through his hair stressfully. Boss shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to waste any more time. “It better not happen again,” he muttered briefly, before cutting to the chase. “Anyway, there's been some mass murders in Manhattan lately. I'll need you two to investigate these, and do what you can to find out who was behind them.” “Fuck,” Zayn heaved. “Is there a pattern between them?”

He's white snowy hair gelled backwards,lips held in a tight purse and facial expression almost unreadable He's walking steps light but yet could make someone hold their breaths He's right hand assistant;Tikka dressed in a black leather jeans and black jacket held a pillow carrying a pistol. Immediately he stepped into the room, Lewis yanked the pistol and with astonishing accuracy shot a man on the head "Boss "Tikka muttered sliently. She's not surprised he killed without a second thought After all He's Lewis Flyheart;the most ruthless mafia in the whole country. He's the CEO of Flyheart empire but yet he's freaking dangerous. He's family background;unknown

The paramedics carried Biola’s body on the stretcher to the ambulance, and drove her to the morgue. Lekan saw the police officers off to their vehicle. “Mr. Johnson, we would try our possible best to make sure that the perpetrators of this crime is brought to book” Inspector Fadairo said, as he shook hands with Lekan, the police officers boarded their vehicle and left. *************************************************** London, England. 10th January 2009. Owen McLean sat on a very cozy and comfortable, arm chair in his study, he lived in a posh home in the highbrow borough of Kesington and Chelsea, studying his company’s financial report for the previous year.

Yeah, he'd learned to practice patience, but dealing with the police while they questioned Betty had just about driven him to the edge of reason. He opened the car door for her, holding her elbow as she climbed in. Daylight had waned, and the parking garage was dimly lit, the sound of other hospital visitors echoing through the cement structures. Betty listened for other things. Furtive footballs on the pavement. The click of a gun safety being released. The slide of fabric or the soft huff is a breath. Someone had tried to kill Dan just a few weeks ago, and there was no reason to believe that person would be content to let him live. The road went quiet as he stepped around the car. The soun

Ó Celia thought as she holstered her gun and pulled her phone. Riley answered on the third ring. Mr. Smooth. She could imagine him looking at the phone and seeing her name but waiting to respond as if he hadnÕt been anticipating it. He very well should be. The man had moved her things out of her home and into his without asking her. ÒItÕs a crime to break into someone elseÕs home and remove their things. ItÕs called theft.Ó ÒProve it, detective, now where are you? SunÕs going down, and these steaks arenÕt going to keep.Ó

The news anchor’s voice was serious: “Last night, a major breakthrough in the fight against organized crime took place in the quiet neighborhood of La Villa Avenue. Police have arrested ten individuals believed to be part of a notorious criminal network. Sources indicate the raid may have disrupted a planned operation. Authorities are hailing this as a significant victory, though no further details have been released.” Leonardo burst out laughing, slapping his knee. “Zagaff’s goons finally got what was coming to them!” he said to himself, his grin was wide. “Serves them right, running their dirty business in that neighborhood. What fools!”

Alexander's Point of View I tried to speak, but the cops held grins on their faces, dragging me out of the house. “Please, Father, I didn't do this,” I begged, but all my pleas fell on deaf ears. The cops dipped their hands into my pants pockets, pulling out a wad of cash. On closer inspection, we noticed the money had an ink stain on its tip. “Yup, that’s mine. I mark all my money,” he said, a hint of pride in his hoarse voice, as if he had won the lottery.

The kind of smile you give when a chess game finally ends, and your opponent has walked straight into the trap you've set from the very first move. "Detective Bell." My voice was calm, almost gentle. "That recording… Doesn't it prove the killer poisoned those four, and then drank his own poison? Doesn't that sound like a guilty man taking himself out? "I don't understand why you all keep looking at me. From start to finish, I never did a thing. Just because Sharon suffered, just because I hated them for it, that makes me guilty? "I told you before. Yes, I hated them. But I'm just one woman. What could I really do?"

How did she get ahead in her business if she didn’t take credit for what she’d done? “You found the evidence I needed to prove who perpetrated the sabotage. With that in the forensic auditor’s hands they’ll piece together a case, and we’ll end their life of crime.” “Oh, good grief. Life of crime? Now you sound like one of those narrators for a true crime show. Be cautious about sharing such words. I sometimes work with and meet these individuals. If they hear my husband speaks like that.” Merina said.

He obviously loved thrillers as most of the books were made up with novels by Ian Fleming, Desmond Bagley, Hammond Innes, Ian Rankin, Michael Robotham and Alistair MacLean. My mobile sounded and I moved out on to the landing. Caller ID: Kimberley. “Hello, darling,” I said into the phone. “I need a drink,” she explained. “Bad morning?” “Ever since that break-in you investigated, Bio-Preparations insist on having an audit every month,” she said breathlessly. “Why have they got to have it on a bloody Saturday?” “You poor thing,” I said soothingly, feeling partially responsible. “So how about the Waggoner’s Rest?” She persisted. “I’ve just arrived back at the quay.”