Concierge Of Crime Novels & Stories

This guy must be a very careful person, from the moment he committed the crime to the time he ran away, he was calm. Finally he went up to the 7th floor where the crime happened. His eyes were met with a room decorated in a classical European style. Inside there was a cassette machine used to listen to classical music, piano, guitar, trumpet. The owner of the room seems to be a musician or a music lover. In front of the door stood full of police officers who were blocking the crime scene. Seeing that the person coming was a young man in his mid-twenties, a policeman raised his voice and reminded: "This is a crime scene; unauthorized people are not allowed to enter. And if you're a witness co

His hands were flat on the table, his knuckles white. "Then it's over. Bianca is going to prison. Vincent is going to prison. The people who killed Marco are going to answer for what they did." The Director was quiet for a moment. Her eyes moved to the man beside her, the man Alex didn't recognize. "This is Special Agent Connelly," she said. "He's the head of the Organized Crime Division. He's been following your case for months." Connelly leaned forward. His voice was low, measured.

I gasped and automatically took a step back from him but he came forward only to grab my upper arm in a tight, painful grip and pushed me to the nearest wall. His face was inches apart from me and I would have definitely swooned over him if he wasn't this angry. " You're Zachary's whore, aren't you?" He asked, releasing a merciless chuckle. I stared right back to him before bending my head down. Why everyone have to label me as whore? Just because I am related to criminals? Why can't people think that criminals can too have family relations? Chris will never know that for me Zachary is like a brother. For a criminal like Zachary too, family matters but not everyone's gonna believe this. And

“I know he'll come running when he hears I have his little princess in my possession." Luciana's voice cracked. “You monster…” Donatello grinned. “Very soon, when I get my hands on him, the only news trending in Columbia will be 'The Tragic Tale of a Cop's Disappearance'...” He mimed a headline with his hands. “How convenient.” With a final laugh, he walked out of the room.

“It doesn't seem so. You won't be in this room if you are a nobody,” I bit the inside of my cheek. This was already too much. My body ached, my head throbbed, and now this? “I just want to get checked, get cleared, and leave.” He nodded slowly, his gaze still annoyingly amused. “Alright, Nurse Grace. Let’s get you taken care of.” And for the first time, his smile dropped, replaced with a professional look. But I couldn’t trust it. He was Adrian after all. A chronic womanizer.

I soliloquize, bow my head like I have been meditating since the sermon started. "Ma'am, I hope all is alright?" Agnes asked. "Oh yes, I'm fine." I raised my head up immediately. The sermon became and interactive session, where different people contributed their view about the topic, while some talked about their experience. After some minutes, the service ended and it was time to leave before the priest called me. "How are you, Mrs Mitchell ?" He asked me "I'm very well father and you too?" I asked in return. "I'm very well dear. My condolence once again about the demise of your father in law and have you been able to locate or heard from Nathan?"

Jake tagged along like a shadow, giving a small smile to the agents that walked past. "Agent Brown, Agent Spencer." Supervisory Special Agent Harroway dropped a large file on the table that took half the room. "We have a murder case on our hands." "So much for drinking," Jake murmured, bringing a smile to Charlie's lips. "The crime took place at eight p.m two days ago and it's got Cosa Nostra all over it." "Oh, not again," Charlie groaned. Organized crimes never seemed to decrease. Instead, they grew larger in number each day. Despite the risks, they still went on committing crimes while involving in such diabolical crimes giving the squad a non-stop headache.

If Elias was connected to Cyrus, if he was involved in the violence I'd witnessed, then everything I thought I knew about him was all a mask and a lie. Elias's expression shifted, the warmth fading into something more professional. "I told you I'd handle it." "That's not an answer." I crossed my arms, using the gesture to create distance between us. "You said you'd handle it, but you never told me how. Those girls, Elias, children. Axel Connor is a predator, and I need to know that something is being done." Elias moved to his desk, pulling out a folder from his drawer and handing it to me. "I have contact with someone in the New York police department, a detective who owes me a favour. He's

Roderick commanded, his voice barely a murmur. Elias crouched, his hands shaking as he pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. He was still rattled from the adrenaline spike of the electrical trap. The memory of that blue-white arc, the sheer, indifferent violence of it, made his stomach turn. He had signed up for uncovering corporate fraud, not for standing on the precipice of manslaughter in a condemned building. "They’re not following," Elias whispered, though he kept his eyes peeled on the street. "Those goons in the hallway... they’ll be busy for a while, assuming their hearts haven't stopped. We have a few minutes."

"Yes, sir. What can I do for you?" "I'm looking for Jennifer Bennett. Is she in?" The concierge shakes his head. "I'm sorry, we have no-one of that name here." His gaze travels up and down Chad; tall, well-muscled, with corn-blond hair and cornflower-blue eyes. "How about Jenny Conners?" "Oh, that Jenny, the red-haired girl. Yes, I know her. She's a stunner that one, isn't she?" He hesitates. "If you go for that type of course…?" The question hangs in the air.