Concierge Of Crime Novels & Stories

It was a cartel meeting, a gathering of individuals involved in organized crime. Brenda’s heart pounded in her chest as she listened to the dark conversations that unfolded around her—the trade of drugs, arms dealing, and even sex trafficking. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, her world turned upside down. Trying to steady her trembling nerves, Brenda turned to Damien, seeking solace amidst the chaos. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his eyes reflecting a mix of concern and regret. He comforted her as the meeting went on and even after, he tried to talk to her. He told her that it was just business and that he can’t even do anything to stop it even if he wanted to. Brend

"Girlie." I turn, my gaze drawn to the corner that no one ever approaches. It’s where Old Man Mitch resides, a self-appointed relic, an oracle of forgotten tales. He’s always there, shrouded in a perpetual cloud of cheap cigarette smoke, his frame skeletal beneath threadbare clothes, his eyes like ancient coals in a face cross-hatched with wrinkles. He seems to exist solely on a diet of nicotine and bitter memories. Most people dismiss him as a crackhead, a lost cause. But I know better. He was once a police analyst but was discharged due to excessive use of drugs. He just hangs around here for free booze and a pack of cigarettes. He takes a slow, dragging puff from his cigarette, the ember

I rang the bell frantically until the same concierge from earlier came out of a back room, looking surprised. “The woman,” I gasped out without preamble. “The one with Mr. Rivers. Did you see her at all this morning?” The concierge’s eyes turned sympathetic. “I did watch the lobby footage thoroughly while you were upstairs,” she said. “Unfortunately I never witnessed the woman or your husband again.” Luke rapped his fingers on the polished wood counter with annoyance. “Could they have slipped out through a side exit, maybe?” But the concierge was already shaking her head, knitting her brow together. “All of our side doors set off alarms if opened incorrectly,” she said. “I would have been no