Concierge Of Crime Novels & Stories

I know that. “I didn’t call her”, I hear Hazel say, her voice trembling, and so are her hands as she grabs her phone to show to the police. I recognise him. He is one of the ones that are on our payslip. He does some dirty work for us when we don’t have time to do it ourselves. He is our rat inside the NYPD.

I said. “A criminal?” Alliyah asked. I slightly nodded my head. “He looks like a big one. You know, that kind of person who does horrifying things and such, but never gets caught because of their connections and power.” Alliyah’s expression changed. She looks rather confused and worried. “So, what exactly is he? A drug lord? A hitman? A spy?” She asked. “I don’t know. All I know is he sells guns and tests them on real people.” I answered.

The question was more to myself than it was to him. In the reception there was a small table and on it sat a big woman. She looked at me as soon as I walked in, not recognizing me or looking very happy to see me. When I reached the table, she spoke, "How may I help you?” Her voice was rough and unpleasant, "I am detective Melody. I've come here due to a report this rehab made on a former patient” She sat up straighter when I said what I did. "I'm sorry about that, I should have known away” she shook her head and smiled, "You don't look anything like a crackhead”

"Still trying to flip the script? Wesley slumbered alone then. Who else could infiltrate like that? In the whole complex, only you have those feathers. The janitor and residents will attest. And your nail fragment matches the tire scene impeccably." Each word drained color from her face, unrelenting. "Our bond?" he sneered. "We've bumped into each other a few times. We're barely acquaintances. My wife's postpartum stuff is private, not fodder for outsiders. Your intrusive care unnerved me from the outset, but politeness restrained me. Now I see that was a mistake, letting your twisted delusions fester till you targeted my family." His declaration barricaded any angle of argument. Without del

The VVIP lounge on the balcony felt like a sniper’s nest, partitioned by reinforced glass that overlooked the chaos below. The air was thick with the scent of expensive gin and illegal cigars. The crowd was a lethal cocktail of the city’s elite. I saw pop stars rubbing shoulders with hitmen. In a corner booth, I spotted Lorenzo DeMarco holding court with a couple of high-end ghosts. Further down, I recognized Giovanni Morelli. He was there with his wife, and I knew for a fact that man’s 'import-export' business was written in blood.

Dorothy speaks loudly, shaking her head. “My God. The basement? Is there something of value?” “I don’t think so. Just some janitor closets, tools, and wires. And the panels, of course.” “Maybe just kids that wanted to play gangsters.” Ruth adds, making me giggle internally. “This is outrageous.” I say, getting a few confirming nods. “And the concierge was attacked to get in?” “No!” Dorothy says, waving her finger. “The break-in happened last night. The concierge was knocked out about a week ago. I think it was a Sunday, wasn’t it Ruth?” She turns to her friend, who nods repeatedly.

I heard myself say, still sounding hesitant as I was unwilling to accept that this was how it would end. I needed to find who did this, so it won't happen again. I can't just accept this news. “But…it is not enough,” Conor's eyes widened in a fraction as he met my hard stare. “Keep digging,” “Mr Wellington I have been digging!” My eyes narrowed, “Obviously it hasn't been deep enough,” I replied coldly, “There is no perfect crime, Conor,” I pointed out, holding the man's gaze with a dangerous look. “You will get me the answers I need, understood?”

But…. “There is an issue I would like to discuss,” he said, his face turning serious. “We have noticed suspicious activity in the east… just a few days ago, Connor turned up dead,” he said. Connor is a dealer in everything illegal that they can get. “Do we have any leads?” I asked. He shook his head, “Nothing other than the fact that Kane and Noah had paid a visit to the east… might be a coincidence or…” “Plain execution,” I muttered.

“He claims that you’re the only person who can help but Dylan Reed in check which to me is nonsense but I’m just going by what he says.” “So you have the job.” She said. Hold on, was this a woman not listening to me? I didn’t apply to be a concierge. I don’t care what transpired or what kind of conversation her husband and she had. I wasn’t going to be a concierge to Dylan. That was basically throwing myself to the wolves and even if I do survive and he doesn’t kill me, he’d just turn me into a slave I know it. He and his team… Especially that manager of his. They’d love to start sending me on errands all in the name of me being his personal “concierge.”

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