Italian Mystery Writers Novels & Stories

I take them and read them, but to be honest, I don't understand much, as it's in Italian. "To be frank, I don't understand any of this. I don't know much Italian." "I'm sorry, ma'am, I sometimes forget. Well, what we have here are access details to the Salvatore accounts, as well as a detailed list of all the accomplices involved in the embezzlement from your husband, and not just him, but also Mr. Massimo's father. Believe me, this information is very valuable. It also mentions the people implicated in my son's murder and those who helped cover it up." With this last statement, his expression changes to one of complete fury. Antonella and I are left stunned, not knowing what to say. After a

My fingers brushed the wood there and a small metal switch hidden underneath. My heartbeat sped up and I pressed it. Click. A section of the desk slid opened and I froze. A hidden drawer. My hands shook as I pulled it open. Inside sat a thick folder, just one and nothing else. Only one folder, as if it is the most important thing in the world. Slowly, I picked it up and my breath caught. A name was written across the cover, not Elena Moretti, not Elena Carter and not any name I had ever used.

And every person in the chapel finally understood one terrifying truth. This was no poison. No illness. No assassination. Someone… Or something… Was killing the most powerful man in Italy. One kiss at a time. End of Chapter 6

"The games I play usually end in blood." Ivan didn't dare move, just glared at me. "Do you have any idea who you're messing with?" I smiled, about to say something. Just then, the crowd parted. A man in a black silk shirt strolled over, oozing a dangerous, magnetic charm with every step. He had the classic profile of an Italian man—deep green eyes, dark brown hair that was just the right amount of messy. Victor Bellini. The Godfather of Italy's largest mafia family.

My gaze focused on the folder, my fingers itching to open it and just see, but my heart begging me to keep my faith in those that I love, to not let a piece of paper ruin us. After a day and a half, my brain won and my heart cried out as I placed my hand over the folder and opened it. I gathered whatever strength I had left in me and read the first paper, the newspaper talking about the explosion and its unknown source. The second discussing the sudden disappearance of the one and only, the head of the Italian mafia, Isaac Viarchi. Mafia? Oh my god. I can't do this.

"I'm going to the basement. I need a doctor to check this out." "I'm coming with you!" Aurora says quickly as she helps him up. I turn around and head upstairs to Stefano. He's back at the computer typing away. He's really good at this. As I enter the room I realize he hasn't noticed me because his eyes still focus on the screen. I stand next to him once again and he looks up at me. "I found it." Translation: Fratelli: brothers Sorella: sister Stronzo: asshole Uccisore: killer

Aurora spent the rest of the day at Maria's apartment trying to make sense of everything. Maria had printed out newspaper articles about the Romano family. Headlines about suspected racketeering, money laundering, bodies that turned up in the river. And at the center of it all was Luciano Romano, described as brilliant, ruthless, and completely untouchable.

She moved to his desk, fingers tracing over the still-warm wood, and found something beneath the top drawer: A second letter. Unopened. This one bore the seal of the Italian Ministry of Justice. Amara froze. Her heartbeat quickened. She tore it open carefully — and read. The words blurred for a second before settling: “Re: Classified Inquiry – Matteo Moretti case reopened. Requested presence: Signor Luca Moretti, Palermo, Italy. Investigator assigned: Special Agent Dante Ricci.” Her stomach dropped. Dante Ricci. A name from a past Luca had once sworn was buried.

The heat had been on the Bologna's for so long, that Morello's movements went almost completely unnoticed. I needed to spend some time investigating the Morello's to see what I could come up with. I still wasn't convinced I was wrong about the Bologna's being behind this town turning into a criminal dumpster. But if—and that was a big fucking if—Roman was right, I needed to start paying closer attention to the other Italian family in town. I grabbed my phone, scrolling to Vanessa's I*******m page before I sat on the couch, wondering why I felt the need to disinfect the La-Z-Boy before I made use of it again. Probably because of Roman's dirty ass.

It was a nightmare anyway he thought about it. I didn't even want to imagine if it was me who died. Impossible. If he had come this far, he could continue to survive. Surely G wouldn't even show up, Hunter even less so. Plus it could always alert them in some way. He wasn't going to let anyone get killed. I would have to be more cunning than usual and try to make the lies come out more natural. Now what? I sighed and covered my face with a pillow. These things shouldn't happen to a writer. If he ever left this life once and for all, he would publish a book: How to Survive the Mafia.