Murder In An Irish Village の小説・ストーリー

I began, “but I have come to allay your anxiety. The murderer of Ian Hammond will not be discovered. Have no fear of that. The Suffolk Constabulary will not press charges against an assailant they cannot find.” There was a moment’s pause. Megan Merryweather seemed to be searching me with her eyes. At last she said quietly: “Thank you.” “I’m afraid there are many people who are not as observant as I am.” I tapped the family portrait on the wall with my index finger. “You had another daughter once, is that right Mrs Merryweather? She is now dead.” Again there was a pause, as she searched me with her eyes. Then she answered: “Yes, she is dead.”

Irish said. "Well...i once worked for him, before working for Mr Ethan" Carl said. "Really?! How come you never mentioned it?" Irish was surprised. "There was no need to. Morgan has gotten so many people killed when i worked with him and I'm sure he hasn't stopped,i can't watch him keep killing helpless victims and that was the reason i want to reveal his deeds and make him pay for the lives he has taken, he do not only kill people but swindle them,he's a big time fraud and has caused a lot of people sadness,he doesn't deserve to be happy too" Carl said and Irish sighed.

But the hand that the man was still holding was immediately turned and made she feel groan in pain. "Are you sure?" Asked the man back and replied with a nod from Claire's painful face. "Well, if this really is your choice ..." With a flash, he let go of Claire's hand and disappeared into the blink of an eye. Claire also pulled her red wrist and looked at the front which was locked again. There was not a man in front of her anymore and made she sit for a moment on the cold stone block. There was also the sound of the radio playing on the desk of the front police station, which was not very clear but which was definitely related to serial killings.

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?"

Some elders agreed with her, but Winny didn’t back down. “Why should we trust you? You all pointed your fingers at me without asking me a single question. When did Iris die? Where was I when she died? How did she die? I haven’t even seen her dead body yet, you all claimed I was the murderer.” Winny’s voice broke, every word struggling to come out of her lips. “The murderer is in this room.” In this room? “And after I fish this person out, I am going to kill whoever it is. If you know it’s you, probably say your last prayers now.”

However, by the time she bought all the ingredients and headed home, she realized her home was swarming with police. Later, Amelia found out that the couple’s teenaged daughter was raped and killed by a prominent and influential man in the village. They were furious. They only had one daughter, so they murdered him in revenge. Then, the couple fled from their village and escaped to this little farming village, hiding their identities and planting vegetables for ten years.

Since the ownership of the land has been transferred to the visitor, the village chairman was murdered at the end. How unfortunate… well, he got what he deserved. He didn’t think of the villager’s welfare but the money. I don’t feel sad for him… I don’t know where to go but something is telling me where to go. There is a place far from this village, fishermen from the village talk about the place and nicknamed it the Death Hub. From their description, it is a place where skilled assassins and poison makers stays and do their missions. I want to go there and learn to how to fight.

The memory hit without warning: me, standing in the middle of the dining hall last night, eyes red-rimmed, saying to him, "Domenico, I didn't hurt her. Please, just believe me this once." But he hadn't believed me. He'd chosen to lock me away instead. His breathing came apart. It felt like his chest had been split open with bare hands. And then Domenico Ferrante, the Don of the most powerful family in the city, dropped to his knees. He reached out with trembling fingers, trying to touch the body. Yet the moment his fingertips grazed the blackened skin, he recoiled as though he'd been burned, like he simply could not accept it.

He quickly ran towards the hall and came back with a newspaper. Lenn took the newspaper and read. 'Who will give justice? The man in his early twenties was found hung on a tree at the premises of Helenton village. His one eye socket was empty and the other one popped out. The front side of the body showed all the internal organs as the flesh was removed. It seems that the man was alive when he was being tortured. The identity of the man was revealed after one of the villagers agreed to identify the body. Reev, the magistrate of this village. It is said that he was murdered because he leaked significant information. To whom and what was the information is yet to be revealed.'

“Violet, you were the last person who called my father before he was kidnapped.” The sudden accusation stunned Violet, and she looked at Henry for help. “That’s enough!” With a dark expression, Henry shielded Violet and rebuked me, saying, “Luna, stop kicking up a fuss here. The murderer has been executed, and the judgment bears the court’s official seal. If you really want to blame someone for this, blame your father for being unlucky.” I teared up and stormed forward. “My father spent months in the lab researching the cure to treat your legs. Don’t you have a conscience?!”