Murder On The Orient Express Audiobook Novels & Stories

He sauntered towards it, now gripping his gun even more tightly. His eyebrows furrowed when he heard faint voice, continuously talking in an unfathomable and barely audible language. He slowly pushed the door open and peered through the gap. His eyes widened when he saw a nun standing beside a body that seemed unconscious, it’s clothes soaked in blood. The detective was stunned on his feet, carefully not creating a sound that will make his presence known, he slid through the door. The nun’s eyes were closed while her both hands lifted in the air, a brown rosary tied in her hand.

All I could think of was the memory of the white cloth being pulled over Marie's lifeless body. I never thought Gigi would be the culprit who killed Marie. I couldn't stop myself from lunging at Gigi and choking her. "Annette! Have you lost your mind?" Zachary roared. He grabbed my arm and threw me aside, making me fall onto the ground.

{DETECTIVE GRANT’S POV} “Detective Grant! There are reports that Sergei was killed by a wild animal. Is that true?” New York Homicide detective Grace O’Reilly opened the doors to Carnegie Hall and knew right away that it was going to be bad. Reporters were 10 deep, and unusually aggressive. “Detective!” They screamed for her repeatedly as she entered, the room filling with flashes. At 40, muscular and hardened, with short black hair and matching eyes, Grace was tough, and used to pushing her way through.

I dropped to my knees beside the bed, grabbed the edge of the bare mattress, and inhaled deeply. The scent was thick on the fabric, crisp and bright. "Theodore," I rasped, my fingers digging into the worn fabric of the mattress until my knuckles turned white. I stood up and scanned the floor around the bed. Near the splintered doorframe, my boot kicked a small piece of plastic. I bent down and picked up the peel-off backing of a medical scent patch. Next to it, dried into the wood, was a thin smear of fresh blood. His patch had been ripped off. His scent was floating out into the open air of a district crawling with people who didn't care about the laws. I jammed the plastic into my pocket,

Her blonde hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, her blue eyes flicking toward the chattering customers before she turned back to Ashwin. “You heard, right?” she asked, keeping her voice low. He nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah.” Sarah exhaled. “Eleven murders now. The whole town’s on edge.” The more Ashwin listened, the more details emerged, each one more unsettling than the last. “They found them this morning,” someone whispered from a nearby table. “All with their throats cut—wide open, like they never even saw it coming.” “Their eyes were still open,” another voice added, sending a chill down Ashwin’s spine. “Like they died looking at something that terrified them.”

She responded as she slowly slumped on the chair. "Yeah! The Omega killer sure does know how to murder, gruesome but neat. Perhaps too neat. It looks as if our killer took his time to display his victim's body, but what does it all mean?" He states as he heaves deeply, conveying his distress about the situation. "There's no such thing as being too neat. We still have the silk, the book, and the relic." She responded with a hint of hope in her voice. "What if the killer left them deliberately behind to derail us?" He asks while glancing at her.

he said after a while, a mischievous glint returning to his eye for the first time in days, “this whole mess has given me a fantastic idea for my book.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Oh? Let me guess. The grumpy retired surgeon is framed for a murder he didn’t commit?” “Better,” he said, warming to his subject. “He’s accused of a mercy killing from forty years ago. A deathbed testimony surfaces. But!” He held up a finger dramatically. “The witness is the town drunk who once tried to sell him a bridge.” I burst out laughing, the sound strange and wonderful to my own ears. “And the postmistress-turned-MI6-agent helps him crack the case?”

“There was the sound of a gunshot, ma’am. Someone is clearly dead in there, and another person walks out, apparently fine, with another unconscious person in his arms. That can only mean one thing: he shot and killed the other person. The police are on their way….we will have to start an investigation so the murderer gets his punishment.” The second thing that happened was Everleigh screeched, her eyes wide with fear and panic. “Kai! Look at her arm.” I looked down immediately, my heart stopping at the sight. Black vine-looking things travelled up both Aurora’s arms, snaking their way up till they stopped at her shoulders. “Marloise poisoned her blood! Shit!” !” I didn’t think anymore. I rus

My jaw hung open, my chest tightening as panic crept its way up my spine. He circled me slowly, one hand tilting my chin up so my eyes met his. “Tell me,” he murmured. “What were his last words before he died?” I shook my head slightly. My lips quivered. My body betrayed me, trembling. I had buried all the tracks, I thought, the gang covered everything. How does he know? “Christine Summers,” he said, voice sharp now, almost delighted. “Congratulations. You’re a murderer — a bloody one at that. And once Damien finds out… I wonder what he’d say.”

Her hands tightened around the case files, the paper crumpling beneath her grip. Was Damian Voss a suspect? Or was he something worse? Evelyn leaned back in her chair, rubbing her head, the weight of the evidence pressing down on her. It wasn’t enough to make an arrest, but it all pointed in one direction—Damian Voss. Billionaire. Businessman. Untouchable. And somehow, connected to these murders. Her thoughts were interrupted by a noise—something shifting outside her window. Evelyn tensed, reaching for her gun. She lived on the fourth floor. No one should be out there.