Murder Sans Novels & Stories

Fanny grinned and queried, “How do you mean? I thought you said you were going to get his cell phone to check the people he spoke with, especially his frequent callers.” “The murderer made away with his phones, destroyed the camera and didn’t leave a trail of finger print. The murder knew what he was about committing so he blanked all forms of trapping him. This is maddening and perfection so annoying.” Fanny Luis dimmed his eyes in space and intoned, “it is more maddening that doctor Bernard never had family, no wife no children. I am clueless right now.” “Obviously, he was frolicking with one of the women of easy virtue in the hotel room when the murder took place. He wasn’t strangled or p

At that moment, it seemed like something was about to well up in my eyes and was ready to spill over. Meanwhile, Brutus lay stiff on the floor with its eyes wide open. Dominic had shot the dog. A bullet pierced its skull so fast that it did not even have time to howl before falling dead to the floor. I dragged my bloody leg over to Brutus and gently closed his eyes with my fingers. Dominic called for a doctor and a nurse. He told them to make sure my leg was fully healed and as fine as before. He warned them that if they made even the slightest mistake, they would end up like Brutus.

"The document is for you. Sign it, and I'll spare your life. If you refuse, you'll both go over the edge." Conner remained on his knees, water still dripping all over his body. Floyd continued, "The rules are simple. Both of you will cross at the same time. The walkway is only about a foot wide, and it can't fit two people side by side. Whoever reaches the end first gets what they need. As for the other one…" He didn't finish his sentence, but his chilling murderous intent said it all. The moment Anisa heard "hemostatic medicine", a frantic will to survive flared in her gaze. She actually managed to pull herself up and drag her bleeding body toward the glass walkway step by step.

Dacian chuckled dryly. I sighed, looking up at him. “What happened this time?” “The third series of five murders have happened.” He said. “It happened yesterday evening, and this one happened around people.” “You mean people were around when they dropped dead?” I reiterated, and he nodded in confirmation. “According to reports, they were walking in the market, and they just dropped dead without their hearts. No one saw anyone attack them, nothing suspicious, they just dropped dead.” “And several people gave the same account?” I asked.

Shrewsbury The Third Twin: A Dark Psychological Thriller by Darren Speegle Aletheia: A Supernatural Thriller by J.S. Breukelaar Where the Dead Go to Die by Mark Allan Gunnells and Aaron Dries Sarah Killian: Serial Killer (For Hire!) by Mark Sheldon The Final Cut by Jasper Bark Blackwater Val by William Gorman Pretty Little Dead Girls: A Novel of Murder and Whimsy by Mercedes M. Yardley Nameless: The Darkness Comes by Mercedes M. Yardley

you were planning to kill me. Kimora: Self defense is not murder! (She says never once taking her eyes off of him) Xanne: Pause! No you actually wholesale intended to try to kill me just now what the fuck! (He says clearly annoyed and rubbing his head) Kimora: It's not murder if you don't resist! (She says slowly walking forward with her gun still trained true) Xanne: I was coming to tell you that we were going to land somewhere soon so you could walk around for a couple of days but I see that's not necessary! (He scoffed and turns around on his heel to begin walking away)

He props it up on his own leg, careful not to burn himself, when he stutters: "What? How can it be?" "It was a cold-blooded murder. It was quite a talked-about affair, sir, you really didn't hear anything?" Embarrassed and still very astonished by that revelation, Morgan looks down, almost as if he is confessing. "I don't watch television or talk to my neighbors. I rarely leave the house. I chose to isolate myself from the world...a long time ago." His expression is one of deep regret as he looks back at Emanuele. "A murder, you say? But how? Why? What did this Sarah person have against her?"

Let’s just say that it’s no coincidence the word starts with two asses, because one ass is not enough for those douche bags. So no, I’m not an assassin. I’m a professional serial killer, also known as a PSK. Assassins are lazy. Kill one terrorist with a sniper rifle from a hundred yards away and then disappear into the night without a trace. Boring. PSK’s make Murder for Hire an art form. Any Catholic schoolgirl can shoot a man or put poison in his scotch, but it takes real finesse to make Murder for Hire look like the workings of a deranged sociopath. Granted, it does help that most PSK’s are deranged sociopaths, but that is completely beside the point.

Marco turned to me, his gaze pinning me down like he was trying to find something more than what he could see. "_Tutti dobbiamo imparare a modo duro_.."He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper and the gun went off. "(We all have to learn the hard way.) Blood splattered everywhere on the wall behind him. Silence reigned, the cool breeze swept through the club's backyard and I just stood there. A witness to a murder. Marco DeSantos had just shot someone dead! TBC.

His fingers shook as he swept a cold smile across the crowd. “The memory decoder is a new product. Data misalignment is normal. Maybe Finn altered the memories before he died to drag his wife down with him. After all, he’s a murderer who even dared to kill his wife's parents!” A team member burst in, face ashen, shouting, “Chief! Another murder just happened in the south district! The victim was carved up and had bones severed—the method is exactly the same!” Linda struggled to her feet. She looked at me slumped in the chair, long devoid of life, her whole body shaking.