Murder Sans Novels & Stories

Susan sat behind the wheel, driving while talking on her cell phone. "Susan: Hello?" She heard the detective's voice on the other end. "Detective: Hello, Susan... Mira wasn't hit by a car without license plates as you thought, and no one killed her by hand. The medical examiner says Mira was killed by a stab wound to the neck, without the use of any weapon, and was thrown from a height." Susan laughed. "Susan: Is it really possible to kill someone without a knife?" The detective answered sharply, as if he felt Susan had outwitted him:

“How did I hide it from you? When I brought her to the hospital, I called you and said our mom was sick. When the surgery failed, I told you that even if she were my mother-in-law and my mom, I had no right to provide an affidavit of non-prosecution. Laura, we’re married. What’s wrong with calling my mother-in-law Mom?” I stared at her in disbelief and continued, “Or did you think the patient was my mother, which was why you… I thought we were husband and wife, one and the same. I never thought that you would actually try to kill my mother… Laura, this isn’t a surgical accident. This is murder.”

Ten months after he carried out his first job, the wall street banker, who was a friend to Edwin Wolfgang, introduced Rodriguez to him, who in turn gave Rodriguez a job to carry out in Marseille, France. Rodriguez had carried out the murder in Marseille himself, he did that because he’d thought about the nature of the assignment, and the fact that Wolfgang wanted a part of the victim’s body mutilated and sent to him, as evidence that the victim had indeed been killed. he’d decided that a kitchen knife would be the best weapon to use in carrying out the assignment, as it doesn’t require a license, and can be gotten in any local grocery store in whichever city they are to carry out the killing

His death is on me. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder. Murder! Murder! Murder! Murder! Murder! Murder! Murder! MURDER!

He watched in dread as the lean dirty man threw a sardonic smirk, amused that his fate wrote the murder of Italian don himself. The finger on his trigger moved swiftly, aiming for the man few feet away, witnessing as the bullet hurtled faster than light, reaching the man's skin, penetrating the side of his stomach, deeply, visibly painfully, letting the redness radially stain his white shirt. The young French man's smile brightened at the sight, slightly disappointed that don asked for no mercy, that even in his last moments he portrayed no fear, no salvage, no hurt. And it inspired the French to go for another one.

I broke his hold, bent his arm into an armlock, and mussed his perfectly coiffed hair. “Mano della Morte ain’t so scary without a gun in his hand, huh?” I taunted. Killian laughed, a rusty sound I rarely heard, and squirmed out of my hold. “The Mano della Morte isn’t usually dealing with opponents who mostly have grudges against his hairstyle.” “Fair enough.” I laughed with him. “But that’s what you get for trying to pull the proud thing. I’m your equal, and I have no issues ruining your hair to prove it.”

I just cannot ignore them. But I cannot even accuse Hades for staring at me like that. I have read that they avoid eye contact but as they like manipulating others, they use their psychotic stare to manipulate the person or to scare them. Once we reach the lobby, I look up at the TV. The news is being shown on the screen. “Wait a moment.” I tell him, without looking at him. I focus on the screen and read the headline. Another murder. I had to focus more. They show that another man of the city was brutally murdered. His body was found in some street. And after investigation, the report came out that the killer had stabbed his chest with a knife about twenty times. The man’s thumb was also cho

"Why? We didn't do anything wrong!" "This is a murder case!"

These actions cannot be explained, Navpreet,’ said the inspector gloomily, casting an eye on the mountains. The sub-inspector gave a stiff nod and carefully studied the inspector who seemed to be lost in contemplation. ‘From what I have seen, murders are of two types,’ said the inspector, the tips of his fingers coming together. ‘First are the unplanned ones, committed by people who were suffocated in some way by the acts of the would-be victims. When they see an opportunity, their fear is eclipsed by the pain they have suffered and they strike.’

"Stop asking stupid questions! what were you thinking you dummy, that I'm doing this without a gain from it? apart from my lust on those women's body, I have investors who are interested on the videos and pictures of all the ladies I abused!" "What!" Alice and Powell exclaims in unison with wide eyes. "It must be him who killed my daughter. Son of a bitch!" Powell gave a manly growl and gritted his teeth with his fist clenched to the floor he grabbed his gun and shot at the door and that triggered Dark Blood anger and he shoots steadily on the door.