Murdoch Mysteries Characters Novels & Stories

Knowing before it would ever be confirmed that the stone Morgan saw in her vision was indeed the exact same one I was describing. “Maybe our suspect has a few answers. After all, it was her scent you discovered in the inner vault.” Rhett supplies and suggests. “Then let’s go ask my murdering bitch of a mate some questions.” I cracked my knuckles, ready to interrogate her. Focused on answers, I didn’t notice the room had stilled and Hunji and Morgan’s eyes were on me. “What?” I ask wondering what the fuck else they could hit me with. “The suspect is your mate?” Morgan gasps. Shit, I had forgotten Rhett was the only one that knew.

Shaw furrowed his brow slightly upon hearing my question. "No, I'm just visiting a friend. Miss Heather, I haven't thanked you for what you did. We caught the embezzler." Oh, really? And you're thanking me a week later? Too late, Shaw. I forced a smile, "It was my job, Mr. Shaw. No need to thank me. Ah, Mr. Shaw, this is Alayna Morrel. Lana, this is Mr. Nicholas Shaw." I introduced them both. "Morrel..." he murmured quietly. "Are you related to Christopher Morrel?"

A sharp light spilled out into the corridor. A low murmur of voices drifted into the quiet hallway. Evelyn paused, her instincts immediately telling her to listen. In her past life, she had ignored hushed conversations, closed doors, secret meetings, believing her love would protect her. That naivety had cost her her life. She stepped silently into the shadow of a large falcon statue, her back pressed flat against the wall as she focused on the study's interior. “...every transaction matches, Mr. Vance,” a voice said. It was a cold, detached, almost mechanical tone—the voice of Murdock, Arthur’s legendary chief of global intelligence and forensic investigation. This man operates entirely in

POV: Lord Silvain Mordaunt Location: Kensington Mansion Time: Same Week I'm receiving visitors today. Three appointments. Each represents different scheme in progress. First appointment: Sir Rupert Harborough. Corrupt judge who convicted Callum Brennan. He arrives precisely on time, carrying documents. "Lord Mordaunt. Thank you for seeing me." "Rupert. What brings you here?" "Another opportunity. Similar to the Brennan situation." Harborough spreads documents across my desk. "Alpha Magnus has rival. Young wolf named Connor. Strong, popular, threatening Magnus's position."

A white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, revealed the sharp clavicle of his neck, sleeves rolled to expose pale, snow-like skin. From afar, he exuded an air of noble aloofness, the lit cigarette adding a touch of earthly life to his otherwise painting-like appearance. Cline, with fingers with distinct knuckles, idly flicked the cigarette's ember. The flickering fire burned his skin, yet he seemed oblivious to the pain. Russell's cold voice echoed in his ears. "Mr. Moriarty, records show Dorothy isn't Miss Hammond. She's been in the UK all along." "The UK reports suggest Miss Hammond might be her lost sister."

He was feeling more puzzled by the moment. “Murphy was hired by the mayor of Fallout city to investigate Loretta’s kidnap, while Leonard only started working on the case right after the girl’s dad reported her kidnapping to the local police. The two detectives came to meet each other when they got the same lead on the warehouse where Loretta was held. But when they had gotten there, they were too late. Loretta had already been tortured to death, and her corpse was already decaying.”

“She’s had years of service to shoot him if she had wanted to. I wonder who Craig Osborne and Karen Bellagamba are. They’re a strange couple.” Celine Motté appeared ahead of DI Silver, obviously upset about the death of her employer but still managing to maintain an air of efficiency about her which commanded respect. After I was formally introduced to her as a consulting private detective for the Suffolk Constabulary, I started to question her. “How long have you worked for Mr Gannaway?” I asked. “About seven year’s sir,” Miss Motté replied. “He was a kind and considerate man.” “What about Mr Osborne and Miss Bellagamba?” I pressed.

We left without my chauffeur, taking my car to the station. At the station, the air was heavy with the smell of stale coffee and paper. A lone detective sat behind a cluttered desk, sipping from a chipped mug. He looked up as we approached. “Ms. Harrington,” he said with a smirk. “Didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.” I ignored his tone, placing the tablet and flash drive on the desk in front of him. “I have evidence,” I said firmly. “Gabriel Moretti is behind the murders of Roy, Cassandra, Diana, and now his own wife, Emmanuella. Watch this.”

It can be Reese, the members of the Fabroa family, or the other acquaintances near the chairman. “There’s a person I need to meet,” Harriet said as she rummaged on her pocket. She picked up her phone and browsed on her gallery. “I can say that this person might be one of the suspect. But if she isn’t, I think she can help us determine the killer.” Harriet, then, showed the picture of the woman to Cassius. It is Elona Mcgriffin. The owner of the Elona boutique, and the woman whom Sherly and Madell had a fight against with.

"Hello, are you the new assistant of Margo and her sister Denniel?" Doctor Greg asked, is also a Pathologist who will accompany Denniel to the Morgue. He is tall and handsome even at this age. But it looks good and they get along. "Yeah.. you're Doc Greg too aren't you?" This polite question.