Perfect Crime Novels & Stories

That was her… really her in the kitchen, looking shady. How? She hadn’t done that… she couldn’t have done it. The doctor had told her symptoms would include amnesia, but she couldn’t have actually gone ahead to poison Selena. Her slight hesitation gave her attackers all the evidence they needed, and they pounced on her with so much vigor. “If you let my baby die, I will make sure you live to regret the rest of your miserable life,” Alfred said to her. She looked into his face, barely recognizing the man she had known for almost five years.

Glancing at the neat envelope on her desk, Ava Sinclair sees her name crisply and coldly etched in silver on the front. Roman Devereux, the client she was supposed to meet, was profiled inside. A ricocheted bullet has been sending the name whizzing through Manhattan's elite circles. Some saw him as a scapegoat, while others saw him as a criminal genius accused of stealing secrets from companies. Both of those things were out of Ava's time.

“A- after a thorough investigation we found out that Damon was not really involved in this case,’’ one of them said in a fearful tone, firmly holding his hand just to pull his words together, but that fear only increased when silence followed, not until the sound of the man's shoe against the marbled floor broke it. The man walked towards a drawer, his eyes moving from one gun to the other, but he picked none, not until his eyes fell on the desert eagle AE that was staring at him right in the eye. “Perfecto,” with a sigh of satisfaction he pulled it out as he made his way towards the man, but before he pulled the trigger he took off his glasses, showing him every reason to be afraid of him.

They had been called incompetent for even capturing a culprit, a single or a pair who had been causing the turmoil In Mexico. It was as if their fault that they are failing, when the criminal is working adherently clean. A perfect crime, which is seemingly plotted for years. They had not seen, nor handle cases such as this one, their senior may have, but there is always that tiny bit of mistake, whereas they could trace. But non so far faltered. The killer is careful, if Gerry’s hunch is correct.

Grandpa and I just let out a deep sigh for the nth time as hearing them, that actually happened every time we went there, but I guess, Astrid used to her attitude as she even bought and brought her own apron whenever we visited them. I took a bath early this since our couch strictly told that we should have been there as early as seven o'clock in the morning to prepare for the championship game of us against the IT department. He even sent to our group chat the video of their game against the Engineering department. They finished the game with a score of 117-98. Martin, the brother of Samuel, really did well. I also saw potential in him. I heard from one of my friends in the Criminology depa

“The defense wants you to believe this was random vandalism. But random vandals don’t disable security systems with surgical precision. They don’t target specific storage areas while leaving everything else untouched. And they certainly don’t leave behind evidence that points to careful planning and coordination.” She paused, meeting each juror’s eyes. “This wasn’t vandalism. This was sabotage. And the defendants bet they could hide behind technical difficulties and convenient malfunctions. They bet wrong.” The jury deliberated for forty-seven minutes. When they returned with a guilty verdict on all counts, Camilia felt her knees go weak with relief and triumph. She had done it. She had beat

“Hello, wife.” “I’m not your wife anymore. Let’s get that straight,” I seethed into the device, but my hands were trembling with trepidation. “You killed Camille.” He chuckled darkly. “How can you be so sure I did?” he mocked. “Because they found the murder weapon and it had your prints on it. You were never able to do anything right, so I wonder what possessed you to think you could execute the perfect crime. Why did you do it?” I replied condescendingly and gulped the lump of bile that had formed in my throat.

I thought, I never saw a killer like him not until he came. "Thank you, Mr. Aris, for the information," I said and went away. I took the letters and submit them to the expert, they might find some fingerprint that couldn't be seen by naked eyes. This case was too difficult than I ever imagined... no CCTV footage, no witness, and no hint, it was a perfect crime. But I won't let him win, I won't let him coated his hands with more blood. He has no right to put someone's life in his hands.

So many questions swirled in my mind all at once. I watched as the police officers moved with swift precision, their eyes focused and determined. They surrounded Justin, their gazes filled with suspicion and accusation. My eyes locked with Justin's, searching for any sign of innocence or guilt. But his expression remained blank, his eyes unreadable. Then, Justin's dad, Frederick, stepped forward, shielding him. "Hold on," his voice was firm and commanding. "You've got it all wrong. He's innocent." The lead officer turned to Frederick, his expression hardening. "Sir, we have evidence linking him to the crime," he replied, his voice clipped and professional.