The Comic Book Murder の小説・ストーリー

My eyes glance at my two mates. Dianthus nodded his head. “Yes, missus, the werewolf was the real culprit of the murder and also the real killer of our first blood.”

A bone-deep chill ripped through me as a thought I couldn't control slipped out of my mouth. "You're saying… Mike killed the other four guys in the van to get revenge, and then… he killed himself?" Alex gave a slow nod. "That's one way to read it."

“I didn’t kill your father, I am not the culprit, but also the victim. I am framed by the person that you trusted right now more than anyone else. He---” Words and the movement of his mouth somewhat cover Cath’s ears. Making her deaf from shock and utter protest for the truth that he is claiming to be. With wide eyes and with a shivering lip, she whispers. “Die.” A gunshot echoes, splattering the blood of the henchman to her face and some on her clothes, and even to Cole’s. Blood sicken her to the core and struck her to face another man, a person different than the first one. Someone was mad, but composure, been through death and to survive he needed to kill. With the gun that he uses to sho

Ruby then slowly brought her hands down as she stared at the fiery eyes of the latter. Neither of them died after that day. Of course, Dakota never agreed on dating Ruby. Instead of killing her there right on the spot, she decided to just let her go even though the latter literally just trashed her whole apartment unit. Since Dead Soul was still a new gang back then, no one knew them so it was still safe to make Dakota’s apartment unit as their headquarters. For some reason, Dakota did not feel like killing Ruby that day as she was curious on how the latter would improve next time they would meet.

But the expression on her face quickly change when she remembered something she saw earlier. "Okay, okay, but before I leave, I have a question. Is the author of one of your books with the pseudonym and signature of "Death" happened to be the same mysterious artist who painted the famous tenebrism crime arts?" Sumire asked excitedly and now blushing hardly. She wanted to shriek out earlier when she saw the book. "Yes."

she responded with a smile and then BANG! The baldie shot himself right in the head, his blood splashing right on the white roses, beautifully staining them. And at that moment I realized what Nola meant by art work. “Well Kiara, isn't this just beautiful artwork, huh?” she asked as she laughed with so much joy. I stood there frozen at the site of the dead baldie and the blood stain on the white roses that looked like an art work. I have seen various murders, but this is just utter madness.

Luca stares at me. I grin. “I know. I laughed too. Because what’s a murderer going to do, wave at the camera?” “That won’t stop him.” “No,” I agree quietly. “It won’t.” Another beat. The bookstore hums around us—pages turning, the espresso machine hissing like it’s in on the tension. Luca steps closer, voice low. “Do you want me to pull people together?” I tilt my head. “You asking as my boss, or as the guy who once buried a body before breakfast?”

Stephen leaped on him, taking him down with him. "Steph". Ace called him but it was late. Callum saw his eyes flashing yellow. A bright yellow. Pupils dilated. Stephen had Adam's neck exposed as his fangs elongated and the last thing Callum saw was those fangs sinking in the crook of Adam's neck and then he lost his consciousness. It was too much for him. "Tsk tsk tsk. You let your wolf overpower you". Zol said unamused. Though they didn’t put any charge on Stephen for killing Adam, because they knew Adam had few things on his hands to be taken care of. But they were kind of disappointed.

“When we found him, he was dead.” Daniel cut me off. “In his own home. Murdered. “Time of death was around four yesterday afternoon. Before your company even left for the escape room. “The weapon was an axe. “And on the doorknob of his apartment, we recovered a fingerprint.” Daniel lifted a fingerprint comparison report. The red markings made my eyes ache. “After analysis, that fingerprint… belongs to you.”

Enraged, they hurled stones and dirty water at me. "Officer, execute him as soon as possible! We won't feel safe otherwise!" "Damn it–this kind of monster kills, dumps the body, cheats on his wife, and still tries to frame her? He deserves to die!" "He must be a psychopath–who else would murder someone and dump the body in broad daylight?" Suddenly, a thought struck me. I struggled again and shouted, "Officer–after all this, who exactly are you saying I killed?"