The Thursday Murders Club Novels & Stories

My secretary inserted the USB drive into the computer, and the video played on the big screen. In it, Queenie's cries filled the room as Sandra frowned, looking annoyed. She didn't even want to carry Queenie. "We're going to be late for our dinner, and we've got a movie to catch afterward," she grumbled. Shawn frowned as well. "Babe, we can't drag this baggage along, right? You promised tonight would be just for me."

She greeted the sub-inspector and walked towards the garden. The inspector looked skeptical. ‘There was a board meeting in the afternoon, right? What if someone hid himself in the complex and later grabbed the opportunity? ‘No sir, I talked to the security guard. Five people had turned up for the meeting. Three gentlemen and two ladies. All left. I had it confirmed.’ ‘What about the time of the murder?’

"Ok, we've got an opening at two o'clock on Thursday." "The day after tomorrow?" "Oh no, the Thursday after next. What's your name again, Chloe something?" "Chloe Harris. Is that the only time-" "Harris?" She interrupted, obviously excited about something. "Yes." "As in The Mrs. Jonathon Harris?" "Er, yes. Did Mr. McCorkle call ahead or something?" Chloe thought that was nice of him. "Huh? Oh no, why would he do that?" Kelly asked as if he would have rather moved to Chicago and joined the Polar Bear Club. "Can you come down now?"

“Who is the murderer now?” “Who is the murderer now?” I heard the voice again that irritated my head for a moment and I suddenly remembered what happened last night. The murder that I witnessed. The killer is exactly the same as me. The scene played in my head like a movie. How the other “me” killed a man inside his own house under the full moon on a silent and cold night. I shook my head because I knew it wasn’t real but my heart beat fast and I got nervous when I saw mud on the floor; The mud or should I say footsteps only going to my bed. I immediately check the footsteps because it is weird that it has footsteps going in but not going out.

A month later, the police informed me that the case was fully resolved. Adam–driven to despair after being rejected by the woman he idolized– confessed to everything. As it turned out, the moment he learned about our booking at the countryside guesthouse, he began planning the entire crime. He murdered the village doctor in cold blood, dismembered the body, packed it into a suitcase, and placed it in my car. He even hired a salon girl to pose as his lover, feeding her a script to follow. Afterward, he paid her a large sum and sent her out of the province.

Summers said. “”I’m good too, how’s the weather in London?” Whitefield asked. “Cold, but not as cold as New York, where are you at the moment?” Summers asked. “I’m on my way to dinner, with my wife and daughter, is anything the matter?” Whitefield asked. “Well yeah, Mclean was murdered yesterday, his wife told me today when I went to inspect the paintings, and the sick thing is that he was murdered in the same fashion as the other victims, Carl I’m becoming more scared and worried”.

Or is that his plan? With a sharp economy of movement, he locks up the cabinet, then follows me, locking the dungeon door behind him. In silence, we head to the club’s common areas, and I can’t stop myself from looking around, wondering if the scum who’d murdered Ryder’s mother – and wants to kill me – is watching me even now. Around me, the music thumps and bodies gyrate on the floor in the distance as others play out scenes full of their favorite kink. Ryder himself continually scans the crowds, looking for trouble. Thorne and Ruiz, along with Axel and Jason, have all fanned around the room and are scanning the guests.

"Anything extra, I'll consider it the cost for offending Nick today." … My assistant was efficient, as always. In less than twenty minutes, two men in black suits arrived at the club entrance, each carrying a cash box. Every eye in the lobby turned toward them. The boxes were opened, revealing stacks of crisp bills, neatly arranged, gleaming under the chandelier. The crowd that had been pointing and whispering moments ago went silent. Tina's breathing grew heavier. Her eyes were fixed on the money. Even Nick was stunned, mouth open in disbelief.

“Why can't we go now? This would be the best time to burst in.” “If we burst in now? We will only make matters worse because we won't get all of them, their leader will not be around, and we need to catch all of them. but we will go in to night; tonight is their initiation night; they will all be present; they will be welcoming new members to the club tonight; it involves insertions on their backs and making them sniff cocaine.” “That is really terrible, officer. How come you know so much about them when you have never caught any of them?” Andy asked.

I’ll get to her in a bit. In a tortoise shell, I work for a secret organization known as T.H.E.M.—the Trusted Hierarchy of Everyday Murderers. T.H.E.M. is clandestinely contracted by private individuals, corporations, or sometimes even the government to complete the dirty work of furtively killing off individuals or groups of people.