Short Story On Anna Greenfield

By this time, they lived together, still in Massachusetts, but John’s job as a politician kept him away from home quite often. They wrote letters back and forth constantly, reporting to each other about current situations happening

He explains that he is not there on court business; he is looking to get a clearer picture of

There was a raw passion that lit up Dennis’ eyes when he spoke about his partner, and that was something she rarely saw between two men unless their relationship was more than just platonic. Not that it was any of her business, but it helped to know the fundamentals, after all, it could well be a domestic violence situation. But her sixth sense told her this was not the case with Dennis and Tom. Whatever their relationship, it was clear Dennis had deep feelings for his fellow officer, and she doubted he would do anything to hurt him

“You are out of your mind Juice. I can’t believe you’re standing there doubting our relationship, accusing me of shit I did not do. Because I didn’t cut you in immediately and you saw me making love to a man I don’t give a shit about, does not mean I was not going to break you off,” Racine lied. He was quiet as he placed some things back into the closet.

Investigation: The detective upon receiving information on the events, beings his initial investigation of the crime. The detective, along with his team, collects evidence such as: video surveillance, finger prints, bullet analysis, blood pattern analysis, DNA, and interviews the witnesses. At some point in the investigation, an interview was conducted on a customer that got a full description of the suspect. The detective, upon hearing his statement, requests for a sketch artist. The sketch artist pencils up a picture of the suspect and copies are made and handed out to all patrols. The individual describes the suspect as a tall white male, with short brown hair, about 6’4, wearing glasses with a five o’ clock shadow, and about 210lbs. The suspect was described as wearing a white hoodie and blue

Standing at his desk once again, and out of breath, the detective cursed himself for the few extra pounds he gained over the past couple of years. Slowly, and hesitantly placing the tiny box on his desk, he recalls its contents. Feeling the pressure of the task before him, he sits down, leans his head back, and closes his eyes. After several moments, without opening his eyes, he retrieves the small knife his father had given him

“Who’s they?” he wanted to know. “Who, specifically, do you think is trying to murder you?”

Stanley crawled towards the filing cabinet in anticipation of the myriad of files above him. Knowing only that the court files were truly confidential. Why else would there be lasers, retna analysis, and tongue scanners? Stanley hid his brown locks from existence under his black sherlock trench coat. In his mind a chiseled face ,deep eyes and luscious hair was truly egregious. Footsteps scurried around the hardwood floor, in the dark

During the week, John is with his mom which basically means she asks him the same old questions of "How was your day?" or "Do you want take out?" then ending with what his mom refers to "resting" which is sitting in the dark in the living room. Every weekend, John goes to Boston and has the same routine of getting ignored by his Dad. Yet, while John is in Boston, turning in his first zine going by the name "Gio", he reads one that he is fairly interested in and waits for the writer to come in the next day and talk about her zine and the writer would be no other than Marisol Guzman

“Now you wait a minute. I’m not done. He had a ski cap and I couldn’t see the color of his hair. He was a big guy and ran that way,” She said, pointing towards the street leading to the river.

The street was flooded with cop cars and sirens by the time Detective Toussaint arrived on the scene. He briefly greeted his colleagues consisting of nearly the entire Erie Police Department, Forensics, and numerous other variations of uniform, all embellished with the familiar detailed charcoal and crimson emblem. As Detective Toussaint ducked and weaved his way skillfully through the barriers of striped plastic tape, Edward Linder, the Erie PD coroner and an unusually odd man both in looks and manner, had skulked over to join the Detective. Linder exclaimed abruptly, “Three murders!” with an enthusiastic grin, “Discovered by a neighbour when she heard a scream. Knocked on the door but no one answered, so she looks through the window and sees

The investigator dressed up and made herself look appealing and acted very friendly. She smiled at the subjects as they approached her, she purposely dropped some items to see who would help her. An assistant was trained to stand at corner to observe from a different point of view.

“She’d pretend to swim out after him. But she’d arrive too late… Nobody would ever suspect… Had Hugo suspected? Was that why he had looked at her in that queer far-off way?... Had Hugo known?”

“Hello!” Wilt shouted into the back door of Alex’s house. No response. Wilt let himself assuming that Alex and Mother Lincoln were in another room. “Hello!” Still no response. He walked to the front of the house. There was were Alex was! Just standing on the sidewalk talking to… the police. Wilt stood in awe staring at the window, but a little too long. One of the officers spotted Wilt out of the corner of his eye. He grabbed his partner, and they both reached down to their holsters a pulled their guns out.

Now, you may wonder, how is a man lead to think that his wife and her old friend are conspiring to murder him? The answer is suspicion, the pure essence of