fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
That little black book
I walked to the bathroom to clean the blood off my face. The phone lights up. “Deposit complete. Make sure to get what we need.” The phone hangs up. I exhaled as I turn the faucet on to splash some water on my face. I closed my eyes to relive my hit. What can I say I love what I do! I stepped over the dead man’s body to search for this little black book. I still couldn’t believe I took this little hit for this old man. What do they take me for? I’m top 3 of the month for crying out loud. I looked all over this small apartment, but that book was nowhere to be found. I walked over to the man and turned his body over. I stood over his lifeless body. “Where is the damn book damn it!” My eyes finally spotted a loose board in the floor. I smiled. “Sneaky old man.” I moved the rug that was barely covering it and lifted the secret door. The lights of the secret room turned on as I took a step in. The room was filled with money, gold, and all types of artifacts. And all they want is this little black book. He had so much in this small room I couldn’t figure out why only this book. At the end of the room there it was in a glass case with all is passports and important files. I picked up the book and left putting everything back in place. Once I reached the door. I could hear the cleanup crew doing what they do best. They all looked at me as I stepped out the trap room. “Hey guys, don’t mind me.” I walked past them giving them a thumbs up. “Thank you for all you do guys.” Being a wise ass as usual. I walked out the building and jumped in my car tossing that book in a baggy. Making sure it’s secured. In the back of my mind I wanted to know what’s in this damn book! I finally got to my room and ran a nice hot bath. That old man put up a hell of a fight. “I deserve this nice soak.” I said to myself as I slid my ass in that tub. I reached over to that baggy with that little black book in it. Just dangling it. “Should I risk it all and look into you book?” Like it can really talk to me. I sucked my teeth. “Fuck it.” I opened the bag and tossed it to the floor as I crack the book open. My eyes began to scan every line, every name, and couldn’t believe what I was reading. This man had so much power over a lot of people and of course they send someone to take him out, but there have been many that could never touch this man. To myself. Ha, it takes a woman to kill a man huh?” I laughed to myself, but quickly ended. I started to get upset at the fact that they paid me so little to take out a man that had so much power over them. My mind began to race. I wanted them to think twice before taking advantage of my skill, my passion, and my fucking feelings. Pacing the bedroom floor
By Amber Cosby5 years ago in Criminal
Murder on the Mind
She was imagining how she would dig his grave. Perhaps it would be move enjoyable if she made him dig it, that seemed more fitting. Somehow there was a justice in it if he had to dig his own. The slow steady rhythmic thrumming of the shovel, the quiet finality of it. To be resigned to the fate that awaited upon completion. There was a justice there.
By Daryl Benson5 years ago in Criminal
Little Black Book
I was awakened suddenly by the piercing cold in my home. I sat up in bed and looked around, there was total darkness except for the light peering through my window from the neighbor’s back porch. As I let out a sigh, I saw the cold cloud of condensation right in front of my lips. It happened again I thought, they turned off the electricity. I was positive I would make it to the next payday. Yet here I am in this icebox house because I NEEDED to buy that dress, and that purse and those shoes too. Eight more days until I get paid and freezing temperatures on the horizon. I have no idea what I’m going to do. Last time I tried returning the items I bought I was so enamored by the beauty in the windows I walked out with more things! There is just something about those snow globe like windows that makes me want to swipe my credit card! “I’ll take one of those, that one too, and ohhhh that one in pink” I said to the saleswoman. She must have thought I was one of those fancy foreigners that comes to shop without looking at price tags.
By Nina Antonio5 years ago in Criminal
The Famous Black Book
Jennifer Desai was five feet eleven inches tall and a gorgeous girl. Jennifer held the Miss Washington DC title in 2018. A law student in her third year in 2020 at Georgetown University. She was married in 2015 to CEO Jayant Desai of Desai Cleaning Services LLC. Jayant was six feet four inches tall and a very handsome man too. A Punjabi Hindu from New Delhi, India, with humble beginnings. His parents were lower middle class. Bought up in poverty was always making quick schemes to become rich since childhood. He was the only son and had five younger sisters. Jayant's parents wanted him to go abroad and make a life for himself, with a good education. So they send him to Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, USA, to study. His parents mortgaged their ancestral home to get a student loan from the HDFC bank in India for Jayant's studies in the US. Jayant's parents, whatever they had, invested in Jayant's education. So they were in a lot of debt. Jayant got admission to Johns Hopkins University as he was brilliant and had good grades back in India.
By Dr.Afshan Hashmi5 years ago in Criminal
Old Money
Under the steamer the old wallpaper paste loosened and smelled like stale pancake batter. As Tracy worked her putty knife beneath the edge and peeled it back, a soft spot in the wall revealed itself – the plaster and lath beneath had been cut away creating a small void. Inside was stuffed a tight burlap-wrapped bundle. Surprised, she set her tools aside, worked it out, then turned to her makeshift workbench lit by the antique chandelier to inspect its contents. The burlap was brittle. Out tumbled two banded stacks of crisp hundred-dollar bills, some loose bills, and a few newspaper clippings. Adrenaline jolted through her! The money was old, with blue stamps and blue serial numbers. The banding valued each stack at ten thousand dollars. Tracy instinctively looked around as if to protect her find, but she was alone. Her mother had recently passed and the house, essentially unchanged from the time of her grandparents, was in dire need of a refresh before she could put it on the market. She’d been slowly working on it in the evenings and weekends, making small repairs room by room, removing the hideous wallpaper and painting to make it presentable to a buyer.
By Tim Phillips5 years ago in Criminal
Cache Money
Drug dealers. Greg hated them. Well, at this point in his life, anyway. It was a different story twenty years ago. Back then, whom else could supply the weed, coke, uppers and downers that constituted his daily psychotropic diet? The dealers were his buddies, his bulwarks against sobriety.
By Michael Guerin5 years ago in Criminal
Where's my book?
Where’s my black notebook? May 8 1970 Rosa couldn’t believe what just happened, it happened so fast she wasn’t thinking and immediately regretted what she just did. Rosa was standing over her client Karen Broderick with Karen’s lamp. Rosa couldn’t believe what she had done, she slammed the lamp into Karen’s head and knocking the old woman down from her wheelchair, Rosa realized Karen was unresponsive. Rosa didn’t mean to do that; she panicked because Karen starts accusing her of stealing money out of her safe. Rosa was just a broke nursing assistant trying to get by in life, she thought her life would get easier if she went to community college. However, life throws curve balls and after working in the nursing field for nine months she already hates her job. She also can’t stand her client Karen Broderick Rosa was already tired of how ungrateful and disrespectful Karen was to her constantly.
By Natasha Johnson5 years ago in Criminal
Water
It was a rainy, cold night in New York. The cars were trailing lights along the busy streets. Mr. George’s heartbeat was thumping. His busy footsteps were loud, but nobody could notice it amongst the stream of people. His forehead was beading with both raindrops and sweat. He was in agony. He felt his body increasingly become warmer as the rush of the events raised his blood pressure. He was experiencing a shock to his system, but he did not know who to call, who to trust. The noise of the streets, the pulsating lights, and the circulating people all built him a sensation of vertigo. The only soothing element was the water – cool, gentle fall of the rain helping him breathe and place one step in front of the other.
By Léda Daróczi5 years ago in Criminal
