Who Killed Ratchett In Murder On The Orient Express Book?

Elliot O’More is Killian’s (Betrayed the Mafia) left hand in the New York Irish Mob. He is known for his ruthless killings and way around the dark web. Elliot might look like the guy next door, but he is not as lovely as it seems. He is a player that has given up on love. And we all know how dangerous that can be. Hazel walks into Elliot’s life, turning his head upside down, and the only way he can get her out of his system is by forging a contract marriage. He will protect her, and she will be his. His obsession with her soon becomes love, and Elliot struggles to stay sane and protect her when everyone around them wants them apart. Hazel is a pawn in the hands of the Russian Mafia. They use her to their benefit, and what happens when they decide to use her against the Irish, to use her against her husband?

Detective Catharine Maximo whose sister also disappeared, came looking for the mastermind behind this mystery. Every year a girl would be found missing. She's been wanting to solve this and find out the culprit for months. Recently, a corpse was found. It was evident that the victim was brutally murdered. She digs information. But could she ever find her sister alive by then? What is the cost of solving the mystery of-- Eency Weency?

With her enemies in pre-civil war Virginia still seeking her death, Esmerelda is forced to return to the future only days after wedding Lance. Because it was necessary to fake her death in order to stop her enemies from following her to the future, her new husband, Lance, was forced to stay behind. He’d placed a magic box for them to communicate until he found a way to safely be with her beneath the floorboards of the house. Now, she must find it. A task that is easier said than done! “The Magic Box” is book two of the exciting paranormal-romance-mystery-thriller Esmerelda Sleuth Series

I took leave to be the maid of honor at my best friend's wedding. The moment I landed, Rachel Wendt showered me with lavish gifts: the newest flagship model smartphone, designer perfume, and other branded gifts. "A little gift for you," Rachel said. "Even though I'm getting married, you're still the most important person in my life!" I was deeply moved. Early the next morning, I got up at dawn, changed into my maid of honor gown, and went to find her. Rachel was having her makeup done. When she saw me, she excitedly waved at me. But the moment I went in closer, her face instantly turned icy. "You tramp! Get the hell out of my wedding!" I froze on the spot.

"Manager, it's her! I saw it with my own eyes! She stuffed that limited-edition necklace from the display case right into her clothes!” The weekend mall was packed. Out of nowhere, a woman with that perfectly curated influencer look blocked my path and started yelling at the top of her lungs. The crowd waiting in line for coffee instantly froze and turned to stare. I blinked, caught off guard, and was just about to say something. But she didn't give me a chance. She lunged forward and yanked hard at my work jacket. A few brand-new gold necklaces, still with their tags on, hit the marble floor. "Oh my God, you guys! The evidence is right there! Someone call the cops and get this woman arrested—ruin her life, send her straight to prison!” People whipped out their phones to record. A couple of young guys even rolled up their sleeves, ready to play hero. I looked down at the gold chains on the floor, then patted my pocket—where my plainclothes loss-prevention officer badge was sitting—and let out a dry, incredulous laugh. This was the exact stash of stolen goods I'd confiscated just five minutes ago from a trash can in the women's restroom during an ongoing theft bust. So how did she—a random shopper—know exactly where the evidence was on me? And more than that, how did she manage to track me down and block my route to the security office with mall management in tow, all within a single minute?

Three years after my death, my wife’s first love was hanging onto life by a thread, and only my system could save him. To force me to show up, she cut off my father’s medical payments. My sick mother was forced to beg her out in the summer heat until she collapsed. She even threw my beloved little sister into a bonfire to be eaten up by the flames. As she waited for me to show up, apologize to her, and use the system to save her first love, my sister finally stopped hiding the truth. “He died three years ago! Three years ago, he traded his life so you would survive that car crash!”