#crime

Here, in Lorrain's poisoned little jewel of a tale (“The Man Who Made Wax Heads”) the consummate achievement of decadent art is caught in miniature. The genius of the artist entangles perpetrators and victims in a sticky web of perverse delights, in which exploitation becomes collusion, the ripples of guilt spread outward, and the real criminal slips away. In the end, responsibility is lodged firmly with the consumer, forced – he must confess – by his own perverse desires, to buy into the values of this particularly black market. ↗

— Jennifer Birkett

#consumer #crime #criminal #decadence #guilt

I quickly dropped my hands and changed the subject. "So those two who visited me the other night. Who were they?" I asked. He smiled, knowingly. "Ares and Aphrodite." Of course, I thought. In fact, I think I had already sort of figured that out. Although in my mind they were still Mr. Scowly Face and Miss Perfect Bitch. I found those the names I had given them much more appropriate ↗

— Robin Burks

#fantasy #mythology #change

What I did in my youth is hundreds of times easier today. Technology breeds crime. ↗

— Frank Abagnale

#crime #did #easier #hundreds #i

Eve: "Where's Mister Scary?" Roarke: "Summerset has the night off." Eve: "You mean the house is Summerset-free? Damn shame we have to waste it with work. ↗

— J.D. Robb

#suspense #death

We cut down trees that do not bear fruit! We have to bring back the death penalty! It’s the only way to deal with evil.” “Would you execute anyone else, now that you’re in a groove?” Conversation on Radio Fake 112.8 MHz In The Shadow of Sadd ↗

— Steen Langstrup

#scandinavian-mysteries #death

Perhaps this is the purpose of detective investigations, real and fictional -- to transform sensation, horror and grief into a puzzle, and then to solve the puzzle, to make it go away. 'The detective story,' observed Raymond Chandler in 1949, 'is a tragedy with a happy ending.' A storybook detective starts by confronting us with a murder and ends by absolving us of it. He clears us of guilt. He relieves us of uncertainty. He removes us from the presence of death. ↗

— Kate Summerscale

#crime #detective-stories #detectives #investigations #mysteries

There were three of them in the room now, where only two had first come in. Death was in the room with the two of them. ↗

— Cornell Woolrich

#crime-thriller #death #noir #noir-fiction #death

Then without any warning the car stopped. They were there. "The ride's over," someone said. "End of the ride." For a moment nobody got out. They just sat there. The driver cut the ignition, and after that there was silence. Complete, uncanny silence, more frightening than the most threatening noise or violence could have been. Night silence. A silence that had death in it. ("The Number's Up") ↗

— Cornell Woolrich

#death #murder #night #silence #death

Her eyes narrowing, she turned her attention back to where Stephanie stood with Ben, feeling her own pain turn to intense fury. “Dominic knew her so damn well because he was usually thinking the same thing. She was his female version – two halves fitting perfectly together,” Gena spat out, anger inflected in her voice. “Like him, she’s reckless and like him, once she gets something into her head nothing or no one will change her mind.” Her fury revealed itself in her eyes, as she spat out, “And, like him, she’s going to get herself killed.” - Gena Evans, Nowhere to Run ↗

— Nina D'Angelo

#crime #death #love #mayhem #murder-mystery

Two times two is four is no longer life, gentlemen, but the beginning of death. ↗

— Dostoevsky

#death